Chapter 4: Hibiscus and Fresh Start

Tolu commot with him people.

Their laughter float back, harsh and fake. Cars rev, tyre make noise for gravel. The silence wey follow heavy.

The sound of car engine loud for night.

I stand for window, dey look taillight dey go. Engine echo still dey my ear, like stubborn headache.

Uncle Musa just shake head. “Madam, why you go provoke oga again? You know say he dey hold things for mind.”

Him voice gentle, eye tired. He watch me grow from small girl reach here. He wan help, but nothing he fit do.

I pick ring for ground, throw am inside dustbin.

The ring land with dull sound among empty bottle and old flower. Final—chapter close.

“Uncle Musa, abeg, do your work. No worry for me.”

I force smile for am. He nod, lips tight.

Uncle Musa sigh, waka go.

Him leg slow, like person wey no want waka finish. I watch am go, my chest heavy with gratitude.

I go upstairs alone, change from that heavy dress.

Lace peel off, only skin and memory remain. I wash face, scrub powder and tears. Mirror dey show stranger—eye old pass my age.

I wear white T-shirt, carry box, pack only clothes wey really be my own.

My box small—just jeans, blouse, one wrapper, mama scarf. Everything else belong to Ajayi family.

Other people, when dem fight for marriage, dem go still talk divorce agreement.

Their lawyer go argue, share property, sign paper. Here, na just shame and silence.

But me and Tolu, our own na just two rings.

No court, no lawyer, just gold band and unspoken pain.

Nobody go believe say the wedding wey shake the whole Ibadan that time—the bride and groom no even get marriage certificate.

People see aso-ebi, canopy, party food wey feed half town. Nobody know paper no dey, signature never happen.

I still remember wetin Tolu talk that day.

E word sharp like blade: "For my family paper, only Bisi name fit dey. Funmi, you no suppose marry me."

He talk am like final. My chest dey pain as I remember.

But wetin I fit do?

I don fall finish before I know say ground no soft. My love for am stubborn, the kind wey no hear word.

I still marry am—the man wey I love for seven years, since I be small girl.

Seven years of sneak look, shy smile, secret hope. Even as he keep me far, I dey wait, believe say love go win last.

I think say one day, I go touch him heart.

Every prayer, every small kindness—I think one day, he go see me, really see me. But him heart be like room wey key don loss with Bisi.

But at last, I just become Madam Ajayi by name, as everybody talk.

Na only title, empty chair for table. I wear am like cloth wey no fit, hope say e go settle. E no settle.

I drag my box, the whole house quiet.

Silence loud, dey press my ear. Only clock tick and generator hum. I pause for stairs, let memory wash me.

Just like that rainy night when Mama Ajayi carry me come here.

Rain dey beat, her hand warm, voice soft. She hold my shaking hand, promise me safety.

Thirteen-year-old Tolu stand for stairs, cold eye dey look me.

He size me, hand fold, lips tight. Even then, he far from me.

But later, he waka go kitchen.

Footstep soft, as if e no want make I hear.

He bring me one cup warm Milo.

He give me, no talk, just waka go. I drink am, the sweet dey make my tears rush more. That na the only kindness wey I get from am.