11th February 

7:36 am

Zaram, how are you doing? I arrived in Awka last night. Can I see you today? 

I had been staring at the WhatsApp message for almost a minute. The last time I had any sort of communication with Michael was almost two months ago, on 27th December. I couldn’t forget the date because of the argument we both had, prior to me telling him to never contact me again. 

I didn’t reply to the message. Instead, I clicked on his profile and viewed his new display picture. It was a portrait picture of him on a beach. He was shirtless, his chocolate brown skin glistening under the sun. I was tempted to zoom in on his abs. I successfully fought the temptation. He was smiling, his perfect set of teeth igniting a familiar feeling in my chest. His piercing eyes stared at me through your cracked phone screen. Except, he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the person who took the picture. A bitter taste filled my mouth as I wondered who it was. Who she was. 

“Do you want to spend a whole day before you bring my food?”

The booming voice from the dining table distracted me from my thoughts.

I cleared my throat before answering, “I’m coming.”

I carefully carried the tray containing my husband’s breakfast to the dining room.

“You cannot see that I’m almost late for work, eh?” He barked as he saw you approaching.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

My hands shook as I dropped the tray before him. The ceramic cup containing his tea shook, spilling some of its contents on the tray. 

“Sorry,” I apologized again, fear squeezing my intestines.

“Sorry for yourself. You are lucky I’m already late. I would have made you change this tray. Look at the mess you’ve made.”

I bit my tongue to prevent another apology from slipping out. Then, I took the seat beside him like I always did. Even if I had eaten earlier or would eat later, Kenneth always made me sit with him whenever he ate.

‘A family that eats together stays together,’ he would say, and you would nod with a smile on your lips.

But this morning, he was pissed. So, no smiling. 

“It’s because I’m spoiling you too much, that’s why you have been acting very lazy. If you also had to leave for work every morning, you won’t be sluggish like this.”

I wanted to tell him that I hated being a stay-at-home wife. I wanted to remind him that he was the one who made me defer a job that I got at Access Bank a few months after our wedding. 

‘Female bankers never have time for their families. If the husband is a barrister and the wife is a banker, who will take care of the kids when they come?’ 

Those had been his exact words that night in the living room, before he asked for the TV remote and changed the channel.

I decided to remain silent, watching him munch his bread and slurp the brown liquid in the cup. A few drops escaped the edge of the cup, falling on the collar of his white shirt. I remained silent.

I exhaled a relieved breath as he stood up some minutes later, done with his breakfast.

“Prepare ofe nsala for dinner.” He dropped a few one thousand naira bills on the table. “Plenty of catfish and pepper, just how I like it.”

And then he grabbed his briefcase and left the house.

I counted the money. Twenty thousand naira. I left it on the table and went to take a shower.

1:54 pm

“Aunty, bịa! E newm ihe ị chọ. I get wetin you want.”

“My colour, come na make I sell for you.”

“Nne, ị chọ female undies?”

Eke Awka was bustling with noise, heat and crowd. I pushed through the narrow pathway, navigating through several bodies and desperate market sellers. I hated coming to the market on Saturdays. Not that the place was empty on other days, but Saturdays were just busier and more stressful.

I struggled with my heavy Ghana-must-go bag, glad that there was only one item left on your list. I hissed know frustration when one of my legs stepped into a pothole.

Finally, I arrived at my customer’s spot.

“Customer! Good afternoon,” the middle-aged woman greeted me with a smile as she saw me.

“Good afternoon, ma. How market?”

“Hmm. Market slow today but we thank God.”

“Chai. Oya put five thousand naira own for me.”

The woman collected two black nylon bags, doubled them and began to count the onions.

I raised my hand to check the time on my wristwatch.

“Welcome sir,” the woman greeted someone else.

That was when the familiar scent hit me.

I raised my head to look at the man standing beside me. He was already looking at me.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to voice out.

“I told you I was in Awka, didn’t I?”

