Chapter 2: Doubt and Decision

My father repeated the question, urging me to decide.

His deep voice echoed off the ancient walls. The Oba’s staff tapped gently on the floor, reminding me that tradition and the spirits were watching, waiting for my answer.

Both men knelt quietly, while the words in the air kept arguing, contradicting themselves.

A flicker of amusement flashed across Ifedike’s face; Sulaiman’s jaw clenched, betraying nerves he rarely showed. My cousins craned their necks from the women’s balcony, already preparing gossip for later.

"If Sulaiman become husband, na finish be that. Him no go fit chase him dreams, him no fit gist with him own babe—depression go finish am."

Someone in the back tried to stifle a laugh, but Chief Akande’s hard stare silenced them. I saw the truth: Sulaiman, always in his books and lost in dreams, never loved palace protocol.

"Na real wahala. If Sulaiman no become husband, him and Aisha fit be soulmates, live happily together. How e go sweet."

Aisha. The name rang in my head, like the market bell at closing time. I remembered Sulaiman watching her, soft-eyed, when she brought her mother’s groundnut soup.

"Ifedike dey do well for battlefield as killing lion. Why you wan drag am enter palace wahala? Once royal family hold am, na to behave."

The guards always told stories: Ifedike, the lion of the border, never lost a fight, always first for hard missions. Some said Ogun blessed him, but to me, he was the quiet boy who once shared roasted maize with me under the mango tree.

"Ifedike no want am? Na lie. The guy even dey wash princess childhood wrappers till dem white. See our young general—service dey him blood, e really dey try."

My cheeks burned. I tried not to remember the day Ifedike carried my soiled wrappers to the washing line, face red as pepper. Mama laughed, calling him a boy with a future.

"Whether na black or white, you go still talk say na yellow, abi?"

Even the spirits were arguing in circles. My head spun, like when elders talk over each other at family meetings.

"Ifedike fans, abeg calm down. For her mind, Ifedike just be stranger."

But was he really a stranger? I remembered how, even in a crowd, his eyes always found mine.

"When the princess go realize say Sulaiman no want be her husband, him no even like her? Her love for Sulaiman go just dey disturb am."

That line pierced my heart like a needle.

The breeze stopped. My throat dried up, heart squeezing as if a spirit gripped it.

Na Sulaiman I like, but e be like say my feelings just dey disturb am.

The air felt heavy with unspoken truths. My mind flashed to childhood—laughter, kunu, Sulaiman’s shy smiles.

The argument in the air wouldn’t stop. I looked at both men. Even kneeling, their backs were straight, each proud in his own way.

Their shadows stretched long in the candlelight, taller than the Oba’s. Each man a world of his own, waiting on my word.

My father picked well from all the noble men. He loved me, chose the best, even if I didn’t agree.

He once told me how he too chose between duty and desire. I wondered if he saw himself in my hesitation.

Me, I never even reason am deep before.

I always thought things would just fall into place. Today, tradition pressed down, and I saw how much my happiness mattered to everyone.

To grow old with Sulaiman was something I always assumed since childhood.

We ran barefoot in palace gardens, climbed iroko trees, chased fireflies at dusk. I thought the future would always look like that.

But all these voices in the air made me start to doubt.

They grew louder, like a market on new yam festival. My confidence shook, dreams clashing with reality.

"Zainab, you don decide?"

My father’s tone was patient but insistent, his voice reminding me indecision was still a choice.

I looked at him. His eyes were serious but gentle. Whatever I chose, he would support me.

His gaze softened, lips curved in reassurance. I felt my late mother’s silent support, as if she too urged me to be brave.

I raised my hand, followed my heart, and started to point toward Sulaiman.

A hush fell. My heart pounded as I reached for what I thought I always wanted, not knowing the pain my choice would bring.