Chapter 9: Coming Home

Time fly, four years waka go.

Each year carry its own wahala, but pain no fit last forever. I learn new things, see new world. Sometimes, memory go bite me, but I dey push am away.

Chijioke and Amina dey marry.

Group chat full of "Congratulations!" and memes. People dey tag me, some dey yarn rubbish, but I just dey laugh for phone.

Even as I try avoid their matter, our friends circle dey cross.

Wetin person go do? Na small world. People dey show me pictures, dey ask if I go attend the wedding.

I still dey hear their gist.

No week pass wey I no see their name for my social media. Even my mama still dey pray for "Chijioke and his family" every Sunday.

The heavy load for my heart finally drop—everything don settle.

I feel peace, small joy even. My mind fit rest small, like breeze for harmattan.

Without me as wahala, dem still end up together.

The story run its course, just as the dream show me. I no fit fight destiny reach that one.

E just take small time.

Na so life be. Sometimes you fit only delay wetin go happen.

I fit finally come back home with clear mind.

I dey ready, my heart light. My flight touch down for Lagos, I smell home—scent of rain, dust, fried akara.

The air thick with diesel smoke, hawkers dey sell gala and La Casera, I sabi say I don reach Naija. As I waka come out airport, I jam one guy wey dress simple.

He stand near arrivals, white shirt, jeans, small box of flowers for hand. Smile dey his face.

"Kamsi, welcome back."

His voice warm, familiar. My heart skip one beat, but I compose.

He wave me, smile, then give me flowers.

Na the type of flowers dem dey sell for road junction, bright yellow and red. I take am, the scent sweet.

I pause, then realise—na Tunde, the marriage partner my parents arrange.

His smile dey calm, his hand firm. I remember our WhatsApp chat, the voice notes, the small jokes.

Even though na arrangement, e still depend on my mind. My parents don give me him contact since, we don chat small.

We talk about food, music, even who dey support Super Eagles pass. The small comfort warm my heart.

Tunde na correct guy—calm, fine, really good person.

He get sense, no too dey talk, but his eye dey always watch.

I smile take the flowers. "Thank you, I really like am."

He laugh, the kind laugh wey dey light up the room. I feel safe.

"As long as you like am." He adjust him agbada small, try form big boy, but I catch the shy smile wey dey hide for corner of his mouth. He smile carry my bag.

His chivalry sweet me small. I remember say my papa always yarn, "Good man dey show for small things."

I follow am reach corner, ready enter lift go parking lot.

My suitcase dey roll behind us, Tunde dey gist me about traffic for Third Mainland Bridge.

As I turn, I jam Chijioke eyes.

Everything freeze. E be like time stand still. The past and present dey collide.

I freeze—even my blood cold.

For a moment, na only his eyes I dey see. Every memory rush back—childhood, pain, love, wahala.

This Chijioke now, both familiar and strange.

He don change. His face harder, small beard, eyes deep. But the way he stand still get that quiet strength.

Cold face, sharp features, tall, his presence strong.

He stand like person wey own the whole place, but pain still dey hide for back of his eyes.

The way he look me, no love, no soft, just ice.

E be like wall dey between us. The air heavy.

He walk straight come my side, each step dey shake my heart wey don quiet since.

My chest dey drum, palms dey sweat. I dey try stand strong, but my legs dey shake small.

His presence make me move back small.

I shift near Tunde, almost use him as shield.

Just then, one sharp female voice break the tension.

"Chijioke, I dey here. You wait long?"

Her voice dey sweet, dey carry confidence. She walk fast, heels dey knock ground.

No need ask—na Amina.

She dey shine, her aura dey fill the room. My heart twist small, but I force smile.