And then he smiled. Everything else seemed to freeze as I stared at him. I took in the sharp edges of his low-cut hair and his clean-shaven jaw. He looked different; younger, healthier and happier.

I wanted to hug him. I didn’t care if we both were under the scorching sun, in the middle of the rowdy market. I wanted to bury my nose into his chest and inhale deeply.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I turned to my customer and gave her her money with shaky hands.

“You didn’t respond to my message this morning.”

I ignored him and stretched my hand to carry the nylon of onions. He beat me to it, taking the bag from the woman whose eyes twinkled in curiosity.

A sigh escaped my lips.

“Michael, what do you want?”

“Calm down,” he laughed as I started to move. “Is this how you greet a friend you haven’t seen in months? You’re making it too obvious that you’re unhappy to see me. My feelings are hurt.”

“I just saw you last Christmas,” I pointed out. He took the ghana must go from my other hand.

“It doesn’t matter. Every second away from you feels like years.”

I wanted to remind him of the last argument you both had. I wanted to remind him to stop saying things like that to me. 

Instead, I smiled.

Michael laughed when he saw me trying to hide my face.

“Stop trying to hide it. You’ve fallen for my charm.”

I had to roll my eyes. “Relax. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

But I was still smiling, and he was too.

“Where did you park?” He asked as we both approached the roundabout.

Buses were lined up across the road, with bus drivers yelling. “Ifite! Aroma! Tempsite!”

“I didn’t come with my car.”

“Why? How were you planning to carry these heavy bags home?”

“It’s at the mechanic,” I lied.

How could I tell him that Kenneth prohibited me from driving it because a keke driver had scratched it once on my way to a salon?

But Michael was no fool. He knew I was lying. 

Instead of voicing out his hatred for my husband, he smiled.

“Well, you’re in luck today. I parked somewhere close…”

I was already shaking my head before he was done.

“You won’t drive me home, Michael.”

He paused and looked at me. “Why?”

He knew why. I had told him multiple times.

He clenched his jaws in annoyance. “I’m your friend, Zaram. Yes, I was once in love with you, but before that, before all the drama, I was your best friend.”

My heart squeezed painfully at his words. He was no longer in love with me. I should be happy, relieved even. So, why did it hurt so badly?

“…I won’t watch you enter that bus or a keke when I can easily take you home. I don’t know what kind of husband has cars at home and yet his wife uses public transportation!”

“Michael stop,” I tried to calm him down, but he was pissed. 

“Why should I stop? I hate seeing you like this?”

“You will stop because I said so,” I finally snapped. “You do this all the time, and this is why I didn’t want to see you anymore. We met just minutes ago and you’re already at it. You attack my husband at any chance you get. Well, guess what? We are married. Nothing can be done about that! So, will you drive me home or will you keep raging like a market woman?”

His lips were pursed as he stared down at me. He regarded me for a few minutes. I rolled my eyes again when I noticed he was trying to hide a smile.

“So you’ve finally conceded?”

“What?”

“You will see me now? That is if I don’t mention your husband.”

“When did I say that?

“Should I start explaining the semantics behind your statement?” He asked before dropping the bags at my feet. “Wait here. Let me bring my car.”

I didn’t bother hiding my smile this time as I watched his retreating figure.

***

I met Michael on my first day at university. 

The clearance process in Unizik was stressful and tiring. Hours standing under the hot sun in front of the E-library, bodies pressing against each other in the queues, desperate students pushing others to join the queues. When I was done with the E-clearance, I had to proceed to the cyber cafe to print out the clearance slip.

My throat was dry and my stomach grumbled in hunger. A random boy was walking behind me. 

“Please where’s the cyber cafe?” I had turned to ask him.

“In Bamboo.”

“Where’s bamboo?” I’d asked.

“Just an area where they sell food and stuff. Don’t worry, that’s the direction we’re headed.”

That was when I noticed the boy was cute. I had been too hungry to pay attention to that.

