Chapter 7: Letting Go

Tunde talk like say we dey close. But truth, I only wait for am once.

Sixth month of marriage, Tunde dey work for king, always careful. One night, he come back with burukutu smell, drunk.

He stagger enter, eyes red like pepper. I bring sobering soup, see him dey call girl name.

"Ifeoma, Ifeoma."

First time I hear that name from Tunde. As I wan leave, he grab my wrist, pull me enter im arms, hold me tight. Very tight.

Im breath hot for my neck. Tears soak my wrapper. After long time, I hear am whisper:

"I’m sorry."

Na hug wey no belong to me, apology wey no be my own. But I collect am by mistake.

I stand stiff, smell burukutu and heartbreak. Na so I begin check Miss Ifeoma matter.

Dem be childhood sweethearts, engagement since small. Tunde fear say family wahala go drag her down, so he leave her, choose me.

Whole compound sabi story, how star dey shine but people scatter am. Reason he drunk—Miss Ifeoma go hunger strike, no wan marry another.

Her stubbornness popular for community. I agree dem match well, so I nod, collect umbrella.

"All right."

Tunde no dey keep word. He talk say he go come late, but come before night reach, before I pack dowry finish.

He see room full of jewel, deeds, no look close. "Why all these things dey outside?"

"I dey clean dust." I close box, lie sharp.

Heart dey pound, voice flat. Tunde frown, no ask again. He just put one cool coral bead bracelet for my wrist—like say e go settle everything.

"Amarachi, no mind today. We grow together, the joke pass boundary. I go warn them make dem no talk am again."

Na so?

If he really care, why he no clear matter for front of all? He just dey protect Miss Ifeoma, make sure people know say na Tunde no reach her, not say Tunde no want her.

I look Tunde calm. "No stress yourself. You sharp, you sabi say if you marry Miss Ifeoma, nobody go call her old maid or laugh anyhow."

My voice soft, but chest heavy. Tunde smart, he know wetin I mean. He no cut me, because na wetin he dey wait for. He look me soft, hold my hand.

"Amarachi, you want make I marry Miss Ifeoma? You no go mind?"

His voice low, almost dey shake, like say he dey hope for my blessing. Everywhere still, like spirit dey listen. I hold my breath, knowing this answer fit scatter or heal two hearts. For this land, sometimes letting go na the only way to find peace.