Chapter 4: Inside the General’s House

When I open my eyes again, I dey lie down for Musa’s room. Four years of marriage, I never enter here before.

The room dey fine—silk everywhere, one big bed with carvings wey resemble old Benin style. The air get smell of perfume and old books. My leg dey heavy, but I feel as if I dey inside stranger house.

For the door, I hear woman dey cry.

"If I know say e go end like this, I for no let Madam go find medicine for me. That day, Madam insist say she wan chop the jam wey I make, so I dey kitchen all day."

"If to say I fit go find the medicine by myself, Madam for no..."

Na real Naija house, wahala nor dey ever finish. Sorrow dey mix with blame, everybody dey find who to hold responsible. I hear the pain for her voice, e touch my soul small.

"No talk like that, no be your fault."

Musa voice cold, but this time e soft small.

For Musa mouth, sorry dey hard to come out, but when e do, e heavy. E dey try balance between duty and feeling. I sabi am.

"Na my fault. I be criminal pikin, my life no get value. If I die, e no matter..."

Halima voice weak, like candle wey dey finish. For this life, people dey always carry another person wahala for head. As she dey talk, I dey feel am for my chest.

"Abeg, no dey talk that kind thing. I no go allow am."

For Naija, we dey always encourage each other—even when wahala choke. Musa voice steady, like elder wey dey beg spirit make e calm.

I don hear enough, I just push the door open.

The old door make kpa-kpa sound, and silence swallow the room. Even Zainab, wey dey hide for corner, stop to breathe.

"Ma-Madam... you..."

Halima, tears full her face, dey lean for my husband body, dey look me like say she see ghost. Musa sef look surprise, he no even know wetin to do for a moment.

The air thick, as if rain wan fall inside house. All eyes dey on me, but I just bone face, waka inside.

So, while my own inside dey scatter, na so outside dey be.

For my mind, storm dey brew, but I just dey manage small smile. Na so life be—sometimes you dey shine for outside, inside you dey sink.

System talk say the wound no go pain me, so why my chest still dey tight like say stone dey press am?

Na heart pain be this one. No be knife wound fit heal am. I just draw deep breath, hope say I no go break down for front of people.

I waka pass them, call, "Zainab."

The small maid rush enter, nearly fall, but her face show say she happy to see me pass those two.

Na so Zainab dey. Loyal from day one, always sharp, always dey protect me. I give her small nod—our own secret way of talking.

"Abeg, bring me tea."

Tea for this kind moment na code. Everybody sabi say I no really want tea, but I just need excuse to clear my head. Na so we dey dodge wahala for family house.

Musa, for reasons best known to am, just grab me suddenly.

The grip shock me. For Naija man, to touch woman for public, e get as e be. This one carry desperation, pain, and small fear join.

"You never die? Your wound..."

His eyes dey search my own, like person wey dey fear juju. E be like say e dey find another explanation for my survival. For his mind, e dey confuse.

I freeze for half-second, mind flash: 'Na so he dey touch Halima too?' Then I shake off his hand.

"Yes, I still dey. No be as you want am. I just no die."

Voice flat, no energy. But na truth—I dey, but I no dey. Half spirit, half person.

I still see the powder mark wey Halima mistakenly rub for his chest. My mind dey bite me—wetin woman no go see for marriage? I shift back. Who go believe say the man wey no dey like touch me before, now hold my wrist tight.

The jealousy wey dey my heart na like dry pepper for soup—small but hot. My eyes just dey follow every move. But I just bone, shift body small, no wan make matter worse.

"I dey worry about you. Why you dey talk like this?"

His voice tremble, like say e dey fight with himself. I fit see say e dey try, but heart no dey let am rest.

I struggle, I no want make him touch me at all.

"Madam no vex, nothing dey between me and the general. Na just worry I dey worry for you. Madam, abeg no fight with the general because of me."

Halima voice crack, but her eyes dey beg. I fit see say she fear wahala. For this kind house, small thing fit turn big.

"Miss Halima, abeg, no overthink am. Na true, I just dey thirsty," I cut her off.

No time for drama. I just use gentle voice, make everybody rest. No need to add fuel to fire.

She wan talk more, but Musa wave hand. He just carry me from waist, take me straight to bedroom. As he drop me for bed, he start to untie my clothes without talking.

E shock me. For Naija man to carry woman like that, e mean say matter don serious. I stiffen, dey watch as e dey struggle with my wrapper.

"Wetin you dey do?"

"No move. Make I check your wound."

His hand dey cold, but e gentle. Na rare thing for soldier hand. For my mind, I dey wonder if na guilt or love dey move am.

As we dey drag, I hear noise outside.

"Miss Halima, Miss Halima, wetin happen?"

Musa body just tense, he turn look back with worry.

That worry show for him face like say na im pikin dey cry. My own pain dey my chest, but I still understand say human being heart dey big, e fit carry many things at once.

"I dey okay, General. Go check Miss Halima. Her body no too strong."

I force small smile, use the voice wey people dey use talk for burial—calm but heavy. For once, I just wan make everybody rest.

Before, na me dey always jealous of Halima, but now as I dey act like say I understand, even Musa shock. He awkwardly tap my head.

That small tap na apology, Naija style. E dey try use action talk wetin mouth no fit say. I feel small pity for am, but I still bone.

"No vex again. I go call doctor make e check you."

His words come out like promise, but I no trust am. This kind matter, only time fit heal am.

I smile and nod. But as he close the door, I just use curtain wipe the place for my hair wey he touch.

That touch dey burn me. As e go out, I just whisper, "God abeg, no let this pain long." The air for room thick, but my mind dey light small—at least I dey alive.