He said his late grandfather buried an important family artifact under that exact spot many years ago to preserve wealth and marital stability.
He stroked my cheek gently while explaining, saying if any wife ever saw what was hidden there, disaster would follow immediately.
I laughed nervously at first, assuming he was exaggerating or teasing me with cultural superstition meant to impress a new bride.
But his face remained serious, calm, and steady, and something about his tone discouraged further questions from forming inside my mouth.
I agreed without argument because it seemed like a small sacrifice compared to the comfort and security I had gained through marriage.
From that day forward, he personally swept our bedroom every Saturday morning without allowing the housekeepers to enter while he cleaned.
He would lock the door, move quietly inside for nearly thirty minutes, then emerge sweating slightly but smiling as if satisfied.
Whenever I asked playfully what exactly he did under there, he would kiss my forehead and remind me gently of the rule.
I stopped asking after the second month because love sometimes means choosing peace over curiosity in a new home.
Life continued beautifully on the surface, filled with dinners at expensive restaurants and weekend trips that made my friends envy me openly.
Obinna bought me jewelry often, heavy gold pieces and glittering stones that caught attention whenever I attended social gatherings.
He enjoyed showing me off publicly, holding my waist proudly and introducing me as his beautiful, obedient wife.
At night, however, he sometimes woke around midnight and stood quietly beside the bed without speaking.
I would pretend to sleep, sensing him staring downward toward the floor for long, silent minutes before lying back down carefully.
When I once asked why he stood up at that hour, he said he was praying quietly over our marriage.
I accepted that explanation because I wanted to believe I had married a spiritual and protective man.
Eight months passed without conflict, and the strange rule slowly blended into the background of our daily routine.
Yesterday morning, everything changed because of something small and ordinary that should have meant nothing at all.
Obinna left early for what he called an urgent business trip to Abuja, promising to return the following evening.
I planned to attend a friend’s bridal shower later that day, so I stood before our bedroom mirror selecting jewelry carefully.
I chose a pair of expensive diamond earrings he had given me during our fifth month anniversary celebration.
As I tried fastening one earring, it slipped from my fingers unexpectedly and bounced against the thick bedroom rug.
