I never meant to fall that hard.
At first, Ruby was just another beautiful face in the crowd — long curly hair, smooth caramel skin, the kind of presence that made rooms slow down when she walked in. But there was something deeper, something beyond the way her laughter danced in the air. It was the way she looked at me, like she saw through the tattoos, the rough speech, the secrets. And it scared me. We met during one of our shows at the University of Ghana. She wasn’t like the girls who came backstage screaming our names. Nah. She just stood in the corner, arms folded, sipping malt, watching. When our set ended, she walked up to me — calm, no smiles, no games. “You rap well,” she said. “But I can tell you’re not just about the music.” I laughed. “What else am I about then?” She tilted her head. “Trouble.” I should’ve walked away. Should’ve kept it surface. But something about Ruby made me want to open up, even if just a little. We started talking — every day, late nights on the phone, early texts, long walks around Labone and Osu. She showed me a world where the air wasn’t always heavy, where silence didn’t mean danger. She talked about books, travel, God… She even made me watch movies without guns in them. That was a first. And I… I let her into my world bit by bit. Well, the part that looked clean. She never knew about Gavuna, the stabbings, the dirt under my fingernails. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. She was pure — not weak, just untainted. And I couldn’t afford to stain her. But love doesn’t care for secrets. It grows wild — and so it did. By the third month, Ruby had met Problem and O Don. She even laughed at Biggie’s dry jokes and helped Lovelone fix up his broken headphones. I kept thinking, maybe this could work. Maybe I didn’t have to be that street guy forever. One night, after a long studio session, she pulled me aside. “Tero,” she said softly, “I love you.” My chest tightened. I looked at her like she had just handed me a loaded gun. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.” She smiled. “I do.” I kissed her. Not like those club kisses. This was slow. Real. The kind that makes your demons back off for a second. That night, I told myself — I’m marrying this girl. But deep down, I also knew that truth has a way of rising, no matter how deep you bury it. Chapter 8 – Part 2: When Love Meets Fire The days after Ruby said “I love you” were different. I started thinking about things I never cared about before — savings, marriage, a clean future. She was the calm in the chaos I had built for myself. For the first time, I was writing verses that weren’t about war or betrayal. I was writing about her. But love, real love, can’t live in a lie forever. It started one night when Ruby was supposed to surprise me at the studio in Mataheko. But instead of the normal session, that day Gavuna had shown up with heat. We were packing product. Kul and Lovelone were in the corner rolling loud. Problem had just come in from a run — bags full of cash, hands dirty. I didn’t even hear the door open. “Tero?” Her voice cut through the smoke and silence. Heads turned. Ruby stood there frozen. Her eyes scanned the room — the drugs, the guns, the gang. And then they landed on me. She didn’t say a word. She turned around and walked away. I chased after her like my life depended on it. Maybe it did. Outside, I grabbed her wrist. “Ruby, wait—” She pulled back hard. “Don’t touch me, Tero! Don’t you ever touch me again.” “Let me explain—” “Explain what? That you’re a gangster? That I fell in love with a criminal?” Her voice cracked. “All this time… you lied to me.” I wanted to break down. But I couldn’t — not on the street. “I did it to protect you.” “You lied to me to protect yourself.” She left in an Uber. No hug. No kiss. Just a shattered silence. For two weeks, I didn’t hear from her. Nothing. Not a text. Not a like on I*. The boys tried to cheer me up — but even O Don could tell, something in me had died. Then came the storm. One Saturday morning, I was chilling at our corner spot when Lovelone ran in. “Bro, you dey hear the matter?” “What?” “Ruby ein poppy find out. Her old man. Big lawyer for East Legon. He vex. Bro say he go destroy you.” The air got colder. I knew this day would come — but not like this. The next week was hell. I had spies tell me Ruby’s father had filed reports. He wanted me arrested. He even contacted the police commissioner. MMS name started trending for the wrong reasons. Ruby called me finally — voice shaking. “My dad found everything. He wants me to cut ties with you… or he’ll disown me.” “What do you want?” I asked. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Part of me wants to run into your arms. But another part of me… is scared.” “Ruby, I love you. And I’ll walk away from everything for you. The gang, the streets, all of it.” She went quiet. “You mean that?” “I do. I’ve done madness in this life. But the only real thing I’ve ever had… is you.” She sighed. “Then prove it.” ⸻ That night, I sat the gang down. Told them everything. Told them I wanted out. Problem threw a bottle at the wall. “So you wan leave because of woman?” “This not just ‘woman,’ bro. She’s everything.” O Don rubbed his chin. “You really love her like that?” “More than the gang?” I looked at all of them. “Nah. I love her enough to make the gang better. Cleaner. Bigger than crime. Bigger than the street.” It was a gamble. But that’s when something unexpected happened. Kul stood up. “Then let’s change the game. Let’s go legit.” And just like that — a new chapter began to form. But Ruby’s dad wasn’t done. Not even close.
