Chapter 3: Office Politics and Resignation

Two days ago, I forget something for office, turn back to pick am. As I pass Akinlolu office, light still dey on.

Corridor quiet, just low AC hum and sharp floor polish smell. E be like after-hours spirit dey waka.

Ngozi sit sideways for his lap, arms round his neck, snuggled close.

She dey giggle small, face bury for his chest, like say world no exist. Young love dey sweet, sometimes e dey blind.

She say, acting cute, "Akinlolu, I want to get married."

She drag am, voice soft like morning pap. I almost laugh, but pain choke my throat.

I no be amebo, but that statement pause me.

Normally, I no get time for tori, but body no gree me waka go.

Akinlolu wear lazy smile, eyes half-closed, fingers dey play with Ngozi hair.

He look like man wey forget say real life dey outside. Inside that office, na only two of them dey.

"What is it, you can’t wait to marry, abi?"

His tone light, teasing her like small pikin. But I see the tiredness for his eye.

"No be so," Ngozi pout. "I just want to marry you. Akinlolu, will you marry me?"

Her words loud, clear. For that moment, I wonder if na me dey dream. Which kain confidence be this?

I stand for door, look Akinlolu through the half-open gap. He keep quiet long. Smile fade from his face. He meet my eyes quietly, then say softly, "Okay."

His voice almost lost inside air, but I hear am—like NYSC camp closing announcement, final and heavy. Our eyes lock, I no talk. Chest heavy.

"Madam Funmi, Akinlolu no like you again. The person he loves now is me."

Ngozi talk am boldly, look me with mix of nervousness and pride.

Her eyes shake, but chin high. If not for matter, I for clap her courage.

I lower my eyes. "Congrats then."

My lips dry, but I force am. Sometimes, defeat dey come with small dignity.

Akinlolu come back office next afternoon. As he enter, he call me.

His call short, direct. The kind wey no come with smile.

When I open door, he dey sit, tired, head in hands, thumbs pressing temples. Hangover don trigger migraine.

Eyes dull, skin ashy. Shirt wrinkle—no be the normal sharp Akinlolu. I pity am small, but hide am.

"Sort out the Palm Grove project and hand it over to Ngozi."

He talk am like order, not request. I stand, dey calculate.

His words pause me. "What?"

I almost laugh, think na joke. But his face no gree.

He no repeat, just look me hard.

Eyes dey dare me. If I argue, wahala fit burst.

"The Palm Grove project is important. Ngozi doesn’t have experience—"

I try explain, voice calm, but my heart dey beat anyhow.

"That’s why she needs the chance. Good start, fine CV."

Akinlolu dey push his own. Small pride dey voice. Man wey wan create chance for babe.

I keep quiet.

No wahala. Silence na weapon.

"Funmi, I’m not asking for your opinion."

Akinlolu hit table, patience finish.

Bang loud. For a second, I remember when we dey newly marry—na so e dey vex if business choke am.

I breathe deep, unclench fists. "Fine. But I get one condition."

I steady voice, make e no shake. For office, pride dey important.

He raise chin, signal me to continue.

Old habit, same sign from years before—when he dey ready hear my own side.

"Don’t change the original team, just make her project lead. Everybody must get their full bonus and share—nobody should lose out."

I talk am sharp, no shaking. Even for pain, I no fit let my people suffer.

"Okay, I agree."

His tone no get warmth, but yes be yes. Man of his word.

After he answer, I turn and leave.

My hand dey shake, but I no let am show. For office, if you weak, dem go chop you. I carry my dignity follow body, chest out—like woman wey dey go market with empty basket but full hope.

One and half hour I use arrange everything and explain to team. Their faces full of pity, sympathy, vex, anger.

You go think say dem dey mourn. Some even wipe eye. Nobody gree look me direct.

I knock table. "Abeg, make una no let feelings spoil work. No dey tell me loyalty story. This na work—do am, collect your money."

Voice strong. No room for long story. Na so Yoruba woman dey carry herself for office, no pity party.

When I finish, I go Akinlolu office. Ngozi dey there, smiling as she feed am chin-chin.

Whole place smell like bakery. She dey use small laugh try lighten air.

Akinlolu no like sweet things. He frown, but still allow her.

E funny. Love fit make person do anything.

When she see me, Ngozi sit up straight. "If una get business, I go step out."

She adjust skirt, face change. She try respect, but nervousness show.

"No need," Akinlolu say, put chin-chin box for her hand. "Go chop am for corner."

Tone dismissive, but smile hide for mouth. Still dey form boss.

Then he turn to me, voice cold. "Next time, knock before you enter."

The chill for his voice cold pass NEPA blackout. I just look am.

Did I even knock? Maybe I didn’t. Old habit.

Old habits die hard. Our old ways no fit new reality.

"There won’t be a next time."

Voice low, final. No argument.

"What?"

Eyes narrow. He no believe say I fit talk am.

I drop all documents on table. Look am straight, hand him last A4 paper—my resignation letter, bold for top.

Paper heavy for hand, but I steady am. Time don reach.

Akinlolu pause two seconds. Look up, eyes cold.

For those seconds, space freeze. I remember when he use same eye beg me marry am. Now, na same eye, different meaning.

"What’s the meaning of this? You dey threaten me?"

Voice rise, as if e fit change my mind. For office, lion; for house, I know his true size.

I pause. "You dey overthink. The resignation letter don ready since, I just dey wait make Palm Grove finish. Now wey I don hand over, my work don end. Na perfect time to leave."

Words calm, but chest dey shake. Old Yoruba adage say: Bi ile ba mo dun, ese ni a n fi n bo (If the home is not sweet, your feet will take you out).

Akinlolu glare. Ngozi look scared.

Ngozi hand shake, mouth open, wan talk, but fear catch am.

"Madam Funmi, I no do the project again. Abeg, no vex. I know I never reach, I just wan learn from you. I go withdraw, na my fault, sorry."

Voice tiny, tears gather for eye. World heavy on her shoulder, but she still dey try hold am.

Akinlolu face dark. He pull Ngozi to his side. "If you wan do am, do am. You no need beg anybody."

He carry her like trophy, but pain dey his eyes. Sometimes, pride dey cover real feeling.

"So you wan resign? The company go fall without you, abi?"

Words sharp, but I sabi say na fear dey inside.

He pick pen, sign bottom, throw resignation letter at me. "Comot for here."

Paper land for floor like old bill. I bend pick am—no shame.

I look down at the paper on floor. "One more thing."

I no fit waka without drop my last talk.

Akinlolu face still hard.

Lines deep, jaw set like rock. E dey prepare for war.

"Since you and Ngozi wan marry, make we end our own marriage first, abi?"

Words heavy, but na only way forward.

Even Ngozi stop cry. She hold Akinlolu arm, look am, nervous but hopeful.

Her breath hold, eyes round. Sometimes, women dey fear their own wish.

Akinlolu freeze. Slowly turn head. "Wetyn you talk?"

Voice low, like midnight breeze. No expect this one.

"I say make we divorce too—make we finish am once."

I stand straight, no shaking. End fit come quietly, but I go still hold my head high.