Chapter 3: The Breaking Point

That night.

I no sleep. The AC dey blow, but my body dey hot. I call Kamsiyochukwu. He pick almost immediately.

“Wetin happen?” Him voice lazy. For background, I fit hear faint music, generator hum, laughter. E be like say people still dey with am. My hand dey shake.

“Stop to dey buy trending topic,” I talk low. Voice small, as if I dey whisper to myself, hoping he go understand without wahala.

He pause, voice come soft. “Why you dey dull? You dey sad?”

His voice change small, as if concern dey inside. But I no gree fall for am.

“Wetin you want?” My voice break, I no fit hold am. Tears hang for my throat, heart heavy. E no answer.

I choke, “You dey watch me dey disgrace, dey call me homewrecker, Amarachi Group shares dey fall—e dey sweet you?”

My voice shake, tears finally commot, cold for my cheek. For this kind life, na woman dey carry all the blame.

As I dey talk, my body just dey shake. The phone almost fall from my hand. I squeeze pillow, try hold myself.

How person fit wicked reach this level? My mind dey turn. Pain dey bite my chest, as if snake dey twist for inside.

After small time, Kamsiyochukwu talk slow: “No cry, babe. You wan see me? I fit come now.”

Voice drop, soft like foam, but I no gree. The world fit break, I no go let am see my tears live.

I open mouth, no word come out. Words choke for my throat, breath short, silence long.

I stand for balcony, night breeze blow my tears cold. Smell of dust and distant fried akara dey float from street below. The moon no bright, sky dark. For this city, only the streetlight dey blink for far place. I just dey feel like mumu.

The pain inside no be small thing. For this Naija, people go tell you, "Woman, hide your weakness," but tonight, my strength dey fail me.

At the end, I just manage: “No.” The word small, but e heavy pass cement. Palm dey sweat, phone dey tremble.

Kamsiyochukwu repeat, like e no sure: “No?” He no believe say I go refuse am. Voice carry shock, but I no send.

“Wetin you mean, Amarachi?” Him voice turn sharp, like say e wan bite person. I no answer, just dey look outside.

“I no wan see you.” I gather last strength, cut the call.

As I press end, my heart rest small. I feel weak, but relief still hide for corner.

I lie for bed, eyes open, sleep no come. The room dark, only my breath dey loud. The clock tick, but my mind no rest.

Trending topic still dey top chart. Phone dey vibrate. Family people dey tag me for group chat, all dey blame me.

Everybody get opinion, but nobody ask how I dey feel. For this country, woman wey no gree suffer go always collect blame.

Until one small cousin send: [“No lie, if you no fit hold Kamsi, no block road. You know the wahala you dey cause?”]

Her message sharp like knife. She drop am, then run. For my mind, I dey imagine her dey laugh for kitchen, dey gist her mama.

As one person start, others join.

One guy cousin drop facepalm emoji: [“Na shame, make side babe dey ride you. If na me, I no go fit waka for street.”]

[“Kamsi dey spend all him money for that influencer—he ever buy anything for you, cousin?”]

[“How about make we just swap engagement? Since Kamsi no like you.”]

People no get filter. As if na biscuit we dey share.

After that last message, everywhere quiet. Na that kain silence wey dey follow thunderstorm. My eyes dey hot, but I force laugh. I just laugh bitterly.

My laughter empty. For my mind, na only me dey inside this canoe. If water leak, na me go swim. If to say swapping people easy like that.

But Amarachi Group still dey my papa hand, and na only me be him pikin. Family business na big chain for neck. Everybody dey find their own advantage. My papa go do anything to keep status. He go even serve them pounded yam for midnight if e go make business grow. Na so life be.

I mute group chat, scroll WhatsApp status. I dey look for peace, but wahala still find me. First post na group picture from one rich kid.

For centre... Na Kamsiyochukwu and Song Ling. Their pose strong. Kamsiyochukwu hand dey Song Ling waist, eyebrow up, dey look camera. The way he hold her tight, e no even send who dey watch. Him friends dey toast, everybody dey happy.

Wetin e resemble? Na couple picture be that.

As I look am, my heart just dey cut small small. I like am, off my phone. I no even wait to see comments. I just tap power, close eyes. Comments rush come like flood:

[“Sis, no vex. Crown Prince just dey do gra gra. We know say na you him love pass.”]

[“Yes na, after him guy post that picture, he dey check if you like am.”]

[“He really wan see you. You reject am tonight—e dey pain am.”]

[“Sis, call am. Tell am say you dey jealous. E go rush come meet you!”]

People for internet get solution for everybody problem, except their own. I close eye, block all the comments for my mind.

I no know how long I lie down before I get up, body dey shake, send my lawyer message: “Send me the breakup agreement first. I go find chance give Kamsiyochukwu.”

As I type, my hand steady. I don reach point of no return. I need one day to move my assets—no make anybody notice or disturb.

As Naija babe wey sabi, I no go let them use me shine. After the party, I go take night flight commot for country.

The plan dey solid. By then, two copies of breakup agreement go reach my papa and Kamsiyochukwu.

If I stay here, even if I no marry Kamsiyochukwu, wahala no go end. My papa go just rush marry me give another person.

Na so our people dey do—woman no be luggage, but dem go pass you like waybill.