Chapter 8: The Choice

"E don do!" I shout.

My voice loud, e cut everywhere. Music stop, crowd freeze. Na my anger show full ground.

Everybody look me, everywhere quiet.

Some dey eye me, some dey pity. For their mind, na mad man I be. But my own don pass patience.

"Sade, e don do! Which kind Nollywood drama you dey act? If you no happy for this marriage, make we divorce. I gree. We no get pikin, money clear. We fit go registry now—you go still come back chop."

I vex no be small.

My chest dey drum, my voice shake. For Naija, if marriage no dey sweet, make everybody waka. Na so I yarn am.

Till now, I no understand how we reach this kind wahala.

I dey replay night for my head. From reunion, to phone, to Bayo drama. E be like movie. I dey ask God why.

That Easter period, we just come back from work. Sade say her old classmates dey do reunion, say make I follow.

She beg me, I gree. I think say na just eat, laugh, come back home. I no know say na drama dem plan.

I love her. I gree come, do husband duty.

I wear fine cloth, even buy wine. I try blend, make she feel proud.

But see as e end—her first love show, she turn another person.

As Bayo enter, na so Sade spirit change. E pain me say love dey expire for my front.

"Why? Why you dey treat me like this?" she ask.

Her voice soft, but pain full am. Everybody dey look us. Some dey record, some dey whisper.

I no fit talk.

My throat dry. My pride dey fight my heart. I dey speechless, tears dey push my eye.

She don go meet her first love, na me wrong to talk divorce?

My mind dey ask, "Na me dey wrong? Na who fall hand for this matter?"

"Wetin I do reach like this?" she push.

Her hand dey shake, she dey vex. She dey wait my answer. The air heavy, e get weight.

"Sade, let me ask you: you still want this marriage? If yes, follow me go house now, make we carry mama go hospital. If no, make we divorce. You fit stay here with am, I go take care of mama myself."

My voice calm, but pain dey inside. For Naija, when man drop this kain line, e mean am. If you choose your clique over family, na your wahala. I face her, my eye no blink, I dey ready. Na for her hand the matter dey now.

The whole room hold breath. My heart no fit rest. Wetin Sade go choose—me or the past?