“Are you a new student too?” I’d asked.

“Yup.”

“What department?”

“Computer science…”

“Really! I’ve been looking for a fellow computer science student,” I squealed in joy.

The boy’s lips tipped upwards at the side. He was silently laughing at me.

“Hmm. This is how love stories usually start. First, we eat together, then we walk together in school every day because I’m the only one you know. Then, what next? You fall in love with me…”

I had scoffed. 

“Wetin this one dey talk?”

But that was exactly how it played out.

***

“So, you didn’t buy anything in the market because of me? What will you tell Mama?”

Michael laughed, pulling his car into my street. 

“She sent me to give someone something. Then I remembered she said she’d run out of onions. That was what I came to buy before I saw you. But even though she’d sent me to buy other things, I’m sure she’ll understand if I tell her I bumped into Zaram in the market.

I smiled, knowing that that would be Mama’s reaction. 

“How is she doing?”

Michael chuckled at the question. The sound was bitter.

“You live with her here in Awka. Yet, you’re asking me who’s just visiting about her.”

I knew he was right, yet, I still tried to defend myself.

“We both live in different parts of Awka. I can’t bump into her every other day.”

“Zaram, please stop making excuses. It’s fine if you no longer want to see her. But hearing you make excuses for it is quite insulting. I believe Mama isn’t just a random woman to you. I like to believe that she’s more than that.”

I faced the window, holding back my tears. 

“She’s been asking about you. During Christmas, she asked about you. When we were talking yesterday, she asked if I was planning to see you…”

“Please stop,” I whispered as a tear slipped out.

A scoff left his lips.

“And then you ask me why I hate him. I know he’s the reason you stopped going to see her. I just know.”

When I moved back to Awka with Kenneth after our wedding, I went to visit Mama every week. Michael was miles away in Lagos, his two younger siblings were in school. Mama lived alone, with a young boy who took care of her.

Paying her regular visits was the least I could do. During our university days, Michael and I spent almost every weekend in her house. The woman adored me, and I felt the same way about her. She treated me like her own granddaughter.

But things were no longer the same as before. I’d broken her heart. She always mentioned how she thought I would end up with Michael, and how she’d been excited to have me as an official part of the family. 

It was too much. So before Kenneth stopped me from visiting her, claiming that it was weird to keep visiting the grandmother of my ex-boyfriend, I’d already planned to stop.

“She told me to leave my husband, Michael. She kept telling me that we needed to settle our differences and get back together.”

Michael sighed. “I’m sorry. Mama always oversteps.”

“Like you.”

He smiled, despite the pain in his eyes.

“I’ll tell her to stop. Just…come visit her. Okay? She’s lonely.”

“I will,” I promised.

Michael came to a stop in front of the huge, black gate of my compound.

“Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?” He suddenly asked.

His words rubbed me off in the wrong way.

“What do you mean? Of course, I have plans with my husband,” I responded, offended.

“Relax,” Michael laughed. “You don’t have to lie. Some men are just not romantic. It’s understandable.”

Ignoring the obvious dig at Kenneth, I unlocked the passenger’s door and stepped down. He followed suit, before coming to open the back seat where my shopping bags were.

“Thanks for the ride home. I really appreciate it,” I said as he brought the bags down.

“It’s nothing.” He shut the door and then looked down into my eyes. “Will you come tomorrow? To see Mama, that is.”

I almost smiled. Me coming over to the house meant I was going to see him too.

“Tomorrow is Sunday. My husband will be home.”

“Ah,” he slipped his hands into his pockets. 

“On Monday,” I promised.

He nodded, repeating, “On Monday.”

I felt his eyes follow me until I entered my compound and shut the gate.

12th February 

6:46 pm

“Darling, what are we doing for Valentine’s Day?”

Kenneth dragged his eyes away from the television currently airing a football match. I fiddled my hands on my lap, trying so hard to hold his stare.

“Where is that question coming from?”

