Chapter 3: Zainab—Queen of Side Chicks

But this side chick too get level.

You see am, you go wan greet her with two hands—she carry herself like queen. She dey step into room, everybody dey look, even women dey jealous her composure.

First, she young pass me, fine pass me—better for man to show off. Second, she sabi wetin men dey like to the letter.

No be all these slay mamas wey just dey do gra-gra. This one get that silent charm—e dey make man forget say he get home. Her hair always dey neat, perfume dey subtle but sweet, and her skin dey glow like she dey drink honey every morning.

She dey play one pure, Nollywood kind romance. She no dey ask my husband for money or connection, she no even talk say she wan be official wife. She just dey love, pure. She dey willing to be side chick; as long as he fit come see am once in a while, she dey okay.

Na that type of love wey dey pain woman pass. The type wey no dey drag, no dey beg, no dey make noise. She dey make am look like say na my husband dey chase her, not the other way round. Na real witchcraft be that.

For her mouth, she talk say her money dey enough, she no need my husband to dey support her—na love she want.

If you hear her talk, you go think say she holy pass church choir. "Obinna, I just want you, not your money." E go sweet my husband ear like Agege bread and butter. But na only mumu go believe say woman dey this Lagos, dey do big business, no dey chop from big oga hand.

E sound pure, but check any of her business, na my husband dey back am with him name and connection. She sabi work, but she know say without person wey get power, e go hard her to get any big deal.

If you see her shop for Lekki, you go believe na magic. But na Obinna connections dey open door for her. I even hear say one contract wey she land na because Obinna talk to senator friend. So, who dey fool who?

On top that, she and my husband dey do the same work—finance—so talk no dey finish between them.

Na so dem dey gist about stock, dollar, forex. Even for house, Obinna go dey smile for phone, dey laugh about "market volatility." Me, na only pepper soup recipe I sabi gist, so I dey left for back.

As for me, I don dey housewife for years. I no fit match her for knowledge or ginger, and me and Obinna no dey connect like before.

After I born my second pikin, na so I leave office. Housework swallow me. Now, if I try follow Obinna talk business, na so him go just nod, check phone, dey absent-minded. That connection don fade.

She no dey give am wahala, and she dey give am better emotional support—tell me, which man no go fall?

No be say I no try, but sometimes, wahala too much. Man like Obinna want peace of mind, and if person like Zainab dey give am that, you go know say temptation dey heavy.

And the one wey pain pass: na Obinna be her first man. I sabi my husband—he too get this first-time complex. I fit bet say he dey feel serious guilt for her.

E pain me reach bone. For my mind, I dey reason: so na me go train man finish, another person go enjoy beta? This "first love" matter dey make Obinna soft for am, like small pikin wey dey find approval.

The less she dey ask, the more Obinna go dey feel say he owe am for life. The only thing wey still dey hold am back from divorce na because I give am three children.

Na true. Na only the pikin matter still dey drag am. Once in a while, when he dey look our children, e go sigh, hold my hand for night. That small feeling na wetin I dey hold onto like old wrapper.

But I don hear am tell press and outsiders more than once how this side chick dey help am for work, how she too get sense.

He dey boast say, "Ah, Zainab? That girl brain dey sharp. She dey help me see angles wey nobody dey see." Na so dem dey press my chest, dey remind me say I don dey outdated.

She don beat me for every angle.

Every angle, na she dey win. Education, beauty, career, even respect for street. Sometimes I dey ask myself, who really get the upper hand?

The main fight dey come, and the only card wey remain for my hand na the small old love wey Obinna still get for me.

My prayer be say make that small love no finish. Even for midnight, na so I dey kneel beside bed, dey whisper, "God, abeg, no let another woman scatter my handwork."