Chapter Three

After the baby shower ended, as guests were leaving Ajìkè Dikko held my elbow firmly and walked with me to a small living room upstairs. 

"Sit." I did. I sat on a single jet black sofa facing her own love seat. 

"How are you doing, your eyes have looked so sad and tired all afternoon?" I realised that she must have watched me all afternoon to come to that realisation. A very right conclusion. I decide to answer her. 

"I've just had a lot weighing on my mind, a lot has been going on in my little life lately." I try to skim events to see if she'd stop prying. She eyes me amusedly, like a mother looking at her lying child.

"Afrah, Allah would not give a soul more burden than it can bear, but sometimes the pain becomes too much to bear alone and we must share our burden with someone or we'll be giving room for evil thoughts." I regard her slowly for a few seconds, her legs are curled underneath her abaya neatly. Her hennaed fingers are jewelled with a single platinum ring with a princess cut diamond resting on it. 

"My parents have chosen someone for me to marry again. It's so evident that they have never cared about me, every time, they want to use me as a business venture and I've let them succeed each time."I can't believe myself, I can't believe the sort of attitude I've displayed. 

Sometimes. I wish I could stand to for myself more, speak up for myself more. My life will be more easier. 

"Did you accept? "

I raise my eyes again and play with my henna tattooed fingers. 

"Yes"

She inhales heavily and comes over to the sofa where I'm seating. She holds my hands and as she's about to speak we hear footsteps bounding up the stairs. Her husband is back. 

I pick my discarded veil and wrap it around my head and watch them with unveiled interest. I love love, but I don't think it's for everyone. 

He smiles and pats her head, checks her temperature with his hands and cups her belly. They have completely forgotten they have an audience, lost in themselves. 

I carefully slip away to the kitchen where Khadijah Dikko and her elder sister are talking. Talking about my former sister in law. She was at the baby shower earlier and brought the most expensive and the most useless gift. 

Diamond studded baby rings. 

Like who does that, you have no idea what sex the baby is going to be and you are wasting money that you could use to feed a hundred children for a month. Husband number 1's family are known to be extra and extravagant with their gifts. 

I tune Khadijah and her sister back in. 

" I heard, she gave that gift because of the contract Hamma Muad'h gave her brother's company. If they've spent so much on diamond rings, how much is remaining from the contract advance?"

She hissed in anger and then smiles mischievously

"I just love how Ya Ajike answered her. She didn't make her feel over important because of her gifts. Who wants diamond nonsense sef" 

I forget myself and laugh out loud, they look at me and laugh harder. After we spent ourselves laughing, Khadijah motioned for me to draw closer, I did and she asked with a mischievous smile playing on her fair face. 

" Are they up there together?" 

I guessed the 'they ' were her sister in law and her brother. I smile and nod with an equally mischievous smile. The bond that this family shares is amazing. 

Khadijah's elder sister who had introduced herself as Maryam bade us goodbye and walked out. My phone pinged with a message, the cab I'd ordered had arrived. I waved gaily at Khadijah and walked to the gate, and as I wanted to open up. A car horn sounded and the gateman opened up for the car. I stood aside to let the car pass and sit drove past me. My heart skipped a beat at the person in it. 

Adeel Baba Hassan. 

I weakly slow walked to the cab that was idling on the side of the Dikko mansion. I slapped my cheeks slightly to ensure that I wasn't dreaming. Words fail me, I feel so suffocated. 

As the driver passed Yoguberry I stopped him from going further. I need to clear my head, I need to think about this one more time. I paid the cab driver absentmindedly and walked into Yoguberry , I couldn't even acknowledge the door man's greeting. 

Very unlike me. 

I sat in the chair after collecting my usual order. Plain white yoghurt and sliced pineapples. I swallowed absentmindedly. 

What if he's like Husband number 1, what if he sees me as a business venture that he can treat like a mop, what if he beats me like husband number 1 used to do. What if he is a rapist. Ya Ilahi,  

My mind goes back to when Husband no 1 had flogged me just before we had to go to a party in Maitama. His belt buckle had hit my face, he had never hit my face or arms before. 

Never ever.

Then I had to cover it up with makeup, I'd taught myself makeup as a distraction and it proved handy that night. I was able to conceal all traces of bruises on my face. 

When we walked into the party that night, women were jealous of me being on his arm, women who had always wanted him. At that time, I just wanted to scream TAKE him.

I had no use for his beating ass anyways. 

But, someone had noticed that night. The owner of Belle, a French makeup corporation looking for business in Nigeria. He had seen through my facade and the wide smiles I'd given everyone. He offered me a business deal and husband number 1 accepted it. 

But, I paid the consequences when I got home. I was beaten like a child who stole from the meat pot. I was flogged like a goat. He accused me of seducing the French man and that the beating was to get the seducing spirit out of me. That night, I began seeking avenues of leaving. I began exploring avenues of getting out of that hell hole. 

I look up to the chair in front of me being scraped against the tiled floor. The girl who scraped the chair could not be a day over sixteen, button nose, rosebud lips and tastefully dressed. I prayed for her at that moment to never meet the wrong man. 

I disposed off my empty cup as I walked out of the creamery. I looked at my phone again, another cab was waiting. I quickly sat and he drove away. 

As we drive, I pray I don't meet mother in the living room as I'm going home earlier than usual today.

The cab driver hooted his horn softly to remind me we had reached. I smiled at him, paid and walked inside. 

Unluckily, I met mother on the same sofa she was sitting on the last time we talked. And from her stance, I sense she's waiting for me. 

"Ina kwana" Good evening 

She eyes me stonily. Another Talk to Nabeela day.