Latest Chapter
Chapter 28 — Problem’s Bloodline
Dansoman, years back. The sun was just beginning to sink, turning the air thick with that red, dusty glow the streets knew so well. A skinny boy no older than ten, barefoot, shirt ripped at the collar, darted between tro-tros and street hawkers. His name then wasn’t “Problem.” He was simply Kwame Mensah, the boy everyone said was “too stubborn to be tamed.”He wasn’t born bad. He was born hungry.His mother, Mama Akos, sold tomatoes at the market. She woke up at 4 a.m. every morning, pushing her basin on her head, humming old gospel songs while her children still slept. Problem had a younger brother, Kojo, frail and always coughing, and a baby sister who didn’t live past her first year. Their father was a ghost — some said he left, others whispered prison. Either way, it didn’t matter.By age twelve, Problem had dropped out of school. His teachers gave up on him; books were never his thing . He started hustling—carrying loads for market women, selling sachet water, and sometimes
Chapter 26 – The Weight of the Spotlight
The morning after the show felt like another planet.Tero had barely shut his eyes before the buzzing of his phone dragged him back to consciousness. It wasn’t one or two messages—it was an avalanche. Missed calls stacked like bricks, WhatsApp notifications refusing to stop, emails flooding in from names he didn’t even recognize. He rubbed his face, still half-dreaming, and reached for the phone.The first thing he saw was his name on Twitter. #TeroLive was trending across Ghana, and not just Ghana—he scrolled and saw Nigerian blogs, South African culture pages, even UK-based Afrobeat channels posting clips from the show.Someone had captioned one video: “The streets just raised a prophet through music. Witness Tero, witness the future.”He sat up in bed, staring at that line. Prophet? That word hit different. He dropped the phone on the mattress like it had burned him.THE FRENZY By noon, the MMs were all gathered at their base, still riding the adrenaline of the night before.
Chapter 26 - Prophecy’s From The Past
While the media frenzy and Jay’s shadow war heat up, Tero starts hearing whispers he doesn’t want to hear.One night after the comeback show, he slips away from the party and finds himself walking through a quieter part of Johannesburg. Street preachers are gathered at a corner, small crowd listening. He almost ignores them, but one old prophet—eyes blazing—locks onto him.“You,” the man points, his voice cutting the night.Tero stops, annoyed. “Me? Nah, bruh, you got the wrong guy.”The preacher shakes his head slowly. “You’re running, son. But you won’t run forever. You’re not called just for the stage—you’re called for the altar. God will use your voice to heal nations.”The crowd murmurs. Ruby, standing behind Tero, looks stunned. Problem laughs it off, “Ei, pastor, this one be superstar, not preacher.”But the prophet keeps staring. “You’ll see. Fame fades. Spirit lasts. He has marked you.”Tero brushes it off, laughing, but inside, his chest is tight. He hates how the words
Chapter 25 – Shadows After Glory
The after-party glittered like gold, but beneath the lights, I felt the shadows creeping. We had just made history on the stage, but in the corner of my eye, Killer Jay’s smile still burned.Back at the hotel, the suite was chaos. Journalists swarmed outside, labels sent champagne, and promoters begged for meetings. Problem bragged loud, O Don was already calculating numbers, Biggie stuffed his face with wings, and Lovelone sat with his guitar, humming new melodies. Ruby floated in the room like a quiet queen, but I could see the worry in her eyes. She hadn’t missed Killer Jay either.“Terrell,” she whispered when the noise dipped, “what aren’t you telling me?”I froze. For a second, I wanted to lie. But her stare pinned me.“He’s back.”Her face paled. “Killer Jay?”I nodded. “Saw him in the crowd tonight. Same eyes, same grin. He wants me to know he ain’t done.”Before she could answer, the door banged open. Security pushed in a man in a dark suit, slick voice, fake smile. Corpor
Chapter 24 - Fire on the Stage
The air felt different when we touched down in Johannesburg. Thick with heat, noise, and something else—anticipation. The Pan-African Music Festival wasn’t just another gig. It was the stage. The place where legends were either born or buried.As soon as we walked out of O.R. Tambo International, the flashes started. Cameras popped like gunfire. Reporters yelled over each other, shoving microphones in our faces.“Terrell, is this your global breakthrough?”“Is MMS ready for the world?”“What do you say to critics who still tie you to your gang past?”I kept my head low, shades on, the Ghana flag stitched on my jacket catching the sun. Ruby walked beside me, calm as ever, her hand brushing against mine. She was no longer just my girl; she was my balance. Every time the crowd got too loud, she steadied me with a look.Behind us, Problem was laughing, eating up the attention. O Don had his hood up, sizing up the scene like it was enemy turf. Lovelone, always quiet, kept his earph
Chapter 23 – Drums Before the Storm
Days before the Pan-African Music Festival? Man, they just zipped by for Tero.Mornings? Rehearsal sweat and yelling over drum loops. Afternoons?Meetings, phone calls, label drama. Nights? Flat on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling, his brain spinning through setlists, verse changes, and the freakin’ pressure of representing Ghana to the whole damn continent. This wasn’t some regular gig. Nah.This was Ghana’s pulse, on a stage big enough for the world to tune in.Lagos, Nairobi, Joburg, Dakar—everyone with a screen or a radio was gonna be watching.The stakes? Sky-high. One misstep, one botched hook, and it’s not just his pride on the line—it’s the whole crew, the whole rep.MMs’ rehearsal space reeked of hard work—sweat, sawdust, and that weird bite of old microphones. The boys were deep in the zone.Problem hunched over his MPC, twisting knobs, making the beat smack so hard the budget studio windows rattled. O Don pacing around, muttering lyrics under his breath like he was tryi
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