Chapter 1: The Shameful Betrayal

After dem settle engagement matter finish, everybody dey hail me for street, but my heart still dey shake small. Na so dem cook the matter finish, relatives don greet and well-wishers don shake hands. Market women wey hear say I go soon marry Tunde dey hail me for street, some even dey say, “Amarachi, na your time, o!” Tomatoes dey burst for tray, pepper sellers dey shout price, but na me dem dey point—future bride. The thing sweet me, but I dey fear small for belle. For our side, once engagement don land, na as good as marriage remain small.

Tunde used sweet words to make me break my vow of chastity. He just dey whisper all those sugar-coated things wey dey make person leg weak. "Amara, na only you dey my heart. I no fit wait reach wedding night," he talk, voice low, dey hold my hand soft-soft. That night, e be like jazz, my mind just dey float, I no even remember say I vow before God and Mama say I go keep myself. I remember Mama prayer that night, the way she dey talk say woman body na temple. But Tunde hand warm, his words dey sweet like honey for my ear. My body obey him touch, my spirit just dey beg make I stop, but na Tunde face I see, na Tunde I trust. Na so I cross line wey no suppose cross.

The next day, even though my body still dey pain me, I waka go find am—na there I see am fling my intimate undergarment for Papa front, open shame for everybody.

Shame nearly swallow me that morning. My leg dey shake as I waka reach Tunde side for parlour. As I open door, the first thing I see na my pink undercloth, my own private bodice, for ground, for Papa front! Na Tunde hand throw am, him eye no blink. The air heavy, as if thunder wan strike.

"I no fit marry woman wey no sabi respect herself. Na shame she carry come my house." His voice sharp, like knife. Neighbours wey pass outside slow down, dem ear dey ground. Uncle Ifeanyi clear throat, eye shift, women for corridor cover mouth. Papa face hard like stone, even Mama Sade for kitchen pause chop yam. Tunde just dey look me as if I be stranger. My heart dey beat, my hand cold.

"If the engagement can't be broken, then just promote the daughter Mama Sade born to main status and let her marry me instead." He no get shame, he talk am like say na ordinary matter. Chiamaka, Mama Sade pikin, just dey peep from corridor, her eye dey shine. My own blood sister—half-sister—Tunde dey use me rub ground for her sake.

So, na my younger half-sister—born by Papa’s concubine—wey Tunde truly love. People for compound don dey gossip since, say na Chiamaka Tunde dey eye. Me I no believe, but now e clear as day. My chest heavy. E be like breeze carry me, I no fit stand well.

Later, Tunde told me, "In the future, when you become my second wife, abeg, no dey form for your half-sister wey go be the main madam." He come meet me for backyard later, dey talk as if nothing do. "Amara, you go still dey my heart o. No vex, abeg. But when you become second wife, no dey show yourself for Chiamaka, she go be the main madam." I look am, words no come. I just dey look ground, my throat dry.

I just kept quiet. My tongue heavy, as if sand full my mouth. If I talk, na cry I go burst. So I just dey there, dey watch mosquito dance for evening air.

He no even know. He dey talk like say na ordinary thing, no even notice say my eye dey red. Na so I know say he never really care about how I feel. If to say he look me well, maybe he for see as I dey break inside.

After that wahala, my papa already promise me to one family for faraway Ibadan, away from the city. Omo, for that moment, Papa no waste time. Him gather him people, send message give one friend for Ibadan. "Amarachi no go marry for here again," he talk. He no even ask me, just set everything as tradition dey demand, so my name no go spoil finish for city. The journey wey dey wait me, na one wey go carry me far from all this wahala.