Chapter 5: Soft Life, Hard Choices

As I dey spend, Halima attitude change.

Her smile dey longer, her voice dey soft. She dey call, dey check on me.

She delete that blind date guy WhatsApp in my presence, even block number—show me phone, hug me like king.

And the way she dey call me change too.

Instead of "Mr. Bako," she start "Brother Musa." Sometimes for bed, na "Daddy." That one dey burst my head.

Instead of leaving sharp-sharp, she dey snuggle, head for my chest, hand dey play with my beard. She go yarn about childhood, tell story of her village. I never see her open up like this.

But as things dey sweet, wahala dey follow.

Since she dey catch feeling, her possessiveness grow. She dey check time, dey ask for weekend, dey do small jealousy.

She dey beg me sleep over every week. If I no show, she go do silent treatment.

To balance two homes dey hard. My brain dey work overtime.

Lucky for me, Amara no dey suspect. She believe say her Musa na good man. As long as I talk say work dey urgent, she go accept.

I dey monitor her face—she no suspect. My game dey tight.

Na so time dey go. Week dey pass, belly dey grow, money dey fly.

Before I know, Amara due date land. Hospital bag ready, her mama come from Onitsha. House full, but my mind dey run calculation.

On delivery day, female doctor say make I enter theatre. She wan make I see as labour hard.

Doctor dey smile, dey talk supportive husband talk. I dey nod, body dey vex.

Truth be say, I hate that doctor that moment.

I hear say women fit lose control for labour, some even get wahala for body.

Now, after stay with Amara—her body don change, no be the Amara I remember from campus—make I come see am born?

For my mind, I dey curse. The thought dey make me sick.

Lucky, Amara sabi my mind. She tell doctor, "No need, I no want my husband see me like that."

Doctor nod, I sigh relief.

Not long after dem wheel Amara go delivery, her scream scatter corridor. Nurses dey run. My work na to dey form concern.

Her parents dey cry, hold scarf. I feel nothing—just dey wish make dem finish quick.

She fit do CS, but she insist on natural birth, no painkiller. Her pain na her own choice. For my mind: "Who send you?"

But for front of family, I force tears—press eye, sniff, drop one. Make dem believe.

Just then, phone vibrate. Na Halima.

Her name flash, my heart jump.

[Your wife dey born. You dey pity am?]

I see jealousy for message, smile small.

I reply: [For her, nothing. If na you, e go be like arrow dey pierce my heart.]

She reply sharp: [I dey hospital underground car park. You fit come down?]

I know wetin she mean. But my wife dey born, in-laws dey beside me. If I waka now, na big disgrace.

As I dey reason am, Halima send again: [Five minutes. If you no come, I dey go.]

Time dey tick. My mind dey hot.

I grit teeth, stand up, wipe fake tears. My in-law dey look me, but I form say I wan take call. For my mind, na only God know how this one go end.

As I step outside, my phone dey buzz again—Halima or wahala, I no even know which one dey wait.