My Husband Chose My Rival / Chapter 4: Packing Pain and Planting Pride
My Husband Chose My Rival

My Husband Chose My Rival

Author: Caroline Kane


Chapter 4: Packing Pain and Planting Pride

Before, I sure say as I move enter general mansion, na my home be this. I nearly carry all the Aisha house follow me. Now as I dey pack, I see say plenty things dey. Room full of memories. Every corner get gist. From bedspread wey my late mama send, to little calabash for my dressing table, everywhere dey carry my story.

The ones from Aisha house easy to know, but Ireti no sure about the things wey Tunde Garuba give me. Ireti dey struggle. Some things wey she touch, e be like dem dey burn her hand—she no sure if to pack am or drop am. Her face dey twist like person wey dey do exam.

"Madam, these ones..." Ireti hold brocade box, come near. "Na general give you. Make we carry am?"

She talk am soft. For our side, e no good to dey carry man property waka. If wahala start, na you go hear say you thief from man house.

My hand touch am one by one. As my finger touch each item, memories dey rush me. Na so heart dey heavy, as if I dey touch ghost.

Cowrie hairpin—na him pin am for my hair last year during New Yam Festival. The old kerosene lamp—na that night, everywhere dey shine, he carry lamp, find me for crowd, talk say, "Remember, Aisha like light. All your life, I go dey carry you go see am."

The lamp small but e carry big meaning. That New Yam Festival, I dance with joy. Now, as I see am, my heart dey cold.

Poem for paper, handkerchief—every one I keep as treasure. That time, happiness no let me sleep. I dey always read those poems for night, dey dream of future. Na love make person keep ordinary paper as gold.

"Leave them," I talk. I turn tidy the table. My sleeve touch the water bowl, water pour for paper—just like when he give me scholar tools, I happy spill ink everywhere. Water dey soak paper, ink dey run. That year, I no send, I dey laugh, say if ink spoil, we go buy new one. Now, I just dey look am with hollow eye.

As we dey pack, noise too much. Steward rush come, eye dey look the boxes, e wan talk but hold am. Later, he ask, voice dey shake,

"Madam, you dey go somewhere?"

He dey look me with small fear. Everybody for house dey suspect, but nobody wan talk am loud.

Annulment letter never come, so I no fit talk true. "Still remain one month before wedding. By custom, we no suppose see before marriage. I go back Aisha house for now."

I force smile, but my chest dey tight. For our place, custom fit be good excuse when true wahala dey hide.

Steward agree sharp sharp. He breathe relief, head dey nod like agama. For him mind, e fit rest small now.

Next day, almost finish pack. Steward come again, this time with workmen carry iron tools. He talk Tunde Garuba message:

"General say adviser no get family for Makurdi, so she go stay for general mansion for now."

The announcement loud, e echo for corridor. Even servants begin look themselves.

"Adviser body no too strong, and west wing dey face sun, e go good for her to recover. General say make Madam clear west wing."

The order sure, no room for argument. Everybody begin move as if dem dey pursue contract.

Servants don already uproot the hibiscus trees wey me and Tunde Garuba plant together. The place dey scatter, roots dey fly. All my effort, all my dream for that garden, now e dey turn dust.

"Adviser like silk-cotton tree. General say make dem plant am everywhere for west wing."

Even the workers dey complain for low voice—na big job to remove hibiscus, plant new tree. Na only people wey dey enjoy power fit do that kain waste.

Na clear favouritism be this. E sure. Everybody for mansion know say na new queen dey enter.

Hibiscus tree fall for ground. Petals bury for sand. Maybe Tunde Garuba don forget—my best thing na to see hibiscus after rain for west wing. He talk before say west wing go be our bridal room.

My hand dey shake as I pick one petal, rub for my palm. I remember the first rain wey we stand together, as petals dey fall on us. Now, nothing remain.

With one sound, swing under the tree rope cut. The sound sharp—everybody freeze. The swing wey I dey use dream of future, now don break like hope.

Steward stand one side, talk careful,

"Madam like swing. We fit build another one for main compound..."

He talk am with fear, dey try beg me with eye. He no want wahala from Oga side.

"No need."

I talk am with finality. E shock everybody small. I no want fake comfort.

I bend pick hibiscus branch. I no send again. I hold the branch like say I dey hold old friend. My face blank, I no cry again.

"General mansion na Tunde Garuba own. He fit do as he like."

The words dey heavy. Na true. Woman no get say for man house if the man no send am again. Him promise of forever last only three years. Na so life be. Even sun fit set before you finish your work.

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