Chapter 6: Last Gifts and Final Choices

Somehow, Tobi had followed me and saw what just happened. He opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. I paused, and he quickly caught up.

He looked at the boys, then at me. For once, it seemed he wanted to ask how I survived, but pride wouldn't let him.

"I take leave today. I fit follow you go market."

The way he said it, you would think it was something special. I found it funny. When I first arrived in Abuja, I wanted Tobi to go shopping with me—choosing a house, buying things for the home. I needed his help for everything. But he said he just started work and really couldn’t spare time. But he took leave to follow Simi to visit her parents’ graves.

My laughter came out sharp, but I swallowed it before he heard. Now, if he wants to follow, let him.

"We never go market together like this in a long time," Tobi said, sounding nostalgic. He gently held my hand, his eyes soft, like we were back in Makurdi.

I remembered those days—the smell of rain, the way he’d buy boli for me and laugh when I complained about the pepper. Sometimes, I wondered if he remembered too.

Back then, he would come pick me after I closed my stall. If I finished early, he’d take me shopping. I was always curious, and he would patiently follow me from stall to stall.

Market women would tease us: 'Anu, you and your husband no dey tire for love?' I'd blush and hide my face, but Tobi would squeeze my hand and wink.

My memory was a bit hazy, but I quickly snapped out of it. Someone nearby mentioned there was a fire in Palm Grove Estate.

The crowd gathered, as they do, around any gist. "Dem say dem nearly burn down the place o," a man shouted.

Tobi immediately let go of my hand and rushed to ask for details.

He didn't even say excuse me—just darted off like lightning.

"Two pikin dey play, dem set the woodshed on fire," the person replied.

The news spread like breeze—everybody had a version. But Tobi's mind was already far away.

Tobi’s face changed at once. He looked at me. "Anu..."

His eyes begged me to understand, like I was the gatekeeper of his freedom.

"Go now. I fit buy wetin I need by myself," I said. I wasn’t someone who needed him anymore.

I didn't even look up as I picked my bag. I had learned to walk alone.

As Tobi left, he kept looking back at me. "I go follow you shop another day."

He sounded hopeful, but I just waved him off. I knew he would not.

Only five days left—I wasn’t ready to waste them on him.

I counted them like cowries under my pillow, each one bringing me closer to my own sunrise.

This time, just after noon, Tobi returned. No food was left for him on the table, and he didn’t need it. He used to eat out with Simi before coming home.

Even his footsteps sounded different—softer, less certain. But I didn’t turn.

I brushed past him.

"Anu," Tobi called, sounding annoyed for some reason. He rubbed his forehead, frustrated. "You no see say I wound? You no fit care small?"

The bandage on his hand looked fresh, but my heart didn’t move. I just glanced at him lazily, not sure what he wanted from me. The less wahala before leaving, the better.

I just wanted peace, nothing more. Let him carry his pain to Simi.

I started avoiding Tobi as much as possible. I came home late every day, only returning when he was asleep. The protection money I paid was worth it—the area boys never disturbed me. Even Baba Danjuma, after hearing I was going to divorce, said it should have happened long ago.

"Na you dey pamper am! If na me, I for don pack go since." His laughter echoed down the corridor, making even the rats scatter.

He spat, "Na wa o! You, fine and capable woman—how you take marry that kind man?"

I smiled. "True, I regret am."

We both shook our heads, two survivors in a world that didn’t care.

For three days straight, I didn’t say a word to Tobi. I didn’t care what he was busy with, or whether he went to see Simi. Sometimes, when I got home, Tobi wanted to talk, but I didn’t want to hear, so I pretended to be asleep. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel him standing by the bed for a long time.

Once, I felt the mattress dip like he wanted to sit beside me, but he changed his mind and left. The smell of Dettol faded as he closed the door.

Life just continued. Soon, it was the last two days.

I went to the shop to collect the bracelet I ordered—a gift for my mother. I wanted her to have the best. I had arranged the pickup with the shopkeeper, but when I arrived, he was out. Still, he had already set out the blue agate bracelet I picked.

The sun was high and the streets were buzzing. I almost hummed as I reached for the velvet box, thinking how my mother would smile when she saw it.

Just as I was about to take a closer look, a slender, fair hand reached out and picked it up.

Her nails red like zobo, perfume sweet like market mango. I recognized Simi at once.

"Brother Tobi, you think this fits me?"

She turned to Tobi, who was standing right beside her. Simi’s voice was soft and gentle, just like her. Her hand was smooth, the blue agate making it look even whiter and softer.

For a second, I almost laughed. Only Simi could call a married man 'Brother' and still look at him with those eyes.

"Anything you wear dey fit you," Tobi replied, his voice soft, Adam’s apple moving, the love in his eyes plain for all to see.

He sounded like those Nollywood actors that always lose their wife at the end. I wondered if he even remembered I was standing there.

"E fine, but e no cheap o..." Simi said.

She twisted the bracelet on her wrist, her eyes wide and innocent.

"If you like am, buy am. No worry about price."

Tobi’s voice was gentle, almost doting, and the shopkeeper’s face split into a wide grin.

The shop assistant was all smiles, ignoring me, and started praising Tobi and Simi. "Oga, you dey treat your wife well o."

He even winked at me, as if I should be proud of my 'husband.'

Simi blushed. Tobi didn’t correct the mistake; his ears turned a bit red.

I could see the shame flicker in his eyes, but pride wouldn’t let him say anything. That was Tobi—always loyal to a fault, even if it meant trampling others.

At that moment, he met my eyes. In that instant, everywhere just quiet. I held my breath, waiting for the world to choose—me or her.