We’d never celebrated Valentine’s Day since I met him. I understood his surprise.

I faked a chuckle. “I’ve just been seeing it everywhere on social media. And I thought it would be nice if we did something that day. Maybe go out to dinner…”

“So, you want to import social media things into our marriage?” He barked. “Since when have we celebrated Valentine’s Day in this household?”

I forced a smile to remain on my lips. Inside, I already regretted bringing it up.

“I know, but it’s never too late to start.” I placed a hand on his. “It’s a lovers' holiday, just once a year.”

He pulled his hand away from mine.

“So, you need one day in a year for me to show you that I love you? What of the roof you are living under? Is it not love? The money I give you, the things I buy you, the protection and care…”

I remained silent, but my anger threatened to burst open. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.

Our marriage was loveless. We lived like strangers under a roof. We never had conversations unless I tried to bring them up. And whenever I did, he always brushed it off. The only times he had an interest in talking to me was when complained about something I did or barked out orders at me.

So, where was the love?

“I spend hours at work every day, just for us to be comfortable. You stay at home all day, doing nothing, just scrolling on social media and comparing your marriage to that of other people. Do you know how fake social media is?”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from bursting into tears. 

‘Patience,’ I told myself. ‘He’ll soon be done.’

“The only thing you do for me is cook food and give me sex. The food, nothing to write home about. The sex, you haven’t convinced even once since we got married. Instead of focusing on Valentine, why don’t you try to find out what your problem is, eh? Let’s start from there first.”

He faced the television again, just in time for Arsenal to score. 

“Goal!” He screamed in celebration like his words did not just cut my heart to pieces.

***

The day I met Kenneth, I knew it was the will of God. He came into my life the exact moment I needed him. 

We boarded the same plane from Lagos to Enugu. He sat beside me and throughout the flight, he kept trying to bring up small talk between us. I indulged him. He sounded smart, and I wanted something to distract me from my broken heart. When I learnt that he was a barrister, I became more intrigued. 

Our discussion touched on a wide range of topics. Politics, business, religion, et cetera. We shared similar views, and it was refreshing to hear him speak with so much knowledge on things I was confused about.

We had to go our separate ways when we arrived at Akanu Ibiam International Airport. I was going to Uwani, where my mother lived. He was traveling to Awka where he was based. 

We exchanged phone numbers and our communication continued. He was charming and protective, and back then, I thought he was romantic too. He knew about my family, things I didn’t tell anyone, things only Michael knew. He didn’t judge me when I told him that I was born out of wedlock and that I was the only child of my unmarried mother.

I spent three months in Enugu. I’d been let off from my job as a graphics designer for a communications and marketing agency in Lagos. I could no longer afford rent there, and I couldn’t stay with Michael. During those three months, I travelled between Enugu and Awka every weekend. Our relationship continued to grow. 

I didn’t notice the red flags early. 

He got pissed whenever someone referred to him as ‘The Law’. He was a barrister, why should he be called the same name as common law school students? I thought it wasn’t a big deal. Those people were probably just ignorant, just like I was. But I understood his annoyance.

He asked me to change whenever I wore something he didn’t like. Initially, when I would refuse, he would claim that he was trying to protect me from dangerous men. He would tell me that I was too beautiful, and wearing tight dresses and clothes that showed my shoulders and even the tiniest bit of cleavage was attracting too much attention. I understood his care. 

He got angry easily, and he said the cruellest things whenever he was angry. Back then, he cared enough to apologize later, claiming that I’d pushed him to the wall. I understood his temper.

I was at a low point when he asked me to marry him. I was 27, unwanted, with no job and no money to my name. After four years of dating Michael after we graduated, he still said he wasn’t ready to get married. Kenneth proposed three months after we met.

He was a good man. He visited my mother. He started up a provision store for her. He’d just paid her rent two days before he proposed.

I felt indebted to him. 

But I didn’t love him. I respected him, I feared him even, but I didn’t love him.

