Chapter 5: Ifunanya Trend, My Scar Remain

Lagos sky dey dark, rain dey threaten but no drop yet.

June, Ifunanya finish her national tour, return Abuja with Tobi. That day, road near hospital full—na only way wey lead to Ifunanya house.

Abuja traffic na wah. Paparazzi, fans, touts, all dey block road. Ifunanya car just dey slow like snail.

She sit for her car, dey kiss Tobi. Camera flash everywhere, livestream crash. Comments dey fly like rain. Their CP fans dey craze.

Instagram, Twitter, TikTok—all don choke with Ifunanya gist. Even my cousin for Ibadan dey ask me, "Guy, you see Ifunanya trend?"

"Ifunanya × Tobi, together forever..."

"My girl don finally catch her own sugar daddy, the one wey save her."

"Abeg, make una marry..."

If to say na wedding, e go sweet. But na so social media dey push person to do nonsense.

Reporter push enter crowd, ask, "You dey live with Mr. Tobi? We fit follow you reach house interview?"

Reporters no dey fear face. Na so dem dey do for Abuja.

Normally, nobody go gree. But as villainess for the book, Ifunanya dey craze for Tobi. Any chance to tie their name together, she go grab. So, she answer sharp, "Yes."

She no even send say she be celebrity. For her mind, na love show.

But she remember say house rough. Photo of her and Chuka still scatter for master bedroom. She call Chuka.

I pick.

Her voice first carry small tension, but she still try package am.

"Chuka, where you dey?"

I just look am from far, as she dey hold Tobi, no talk. Chuka thin body dey stretcher for my car back seat.

My heart dey beat slow. As I look Ifunanya, my mind dey heavy.

Ifunanya don tire. "I no care where you dey, go house now clear anything wey show say you live there."

She just wan clear her track, make public no see any scandal. Na so life dey go when person pursue fame pass friendship.

"Ifunanya, look back."

I talk am soft, but I see her hand dey shake. That moment na real suspense.

She hear my voice freeze. She turn, see me for hearse passenger seat through the crowd.

Her mouth open, phone nearly drop. Abuja sun hot, but she cold.

I talk, "Chuka get pancreatic cancer. He just die. As you dey kiss Tobi for car, na him corpse pass your front."

The thing hit her like slap. If to say na Nollywood, na here camera go focus her face, slow motion.

Ifunanya no talk. She just hold phone, dey look me. Crowd dey move. Reporters and Tobi dey ask, Ifunanya no answer.

Her spirit don waka. For her eye, na only Chuka dey exist that time.

Suddenly, everywhere slow down. In front of all the cameras, Ifunanya rush comot from van, push people, dey run come meet me. Her face white, she dey cry, dey shout, but noise too much—I no hear.

Even security no fit hold am. That kain run, na only real love or real guilt dey fuel am.

I throw Chuka ring out window, tell driver make we move. As I see Ifunanya kneel for ground, I remember Chuka last words—na true. Wetin person no fit get for youth go always dey haunt am. The one you no fit get—na Tobi, but Chuka join too.

Sometimes, the real ones dey suffer pass. Na only memory go remain.