Chapter 1: Pressure Cooker

At 27, my family started pressing me to go and marry. For Naija, once you clock that age as a woman, e be like say alarm don dey ring for everybody head. Aunties wey never even greet me since secondary school begin drop subtle hint. My mama own na steady reminder. If to say I get one naira for every time she mention 'husband', by now I for don build one bungalow for Ikorodu. My phone go dey vibrate tire, even for midnight. Sometimes, I just laugh inside, but the pressure dey show for my skin. Even my younger cousins wey never finish NYSC dey shine eye give me, like say na me spoil market.

I sharply broke up with my boyfriend of three years—the same guy wey I dey craze for—and started going home for blind dates. E no even take time. As dem dey disturb my phone with marriage talk, my head scatter. I just call Tobi one evening, voice calm like say I dey order pure water. After three years of wahala, I end am sharp-sharp. The same night, I dey chat my mama, dey gree for all those her family introduction plans. If dem ask me why, I for no fit even explain. Sometimes, person just tire, you understand? Na so I begin prepare for all those awkward blind dates wey dey wait for me like traffic jam for third mainland bridge.

One friend ask me, “You like Tobi like this, you fit really leave am?”

This my friend, Sade, sabi carry matter for head. As we dey for our usual suya spot, she just eye me well. "Babe, you sure say you fit drop Tobi like that? Na the same guy you dey tell me say you dey dream about, abeg." Her voice get that mixture of worry and disbelief. I just dey look her, dey reason all the times I don swallow insult because of man.

I hissed, “Abeg, I no be mumu. E good for boyfriend matter, but if I marry am, no be suffering go finish me?”

I snap finger, hiss join. "Abeg, make I hear word, Sade. I no be mumu o. E fit dey sweet as boyfriend, but for husband matter? Na suffering go finish me for there. You never see as e dey carry body? If I use my sense now, better for me." My eye dey roll, body dey pepper me as I dey talk. For Naija, make woman shine eye well before she marry, before story go enter another level.

Suddenly, that familiar, moody voice come from my side.

Just as I wan gist finish, I hear that Tobi signature baritone from corner like say e dey hide behind shadow. The kain voice wey dey cool person spirit but fit vex you join.

“Oh? Na so you take dump me?”

I smell him cologne—strong, like new money and stubbornness—before I see am. Tobi voice low, e get one kain way e dey talk wey go make your heart skip. As I hear am, my chest squeeze small. I sharply face am, tongue dey bite inside mouth, but I no gree show am say e shock me. For Naija, man wey sabi hold woman for work, e dey always sharp with comeback.