Chapter 2: Trending Wahala

As I enter car, I on my phone.

The inside of the car cold, AC dey blow, but I no even feel am. I press phone, eyes heavy like cement.

By that time, friends don dey message me:

[“Ah ah, why you dey trend? You know say the babe beside your fiancé na influencer?”]

[“You dey alright so? Dem send me your pictures. How Kamsiyochukwu go carry babe flaunt for your front—na wa!”]

[“That influencer dey always boast for livestream say man dey buy her everything... so na Kamsiyochukwu.”]

[“I no believe am! Kamsiyochukwu before no dey near woman, now e dey keep one small influencer?”]

The messages dey fly in like harmattan breeze. I reply everybody, then enter trending topic.

Pictures and videos clear, show me and Kamsiyochukwu dey drag each other. The video get sound sef. One girl for background dey shout, “See love triangle! Na real-life telenovela!” My head just dey knock.

All the comments dey support the influencer:

[“I know say this woman no want make our Kamsi happy—she still dey try snatch her boyfriend.”]

[“You no see as the guy treat am? E dey harsh for this one, but dey pet Kamsi’s babe.”]

[“This woman just dey waka follow, dey look them after dem go, dey form deep and emotional?”]

[“See as you dey do ashewo for another person man—carry your wahala go.”]

People dey judge me from picture and thirty-second video. Nobody care to hear my own side. Internet people get mind.

So my fiancé don turn another person boyfriend. For my mind, na thunder strike. E pain me for chest. The betrayal sting like scorpion.

I slump for back seat, eyes blank. Na that kain pain wey no get name. My hands cold, I dey look dashboard, no even see anything.

That trending topic just dey climb. Kamsiyochukwu fit buy trending spot for internet, but e no fit buy peace of mind. I shake head. My heart dey tangle like generator wire.

Na so he like me, as people dey talk for comments? I remember that rainy night suya, him laugh, “Na you I want, Amarachi.” Now, e dey use money trend another woman.

Na so love be—make internet dey twist story, dey insult me anyhow? For Naija, love get wahala. People go turn you to gist without knowing your pain.

I close eye, pain just full my chest. I breathe deep, tears wan commot but I hold am. Phone vibrate again—notifications everywhere.

After long, I call: “Abeg, pull down that trending topic. Fast.”

My voice no loud, just tired. For my mind, I dey beg make this wahala end.

The comments still dey hot:

[“My heart dey pain for sis. If only she soft small, things for no reach like this...”]

[“All these mumu netizens just dey follow crowd. Kamsi na the real wahala—e dey pain me!”]

[“Crown Prince no try, but sis too dey form hard. Him just want make she dey depend on am, make she no fit do without am.”]

[“This trending topic hard to kill—somebody don open hate account, people for Amarachi Group don see am, e go affect shares.”]

My eye just stay for that last comment. My heart skip. For this country, business and reputation na twins. Once gist enter market, e dey affect everything.

True true, my phone ring. The person for the other end just sound tired: “Somebody dey buy trending spot steady. We dey try remove am, but e no dey work.”

He dey whisper, as if e fear make person hear. Voice low, full of frustration. “Madam, we dey try our best.”

I no answer. The person sigh. “You offend person? Trending topic just dey climb—dem dey drop big money. No be your fiancé suppose remove am? E just dey look?”

If I talk, my voice fit break. For my mind, na answer I dey find. Because na my fiancé dey buy the trending spot.

But... soon, he no go be my fiancé again.

As I talk am for my mind, I feel small relief. Freedom dey come, even if na storm dey blow first.

My papa call next, voice loud: “Amarachi, wetin dey happen? If nobody tell me, I for no even know!”

Na real Igbo papa tone. No greeting, straight to the point. My ear almost block. I clutch phone with both hands, kneel instinctively—old habit of respect and tension.

I try calm myself. “Kamsiyochukwu cheat. Na my fault too?”

I dey try reason with am. My voice soft, but I no dey beg.

“Men dey cheat, but how you go let am cast, let the babe dey show for your front!” my papa shout.

For his mind, na shame to family be the real wahala. For my own mind, na betrayal I dey swallow.

I explain gently, “Na Kamsiyochukwu buy the trending topic. Na him babe. Daddy, no concern me. I dey try remove am.”

I dey explain like person wey dey beg headmaster for school. My papa just hiss, “If you no fit hold man heart, na your fault.”

His words sting. For Igbo man, na pride matter pass. He just cut the call.

The call drop, I just dey look phone. Even the ringtone tire me.

Car stop. Driver turn, talk, “Madam Amarachi, we don reach villa.”

The driver voice gentle, him eyes full of pity. I just nod, open door, waka enter the dark villa like ghost.

The corridor cold, everywhere silent. My heels echo, my shadow long for wall. Na so loneliness dey be, when wahala full house.

My papa talk like say e get sense. Back then, when he dey carry woman, e blame my mama say she old, no fine again. E forget na her money he use start business, na she suffer for am.

I remember my mama eyes the night she pack commot. Tears, but she still strong. Woman for this life dey suffer and still dey carry family for head.