Chapter 3: Office Twist

Fifth day, omo, time to go back work.

I pack my bag, iron shirt. Life no dey wait for anybody.

To be honest, after all this, my mind come down small. The pain no too hold me again.

The air for my chest dey light. I dey feel like person wey drop load for head.

But e no mean say depression finish—e just shift.

From vex for cheating, to vex for 9k plus wey waka.

Na true Naija pain—money lost dey pain pass heartbreak sometimes.

Life go on. After I delete and block all Fiona contact, I tell myself say e don end—new life start.

I arrange my phone, clear chat, remove picture. E pain me, but na cleansing.

I go back work.

Monday morning, I reach office early. I greet people, my voice low. Everybody just dey mind their own, but dem know say wahala touch me.

I become the Ifedayo wey sometimes slack, dey complain about business trip, dey close on time.

Some days, I dey lose focus, dey scroll social media, dey chat with friends. I begin dey find myself small small.

But Baba Musa say my head dey touch—say I be like old tractor: sometimes I dey work like mad, sometimes I dey stall, sometimes I just dey idle.

The man get mouth sha. Sometimes he go buy me malt, pat my back. Other times, he go shout, "Ifedayo, you no go kill me!"

But na the real me—me before I jam Fiona.

I begin dey regain my dry joke, dey gist for break time. My colleagues dey notice say I dey come back small small.

I think say my life go just dey go like that, nothing special, peaceful.

I dey plan my weekend, dey reason how to save money, maybe buy car next year.

But life get plan.

You fit dey think say you dey control your story, but Nigeria dey always get twist for you.

One day, as I sit for my desk, leg up, dey chop pancake, dey tap code, na so I see Baba Musa, dey form humble, carry Fiona enter office.

My mouth full, egg dey drop for shirt, but as I see her, my blood cold, like NEPA just take light inside my body.

Maybe my pose just too obvious.

I try form as if I no see them, but my leg stiff for table. My spirit fly, my body remain.

She see me sharp sharp, smile small, whisper something to Baba Musa.

Her smile get small wickedness inside, as if she dey enjoy the wahala. My heart dey knock like carpenter hammer.

Baba Musa look confused, shock, come waka reach me.

He wipe sweat, adjust cap. Him eye dey run up and down between me and her.

"Follow me meeting room. Big client wan see you."

His voice low, as if he dey fear say gist fit blow.

"Me?"

I dey point myself, eye wide. My voice tiny like mosquito.

"Yes, abeg, stand up, no dey ask question."

He dey rush, hand dey shake. I just grab my jotter, dey follow am slow.

We enter meeting room, Fiona just dey look my face, Baba Musa no understand anything.

Fiona sit down like queen, cross leg, eye sharp. The AC cold, but sweat dey her nose small.

"Erm... make I introduce. This na our new big client, Madam Fiona." Baba Musa stand. "This na our tech guy, Ifedayo."

I swallow spit, try smile. For my mind, I dey pray say make ground open.

Then Baba Musa look her: "Ifedayo just dey do tech, him no too sabi product. I no know why you say make he join..."

He dey try reason am, but Fiona just smile, look me from head to toe.

"I just wan gist. I like tech talk." She answer Baba Musa, but her eye no leave me.

Na as if two of us dey play chess, everybody dey wait who go make first move.

"Okay, if you get question, Ifedayo and I go answer."

Baba Musa just dey shift seat, sweat dey drip for his bald head.

"You get time chop together later?" Fiona ask.

She smile, eye dey shine. The question na landmine.

"Sure."

My voice shake. I dey try form big boy, but fear dey grip me.

"You dey mad."

First line from Baba Musa. Second one from me.

Everybody laugh, the tension break small. But I know say new wahala don land. For this Nigeria, story no dey ever end. Tomorrow fit bring new wahala—who sabi?