CHAPTER ONE:

I transmigrated five years into the future.

That one na story for elders. As in, I just open eye and everywhere change—wetin carry me waka cross five years just like that? Some people go say na jazz, others go call am destiny. For my mind, I dey wonder if na village people hand dey inside.

I married my ex-boyfriend, who was now successful and famous.

No be small thing, o! This same Seyi wey dey always dey find small change to buy gala and pure water when we dey school, na im now dey drive latest Benz and people dey greet am for street. Area boys dey hail am, even okada men slow down to greet. From nothing to something, ehn? Lagos fit surprise person.

And I was carrying his child.

My own belle. True-true, na woman know as e dey be when spirit enter body. I just touch my belle and my heart beat gbo-gbo-gbo. My hand cold, sweat dey my back, even with AC for room. My leg weak like overcooked ewedu. Wetin I wan tell my mama now?

But he didn’t seem to like me at all.

If to say you see the way Seyi dey look me now, e be like say I steal money for him mama market. This life no balance.

I tried to cook for him, but he refused to even touch the food. "Wetin you put inside this time?"

Seyi face serious as if I wan poison am. I swear, no be only him waka come for this marriage, but na me dey carry all the wahala. Na so e be sometimes, sha.

I offered to share his bed, but he just sneered, "So you wan use my head again, abi? You dey wait make I sleep so you fit bring another woman enter my bed?"

No be only me surprise. Even I shock say person fit suspect him own wife reach that level. But I gats play along, as Naija woman wey get sense.

I suggested that the three of us should just live together well as a family.

I force my smile, but my hand dey shake small. My chest dey tight, fear dey bite me. I talk am with boldness, but Seyi face squeeze like person wey chop bitterleaf. This matter don pass my power.

He immediately acted like a wounded puppy: "You still want to use the child to disgrace me?"

Na so he talk, as if I dey carry him matter for market. Seyi get pride, but pain dey hide inside that voice.

God, abeg—this child no be his own?

My heart fly for chest. Wetin I wan do now? I just hold my head, pray make ground swallow me. This one na real wahala, no be small play.