Chapter 1: Wedding Night Wahala

On our wedding night, as the usual bridal room wahala dey go on, Morenike’s childhood friend, Kunle, just burst enter our room like say na him own am.

My body shock—no be small! Even my best man, Tolu, give me that 'wetin be this one again' look. For Naija wedding, playful noise dey normal, but this kain barging, I just dey suspect say real gbege dey brew.

Instead make Kunle respect himself, he siddon for our wedding bed, wrap arm around my wife waist in front of everybody, begin yarn nonsense wey dey provoke.

People wey pack for the room start dey whisper—some dey giggle, some dey shake head. One auntie, voice low, say, “This one pass play o.” My inside dey boil, but I dey try form cool. For my mind, I dey pray make Morenike handle am before gist turn proper fight.

"Morenike dey marry for the first time. As her big brother, I must test the bed," Kunle run mouth.

Everybody burst laugh, but the laughter bend. Na only Kunle dey catch cruise. One uncle from village clear throat, “This one don overdo, abeg.”

I think say na just one over-sabi guy wey no get boundary. Na later I come hear say, the night before wedding, Morenike and this same Kunle fight—right on top my wedding bed. The anger wey catch me, e heavy. Divorce enter my mind. But my ex-mother-in-law no just refuse to return bride price of two hundred thousand naira, she even talk say her daughter don dey sleep with me for three years so I must pay another one million as compensation.

The pain hold me for throat. I remember the elders wey gather settle matter, quoting proverbs: "When chicken cross road for afternoon, e get reason." But my own na like say I waka enter lion mouth. Still, for our side, woman no cheap, bride price matter dey cause serious wahala. But as Kunle words hang for air, everybody know—wahala never finish.