My heart didn’t skip a beat when he looked at me. I didn’t feel the butterflies in my stomach whenever he touched me. He didn’t steal my breath when he walked into the room. 

And when we kissed, it didn’t make my toes curl in pleasure. It didn’t make my body burn with need. It didn’t make me want more.

But he loved me, or at least I thought so.

Date the one you love, marry the one who loves you. At the end of the day, love didn’t really matter when it came to marriage. Sacrifice and devotion did. Those were my mother’s words.

And as long as Kenneth cared for me and performed his duties as a husband, I would eventually learn to love him.

Except, I didn’t know his true colours until we’d gotten married.

13th February

4:14 pm

“Michael asked me for his blessings to propose to you. So, I was shocked when he called me a day later to say you got married to someone else. I still couldn’t believe it, even when you came to visit and I saw the ring on your finger. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t swallow it. In my eyes, you and Michael were already married.

A soft breeze blew, rustling some dried mango leaves on the ground. We were seated outside Mama’s compound, under the large mango tree in the middle of the compound.

My fingers dug into my palm, almost drawing blood due to how tight my fists were clenched. I stared at the old woman before me, her words repeating over and over again in my head.

Michael wanted to propose. If only I had waited a few months longer, we would have been married.

“It’s okay, Ma,” I said, forcing a smile onto my lips. “You don’t have to explain.”

She smiled, and it struck me how strikingly similar they looked. 

“I’m glad this is settled. So, now, you will come to see me regularly, ọkwa ya?”

“Of course.”

Michael stepped out of the house, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Something fluttered in my chest as I watched him approach us. From my peripheral view, I saw Mama smiling.

“What have you both been talking about?” He asked, taking the space on the bench beside me. 

His arm mistakenly brushed against mine and a pleasant shiver rolled through my body. When it happened again, I knew it wasn’t a mistake. I turned to look at him, catching the mischievous smile on his lips.

I rolled my eyes and he laughed.

When I turned to look at Mama, her eyes were wet, with a distant smile on her face. 

I stood abruptly.

“Mama, thanks for the chin chin and juice. I have to go now. It’s getting late.”

“Nwa m, it’s well with you. Thank you for your time. Get home safely, inugo?”

I bent down to hug her. She smelt like shea butter and ude akị. The hug lingered for a while before I pulled away.

“I’ll take you home,” Michael said as we walked to the gate.

“No, you won’t. I came with my car.”

“Really?” 

I nodded. 

I’d cried myself to sleep last night. This morning, I remained in bed. I didn’t get up to boil water for his bath. I didn’t make him breakfast. He finally snapped when he realized he would go to work hungry. He shouted for two minutes straight. I didn’t budge. He was so furious, if he was a cartoon character, steam would have escaped from his ears.

He had never gotten that mad at me before. He got angry easily, but earlier today, he was furious. He slammed the bedside lamp against the wall. I was terrified, even though I held his gaze. I was scared he would hit me with the way he was vibrating, yelling so loud that would give our neighbours a day’s worth of gossip. He yelled until he saw his words did not affect me. That was when he stormed out of the house.

I got up from bed immediately after he left, made my breakfast, took a shower and got dressed. Then, I went to where he kept all the car keys, took the one I wanted and left the house.

***

“Does your husband hit you?”

“What?” 

I’d turned to Michael, offended by his words. It was the 27th of December. He and his siblings came to Awka to spend Christmas with Mama. He wanted us to meet. It was our second meeting after I’d gotten married. The first one was when I bumped into him at a mutual friend’s wedding in Lagos. 

“I asked if your husband hits you…”

“I heard what you said,” I’d snapped. “Why would you ask me such a question?”

“You are so defensive. He is abusing you.”

My chair scraped back noisily as I stood up, drawing the attention of a few other people in the restaurant.

“This was a bad idea. Goodbye.”

But Michael was stubborn. He followed me outside and grabbed my hand when I moved to unlock my car.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t go,” he pleaded.

