“Then let it take time. Nobody is chasing you here.” That line did something to her. Nobody is chasing you here. Chika closed her eyes. For the first time in a long while, she felt a little safe. Beside her, Obinna stayed still. Though he was deeply aware of her closeness, her soft voice, and the quiet beauty she carried even in sadness, he kept every restless part of himself under control.
He wanted her, yes. Any man with blood in his body would notice her. But more than that, he wanted her trust. That mattered more. After a while, Chika spoke again. “Are you always like this?” “Like what?” “Calm.” He laughed softly. “Not always.” “It feels like nothing can shake you.” “That’s not true,” he said.
“Some things shake me.” She opened her eyes slightly. “Like what?” He was quiet for a moment. “Things that concern the people I love.” That answer stayed with her. She did not reply, but something in her softened again. Not all at once. Not fully. But enough for her to stop feeling like he was a stranger at the far end of the bed.
By the time sleep came, the room no longer felt tense. It felt warm, safe. While Chica was falling asleep in that simple room, Kemi was stepping into her new life in the city with her head high. Her wedding to Tunde Bello had been done in style. There were lights, expensive clothes, loud smiles, and enough public display to impress people.
Kemi had enjoyed every second of it. As far as she was concerned, she had won. She was now Mrs. Bello. She had the rich husband, the rich family, the rich name. That alone made her feel she had defeated Chica once again. When she entered the Bello family house, she expected admiration. She expected to be welcomed like a queen.
She expected warmth dressed in luxury. What she met instead was coldness hidden behind polished faces. Tunde Bello was handsome enough and well-dressed, but there was no softness in him. Even on the wedding day, he had been more concerned about appearances than about her. He smiled when people were looking.
He touched her when cameras were near. But once they were alone, something in him became distant. His mother, Mrs. Bello, was even worse. She was elegant, proud, and sharp-eyed. Every smile she gave Kemi looked practiced. Every kind word sounded measured. She acted warm, but her eyes were always calculating. The house itself was beautiful, yes, but the air inside it was not peaceful.
Servants moved carefully. Conversations lowered when Kemi entered. People smiled too quickly and meant too little. By the second day, Kemi already started noticing cracks. Bills were being discussed in hushed voices. One staff member was dismissed after speaking too freely on the phone. Tunde kept getting tense calls he did not explain.
His mother kept asking indirect questions about the Obiara family property, land documents, and available funds. Kemi was not foolish. She quickly understood that something was wrong. One evening, she confronted Tunde in their room. “You said everything was fine,” she said. “Why does your mother keep asking about my father’s assets?” Tunde, who was loosening his tie, barely looked at her.
“She’s only trying to understand the family she married into.” Kemi narrowed her eyes. “Don’t play with me.” He turned then, but there was irritation in his face, not love. “No one is playing with you.” Kemi folded her arms. “Then why does it feel like everyone in this house is pretending?” Tunde gave a short laugh.
“Because everyone is pretending.” That answer hit her harder than she expected. She stared at him. He walked to the small bar in the room, poured himself a drink, and took a slow sip. “You wanted this life badly,” he said. “Now you have it.” Kemi did not like his tone. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means exactly what it sounds like.
” She stepped closer. “Are you saying you didn’t want this marriage?” Tunde looked at her over the glass. “I’m saying marriage is not always about love.” Kemi’s face changed. For the first time, the truth stood before her without decoration. This marriage was a transaction, status for status, need for need, and somewhere inside all of it was greed.
Downstairs, Mrs. Bello was no better. She treated workers with cold superiority, and Kemi fit into that environment easily. She insulted a maid for bringing her tea late. She complained about the accent of one driver. She mocked one cleaner’s shoes and said some people should never be allowed inside beautiful houses.
Instead of correcting her, Mrs. Bello encouraged it in small ways. The family might be sinking, but they still liked acting above others, and Kemi liked joining them. Still, the admiration she expected never came. Nobody in that house truly respected her. They only watched her, measured her, waited to see what she could bring.
By the end of her first few days, Kemi began to understand that money alone did not make a home warm. The Bello family had style, but not peace. They had class, but not kindness. They had expensive things, but their hearts were dry. And Tunde, the man she had fought so hard to marry, was not gentle at all. He was not cruel in the loud way.
He was worse. He was cold. When she spoke, he listened only halfway. When she complained, he brushed it aside. When she tried to draw close, he responded only when it suited him. There was no tenderness in him, no patience, no real care. That marriage had entered trouble before it had even settled. But Kemi was too proud to admit it.
So she kept dressing well, kept speaking sharply, kept carrying wealth like a weapon. If the house was fake, she would be fake with them, too. If love was missing, she would replace it with pride. Still, late at night, when the house went quiet, and Tunde turned his back to her in bed, one thought began to trouble her.
What if her father had been right? And far away from the city, in a small room with a simple bed and one pillow placed between two careful bodies, Chica slept more peacefully than Kemi expected possible. The days that followed were quiet, but that peace did not last. About a week later, news came that Tunde and Kemi would be coming to the ancestral village for his maternal grandfather’s 1-year remembrance.
