Chapter 2: Birthday Blues and Street Drama

On my birthday, Musa Garuba carry me comot from palace early, say e get surprise for me.

He no gree tell me wetin dey happen. Him just wear him fine blue agbada, tie royal turban with gold pin, and for the first time in months, him face soft like bread wey just commot from oven. My heart dey beat kpim, dey expect better wahala or surprise feast.

But as we dey ride horse for that long street, na so him eye catch the heroine wey dey corner dey get wahala.

Fatima Bello dey stand for one side of the dusty street, wrapper half-tied, face dey look ground. Small pikin dey drag her bag, and before I fit blink, wahala don start. Musa eye flash, face squeeze. I know say trouble don set.

He just bone face dey look, no gree make I help her.

E surprise me because Musa no dey quick rush matter wey no concern am, but this time him own different. He give me small eye sign make I no chook mouth, but my body dey itch. My spirit dey shout, 'Ayo, waka comot!'

But as the Left Minister pikin just touch her sleeve small, na so Musa Garuba rush come out.

You for see as Musa waka thunder! The Left Minister pikin, Alhaji Bello junior, na real wahala for capital. He just graze her sleeve, Musa no even think am, rush go like police wey catch thief. Sand fly for air, everybody scatter.

He beat the guy anyhow, you go dey hear bone dey crack, and e still no do, he draw long knife from him waist.

People for street stop dey talk, even mama put woman stop dey fry akara. "Ah! Crown Prince!" somebody shout. Knife dey shine like new cutlass for Sallah market, crowd begin fear say matter go pass be careful.

I rush enter middle, dey beg am, dey remind am say even as Crown Prince, you no fit just kill person for road.

I raise hand, beg like say na my life dey for line. "Musa abeg, you no fit do this kain thing for front of everybody. You be Crown Prince o!" My voice dey shake. Some people dey pray say make fight no turn to burial.

But the guy eye don red. “Shift, or I go kill you join.”

Na that time my heart cut—na so trust dey end? For this Musa hand? I know say matter don pass garri. Him face strong, sweat dey drip for forehead, hand dey shake small. People for crowd dey murmur, some dey record with phone.

I think say after all our years together, he no go fit hurt me.

For my mind, I dey reason say Musa no fit ever raise hand touch me, especially after all our runs. My chest dey swell with false hope.

But without even think am, he just stab the knife for my left shoulder. Blood just dey rush comot.

Sharp pain cut through me. I wan shout but my voice no come out. Tears blind my eye, my head dey buzz, I dey reason if na dream. Blood stain my new cloth, people dey scream. Some dey shout 'Blood of Jesus!' Others dey run. Na wah!

Even Mama Shola drop her tray of puff-puff, shout “Jesu!” and rush come. As he raise the knife again, Fatima Bello, wey dey stand behind am with small red eye, hold him sleeve.

Na so she waka enter, gentle like breeze wey dey blow after rain. She no talk much, just catch Musa sleeve gently, small tears gather for her eye.

She just call am softly, “Musa Garuba.” That her soft voice just cool am down immediately.

Her hand cold, but her voice carry power. Even Musa body freeze. Knife drop small for side. The kind love wey dey fly for air that moment, I fit feel am for my bone. Na so crowd begin murmur—'True love o!'

Musa Garuba, as if say he no wan scare her, loose hand from the knife.

He swallow spit, eyes still dey red, but him hand begin shake. For that moment, all the rage just waka commot for his body like breeze wey blow open window.

As I dey shake for pain, nearly fall for ground,

Na so my leg soft, body dey tremble, I dey try hold myself make I no disgrace. My cloth dey soak blood, head dey turn like say I wan collapse.

Musa Garuba just dey look the heroine wey he protect, the way he dey look her ehn, na like say na only two of them dey this world.

If love dey catch person, na that day I see am with my eye. Even people for street dey whisper, 'E don be! Musa don fall finish.'

After one long eye contact, dem finally look away.

Na the kind silent talk wey pass mouth. I just watch, my own pain dey do me like say make ground swallow me. If film dey play, na here dem go put soundtrack.

Musa Garuba stand for front of Fatima Bello, hold her hand, carry her pass crowd. He no even look back as he help her climb on top the horse wey he ride come.

He carry am like say na egg, make she no break. People for crowd dey clap, others dey bow head, some dey eye me like say I be spare part.

He just sit well, look me with cold eye, come order, “Ayo, carry Left Minister pikin go house, abeg help me apologize to Left Minister.”

Him eye sharp, voice no carry mercy. E just dey command like king wey know say people go obey.

The pain for my shoulder dey choke me, I no even fit breathe well. That him talk sef almost make me fall again.

Blood dey stain my wrapper, hand dey shake, but Musa voice no even soft. Na so I grit teeth, hold myself, no let anybody see my tears.

But Musa Garuba just pull rein, waka leave the wahala, no even look back.

He just turn horse, ride comot like say nothing happen. Dust dey rise, people dey point finger, some dey pity me, others dey wonder why he no even look back.

I just watch as him dey ride go alone, sigh.

Na long sigh. For my mind, I dey count all the years wey I don follow Musa. Sun, rain, palace gossip, I dey by him side. But today, na another woman he carry for horse.

Seven years—chai. If you wan win babe and leave me as supporting character, no wahala, I fit manage am. But you still stab me join?

If dem talk say love get as e be, na today I go agree. I just dey look my own life, dey wonder how I reach here.

E really pain me.

No be small. My eye wet, my heart dey pound. E no easy to dey strong for person wey fit cut you off like say you no matter. For this life, sha, na who dey chop pepper fit sabi if e hot.