“No. You’re not sorry. You think you know everything, that you can just walk around making assumptions because what? We dated years ago?”

He slipped his hands into his pants pockets, staring down at me. 

“I know you are so convinced that I’m in an unhappy marriage. Sorry to break it to you, Michael. I’m very much happy,” I hissed.

“You see this car? He bought it on my birthday as a gift. He takes care of me. He loves me…”

His hand came up to touch my face and I flinched. 

“See? You’ve been jumpy the entire day. This was exactly how you were at Amaka’s wedding. You’ve become this…different person. There’s no joy in your eyes, Chizaram. Your eyes are empty.”

His breaths heaved as he buried his hands in his hair. He had locks back then.

“I don’t know what he’s doing to you, but I know he’s abusive. It might not be physical. Mental, emotional, psychological abuse maybe…”

“Oh please,” I scoffed as the truth of his words hit me.

“Is it the money? Is that why you’re still with him? I can give you everything you want, Zaram. Every single thing.”

Michael had gotten a role as a web developer in a tech startup company. He could give us the life we dreamt of, those days after NYSC, when we walked around with our files in the streets of Lagos.

“You think I’m with him because of money?” I’d asked, utterly insulted. 

“Okay, then if it isn’t money, what is it?” He yelled in exasperation. “Because I know it isn’t love.”

I exhaled a breath and pressed two fingers against my temple.

“Michael, leave me alone. I’m done. Go back to Lagos or wherever you’re coming from. Leave me alone!”

“Chizaram…”

“Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t try to contact me, or I’ll block you again.”

He didn’t try to stop me when I entered my car. He watched as I drove away from him.

***

“Okay. So, what are you and your husband doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing. He’ll be working. I’ll probably just watch a movie and go to bed early.”

“Good,” Michael smiled. 

I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“Let me take you out.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I sighed. “Michael, I am a married woman. I can’t go out on a date with you.”

“And who says it’s a date?” He argued. “It’ll just be an outing between two friends…”

“On Valentine’s Day?”

“And so? Friends hang out on Valentine’s Day, don’t they?”

“Stop with the friends talk,” I said, stopping in my tracks. “You and I both know we stopped being friends years ago. You don’t want to be my friend, Michael. And quite frankly, I don’t want to be yours either. I’m married. I’ve moved on…”

“I’m leaving the country.”

My heart stopped.

I stared at him. “What?”

His smile was sad, his eyes silently pleading. 

“That’s why I came to Awka. To see you, and Grandma, for the last time before I leave. My flight from Lagos to Istanbul is on the 17th. I’ll leave for Lagos on the 15th. So please, grant me this last wish.”

14th February 

8:09 pm

The last time we were here was on my 20th birthday. We had taken a bus from school gate, Ifite, to celebrate, with our last card. Here we were, ten years later, still together, but not in the same way as I would have thought back then. 

“You look beautiful,” Michale murmured, drawing my attention to him. 

I blushed. “Thank you.”

The cold, night breeze blew against my skin, making the trees around us sway. The ambience of the restaurant was inviting, with soft background music playing and the murmur of lively conversations filling the air.

“This your new job, tell me about it.”

He proceeded to talk about it. He’d been recruited for the role of a software developer in Cisco’s Manchester headquarters, with relocation benefits included. I could sense the excitement in his tone, and I was more than happy for him.

We were served the most delicious Nkwobi I’ve ever had. After that, we ate native rice and grilled fish. Then we drank wine and danced to the soft music being played by the live band. 

I was happy. I was free. I didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong by being here with Michael. He was my friend, and he was leaving the country. This was goodbye.

So, I let myself enjoy my night. Even when my phone started ringing non-stop with calls from Kenneth. Even when I’d spotted one of his colleagues from the state ministry of justice shooting glared at me. I let myself be.

The reality came crashing down on the way home. Michael was silent. I was silent. The only thing that could be heard was the soft hum of his car engine as he drove me home.

