Chapter 11: Aftermath and Lagos Secrets

Next day, Musa's Kitchen put sign: "Closed for family reason." Moving van park downstairs, some men enter Baba Musa house, carry big bags and boxes—including that freezer. Baba Musa just disappear like that. Nobody ask where he go, nobody ask why him no carry wife.

Neighbours gather small, dey whisper. Some dey say 'dem don travel,' some dey talk 'maybe e get new business for village.' For this Lagos, once trouble pass, everybody dey look front. Life no dey wait for anybody.

Life just return normal, sharp sharp. Sometimes, na so people be—no matter how big, once e pass, e pass. Musa's Kitchen get new paint, buka sign comot, carry go with rubbish, firecracker sound announce new pepper soup spot.

The old wall get new graffiti, new owner dey play Fuji music loud. Na so hustle continue, story pass to next chapter. For Lagos, nobody get time for past.

Zainab dey ask me about marriage plan. She no dey patient like before. She know I no get 1.5 million, but she still dey press me for answer.

She dey call, dey text, dey ask 'how far?' My own mind dey scatter, money wahala dey press me. She dey plan life, but I dey drown for reality.

As I dey think say to live for place wey everywhere smell, to live life wey fit end with two or three knife cut, to see say love and marriage no reach pay-per-night matter, I just feel say love na scam—just money and betrayal.

I dey vex, my heart dey bitter. I dey look Zainab message, dey feel empty. I dey ask myself whether love na lie for this world.

I break up with Zainab. She vex, we fight. She call me useless, waka commot.

Her voice loud for call. She insult me, say 'I waste her time.' She block me everywhere. I just sit for room, dey drink garri with groundnut, dey reason my life.

Na my first breakup. I no get pride, but I never hurt her. She fit still marry better man as virgin, at least that one comfort me.

I dey tell myself say na better thing I do. At least, she still get her dignity. For this world, na only person wey get hope fit survive.

I just dey manage myself for one week, I no expect say Zainab go call me again. She apologize, say she no mature, she no value our love. She say she don tell her family, dem agree—no bride price, no house or car, just treat her well, we fit marry. Even if no wedding party, no wahala.

Her call surprise me. She dey cry, voice low. 'Abeg, make we start again,' she beg. She talk say her family no send tradition again, dem just want her happy. For my mind, small hope rise.

She insist make we see. My mind soft—after all, na my first love. As we jam, she hug me, beg for kiss, say she no wan dey alone again, she dey lonely, wan dey live with me.

We meet for small eatery. She wear red scarf, her eyes swell. As she hug me, na so tears touch my own eye. I forgive am, she forgive me. Na small love remain for this world, so make we hold am.

As I see her small and soft, I gree. That night, we knack.

We hold each other for long. For that night, all my pain vanish. Na as if world dey restart. We both sleep, hand for hand, hope dey our dream.

I give the flat to agent to sublet, use all my savings buy cig and drink, then follow Zainab go meet her parents. Everything go smooth. Her parents no ask for anything, agree make we marry. Zainab dey shy, no look my face. Her brother no dey—say he dey work for city. Maybe e better, at least one less wahala.

Her mama cook for us, her papa dey smile. Dem say 'just treat our daughter well.' For my mind, na second chance I get.

After, we go my hometown. My parents happy to see Zainab, say she fresh, she go born strong pikin.

My mama dance, call neighbours. My papa dey laugh, say 'this one go give us twins.' For my mind, peace finally land.

One month later, we marry—at age wey I never get anything, but love finally work for me.

The wedding na small, just few friends. We no wear big lace, but joy full everywhere. Na start of new life.

With wedding, sweets, plenty congratulations, I forget Palm Grove Street, forget Baba Musa, even forget the dead body for freezer. I just remember say her name na Amaka, wey get past wey people no like.

For my mind, her face go fade, but the lesson dey remain—na Lagos make people strong, na secret fit kill person. I dey tell myself say make I leave past for behind, carry love face front.

For Zainab, I begin hustle. We move go another city, I work as estate agent. Maybe na Zainab bring me luck, as I start, dem plan build good school for our area, houses begin sell fast, I make my first big money.

I start with small shirt and borrowed shoe. As market dey move, I dey greet landlord, dey run up and down, dey hustle commission. For my mind, na Zainab be my juju—she dey pray, dey encourage me. Our small house turn home.

Zainab get belle. Doctor talk say na twins. Joy nearly kill me.

We both cry for hospital. I buy malt, she buy suya. That night, na celebration—no money, but plenty love.

That time, na my happiest. From tenant to landlord, from outskirts to city, from just two of us to family of four—I think say I must do better thing for past life for God to bless me like this.

We dey manage, dey laugh, dey dream. Every night, I dey thank God say my story change. For Lagos, na only grace fit run am.

We dey enjoy. I dey hustle, she dey take care of children. I dey tell friends, na game bring me wife—if you get hope, even person wey dey play for money fit find love.

I dey advice area boys, dey tell dem 'no lose hope, your own better go come.' Our house dey full, laughter dey every corner. Even my parents dey visit, dey play with twins.

Before I know, both boys reach eight, me and Zainab don marry ten years. To celebrate, and show my love, I decide say make we travel.

We gather money, I save up, buy new bag for everybody. Zainab dey sew matching Ankara for all of us. The twins dey shout for parlour, dey list all the things dem wan see for road.

I pick plenty places, but the boys no gree. Dem watch video online, insist say make we go one small town for southwest mountain. The video show guesthouse for hill, environment cool. People talk say the owner get special restaurant down the hill, dey sell big bowl food—area don blow for Facebook.

The boys dey shout 'we wan go! we wan go!' Zainab say make we try am. For my mind, I dey glad say finally, na family dey decide together.

Zainab say if the kids wan go, she go follow. I gree—city life don tire us. I buy train ticket, book room for guesthouse with compound.

We pack bag, enter train. Na first time twins dey travel far. I carry Zainab, twins dey snap picture, dey laugh, dey count cow for bush.

Ten hours on the road, the kids dey happy. Me and Zainab dey take turn rest, dey watch the kids.

We chop groundnut, buy gala for station. For every stop, twins dey wave people. Zainab dey smile, dey sing old song. For that journey, life sweet pass honey.

But as we enter the big bowl restaurant, na like say pin prick my eye, my blood just boil.

My feet slow, I dey look counter. My heart miss beat. For my eye, na face wey I no fit forget—Amaka.

The woman wey dey collect money for counter na Amaka. Her eyes jam my own—old Lagos secret dey pass between us, silent like midnight rain.

She stand, skin fair, face round, her eyes sharp as before. She tie wrapper, wear small gold chain. For her side, one small boy dey run, call 'Mummy! Mummy!' For my mind, memories dey return, old pain dey rush. The world small, Lagos story never end. I stand, dey look, dey reason—na so life dey be.