Chapter 1: The Prince’s Betrayal

The deposed prince lost everything, and na only me get mind follow am enter exile for six years.

My people even say, 'No be small thing for woman to stand with man when e get nothing.' I no mind, I follow am. I get liver, pass all those wey run leave am when e no get shishi. Even when rain beat us, I no look back. My spirit strong, as dem dey talk for Umuola, 'Lion pikin no dey fear bush.'

When e regain him position, e still send me away from Abuja.

Omo, sometimes life no dey balance. Even after everything wey we face together, him still chase me. For my mind, I wonder wetin dey inside man heart wey woman no fit ever understand.

"Your level no reach. You no fit be my wife."

My mouth open small, words no gree come out. I dey hope say e go change him mind, but e face no shift. As e talk am, e no even look me for eye. The words heavy for air, like say na curse. I just siddon dey watch am, my chest dey pain me, like stone dey press am.

The prince give me one chest of gold, him face proud and cold.

As e hand me the chest, him fingers no even shake. For him mind, e don do me favour. I just dey reason, 'Gold wey no get love, e fit ever sweet person?' The chest heavy for my lap, but my heart heavier. Dem say money no fit buy peace, and true true, I feel am.

"No go too far. Just stay for the outskirts near the city. If I get chance, maybe I go come check you."

Him voice sharp like blade. I remember old women for village wey go say, 'Person wey no want you, no go ever see road reach your house.' E dey act like say I be wahala.

I no answer am. Instead, I waka pass the outskirts of Abuja, go straight back to my papa house for Umuola, wey dey far reach a thousand kilometers.

As I dey waka, dust full my slippers. People dey look me as I dey drag small Ghana-must-go and the gold chest. No person even stop to ask how I dey. As I drag my load, I dey tell myself, tomorrow fit better, but today na real wahala.

As I push open the door of our old, abandoned compound—

The air get smell of old rain and bush rat. Cocoyam leaf dey scatter for compound, and distant goat dey bleat for bush. My heart beat dey skip, I almost run comot. Na so old memories dey do person.

The husband wey dem betroth me to as pikin, wey war scatter us, still dey alive.

E stand there like spirit wey waka from bush. Even as e dey look me, I dey remember small Emeka face wey dey play ten-ten with me when rain dey fall for compound.

He stand up, strong and tall, eyes red, drop him hoe for ground.

Sweat dey drip for him forehead, but e no wipe am. E just stand, chest dey move like say lion dey inside.

"You this small witch, na now you remember say you get house? I don wait for you till all the flowers for here don dry finish." E voice shake small, like say e dey fight tears.

Him voice sharp, but e dey pain inside. For our culture, waiting for betrothed wife na heavy matter—dem go even use am yab man say 'na mumu'. But Emeka no look back, e wait. My legs weak.