“Leave the country with me.”

“Michael…”

“I know it seems impossible, but we can do it. I’ll wait for you. You’ll divorce your husband, we’ll get married…”

“You sound stupid right now,” I spat. “What about your job offer? Will you forfeit that too?”

His hands tightened against the steering wheel. “Jobs come and go. I can’t live without you.”

“You’ve lived without me for two years. You’ll be fine.”

My body shot forward, a gasp escaping my lips as the car screeched, coming to a stop by the side of the road.

“You call this life?” He yelled. “I’ve been miserable without you. I can’t do this for the rest of my life.”

And then he buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

“Why did you leave me?”

My own tears came, uncontrollably.

“I waited for you. I waited for four years, Michael. I waited for you to get a job, waited for you to get stable, yet, you still weren’t ready to settle down…”

He turned and pointed his fingers at me, tears streaming down his face.

“We were perfect even before marriage. We’ve always been perfect for each other. When we were just friends, and when our friendship blossomed into something more…”

“So what was I supposed to do? Remain your girlfriend forever? Get pregnant and become another baby mama?” I screamed.

“And what would have happened if it didn’t later work out between us? I would end up with a bastard child, just like my mother!”

Michael flinched at my words. He looked at me, his eyes holding pain.

“That’s the difference between me and you, Zaram. I trusted you. I trusted our relationship. I trusted that nothing would come between us. But guess who came between us? You!”

He chuckled bitterly before continuing.

“You left Lagos without telling me. All because I told you I didn’t see myself getting married in two years. I was worried sick for weeks! You blocked me. I called your mother every day. She told me you were with her, but you didn’t want anything to do with me. That you had moved on…”

He laughed. “I didn’t believe it. She said you had a new boyfriend. I didn’t believe it. So I worked harder. I saved up some money. I was ready to marry you. I came back to Awka and asked Mama for her blessings. Do you know how I knew about your wedding? I saw someone, a random man, with your wedding jotter in the park, the day I was supposed to come to Enugu.”

“Why didn’t you come earlier?” I screamed in his face. “All those months you spent calling and calling? Why didn’t you come? I was still waiting for you, even while I was seeing Kenneth, I was waiting for you!”

“I wanted to be ready,” he sobbed again. “I was broke, Zaram. I feared you wouldn’t take me back.”

“It was never about the money for me,” I whispered. “If you wanted to make it work, we would have made it work.”

Michael groaned, wiping his tears while I stifled my sobs.

“Well, we still have the time to correct our mistakes. I want to make it work now.”

Another tear slipped down my eyes. “It’s too late. We’ve both moved on. I’m married, and you’re leaving the country. Let’s just let it be.”

Michael remained silent for some minutes before asking.

“Will you endure it till the end? Your marriage.”

I nodded. There was no point trying to pretend like I was happy. 

“I made a vow.”

He turned on the ignition again and we continued the journey home. By the time we got to my house, it was past 10 pm, and the generator was on. Kenneth was home.

Yet, I didn’t panic. I didn’t feel guilty. I felt nothing.

“So, is this really goodbye?”

I turned to look at his face. It hurt physically. 

“Maybe, maybe not. Anything can happen.”

Michael clenched his jaws, nodding.

“Grant me one last request.”

“Anything.”

“Kiss me.”

And I did. Our lips pressed together. It was a short kiss, but still long enough to be memorable, to be ingrained in my mind and engraved in my heart. 

Minutes later, when I stepped into the living room, Kenneth sprung up from the sofa.

“Where have you been? Where did you go?”

He was furious, marching towards me in rage.

“I went on a date with Michael. Remember him? My ex. Yeah, he was in town so he took me on a Valentine’s Day date. You know, the one you refused to take me on.”

I saw his eyes twitch. I saw his hands ball into fists. So, I waited. I waited for him to hit me, to either kill me or give me a valid reason to leave this marriage. 

He didn’t do any of those. Instead, he walked away.