Chapter 2: Birthday Blues and Shattered Glass

Three months after I marry Ifeanyi, na that time I jam Halima.

That morning clear for my head—harmattan breeze dey bite skin, but my mind far. My mother-in-law check in, dey ask if I want chin chin with zobo for the party. I try form smile, but the reason for the celebration heavy for my chest.

That day na my birthday.

For our side, birthday na big deal—especially if you marry into money. Dem want make you shine like new Ankara for December. My father-in-law bring Fuji band from Lagos, scatter everywhere.

Okafor family start prepare two weeks before—venue, small chops, wine—everything top notch.

Caterers dey run helter-skelter, decorator dey fix one giant flower arch. Coolers of jollof, fried rice, nkwobi, and asun dey line backyard, aroma dey carry neighbours come peep. My aunties corner dey gist who go marry next, dey eye me like say I get jazz.

I overhear person say, “Chief Okafor really rate this his daughter-in-law o.”

One aunty from Jos tap her neighbor: “See the gold set wey she wear? Na only true wife dem dey buy that kind thing for.”

“All the big men and women for Makurdi dey here, abi?”

Na so e be.

House compound full. Range Rovers, big boys, slay queens everywhere. Small pikin dey run about with gala, elders dey parlor with pepper soup.

But even with all that, wahala still show.

No matter how you plan, Naija party always get small chaos. This one, e come with style nobody expect.

The chandelier above just crash down.

The sound na thunder—gbam! For split second, everywhere quiet—then wahala bust. Women scream, men rush with mouth open. My heart fly, sweat burst for my face, even with AC.

At that moment, only me and one waiter dey under am.

Na God hand dey there. Just me and that small, dark-skinned girl with tray of small chops, stand like say na film scene.

Everywhere scatter. I wan dodge, but I see Ifeanyi force through crowd, dey rush.

I see my husband push people left and right, voice dey loud, “Clear road! Clear road!” For my mind, ‘E don finally show say he care?’

But he no come meet me. He pass me, go shield the waiter instead.

My heart fall. He no even look my side. He stretch hand, push that girl down, body cover am. Na so.

My arm collect cut, but the waiter safe inside Ifeanyi’s arms.

My dress tear, blood drip, but nobody look my side. Even my mama-in-law dey call doctor, hand for head. I look the girl—Halima. Her face white, but pride full her eyes.

I never feel that kind shame before.

Na the kind shame wey burn you from inside, especially as dem dey look you, Okafor wife, like extra for your own party. My chest tight, I no fit cry.

But sharp-sharp, Ifeanyi compose. He leave the person for him arms, come carry me go hospital.

He act like nothing happen. “Abeg, make una clear road!” Carry me gentle, no let my leg touch ground. Voice cool, but mind dey far.

Nobody talk about what happen again.

By next day, gist don change. Some say na witch try spoil Okafor party, others say bad belle. The real thing, na only me, Ifeanyi, and Halima know.

When I wake, Ifeanyi dey hospital window, dey talk phone.

He no see me, just dey look outside, phone for ear, voice low like pesin dey beg spirit.

He say, “You no suppose come today. If anything touch you, wetin I go tell myself?”

Voice shake small, like the person for phone na him oxygen. You go know say na woman he dey protect.

“I go divorce her soon. Just wait for me, abeg.”

My belle twist. So na true—he get another person for heart. The thing pain me like hot pepper for wound, but my face blank.

Just those two sentences.

I understand sharp—the waiter na Halima.

Sharp babe. No need prophet. The way he dey look her, the way her eye dey follow am. I just lie down, swallow the truth.

The girl wey he wan marry but no fit.

This one no be Nollywood. Na real life, where poor girl fit catch rich man heart and he go ready fight family. Ifeanyi own different—he dey hide am, but the thing still show.

He turn, see say I don wake, breathe out relief.

The way him chest drop, I know say my injury still dey worry am, but Halima own dey his mind more. Shoulders relax, he drop phone sharp.

I try smile, but e no gree come out.

Lips move, but eye betray me. Fake smile. I know am, he know am.

He waka come, eyebrow raise. “You don wake?”

Voice soft pass usual, but still get that gap, like wall dey between us.

I say yes.

Even my yes weak, but I force am, like pesin wey dey fight malaria. I try act strong.

Three months of marriage, we dey respect each other, but apart from marriage certificate night, we hardly talk.

People think say money solve everything, but cold marriage dey freeze person pass harmattan. Even for bed, we be tenants.

Now, silence just heavy.

Air thick, if you cut am, e go bleed. We both know say nothing dey normal here.

After long pause, he say, “You no go ask me for explanation?”

Voice be like say he dey test my patience, or wan make I provoke so he fit feel less guilty. I just look am, eye steady.

I reply say no need; I sabi who the person be.

I say am calm, like say na weather. Inside, my heart dey do gbim gbim, but face no show am.

He chuckle quietly. “You still sharp like school days.”

That small laugh wey dey cover pain. For brief moment, I almost remember the boy I know before family and money put wall between us.