Chapter 4: Harmattan and Heartbreak

After dem change monitor, everything work. Technician fix am, staff dey laugh: "Abeg, na love dey make machine spoil o!" I laugh, but my mind dey elsewhere.

For Kenechukwu and Morayo side, after couple games, heart rate pass 70, dem waka comot sharp. Audience clap, producers nod—drama dey happen for camera.

Our own side calm. Tension thick, but we dey act like nothing dey.

Emeka heart rate low—25. Staff dey whisper, dey wonder if monitor dey work.

"If e no pass," I ask, "we go sleep here overnight?" I dey joke small. I dey wonder if this awkwardness go last till morning.

Emeka hear me, open eye, look my way, almost smile. Hand adjust hoodie, face hard to read. But I sabi the old mischief.

He stand tall, shoulders broad, black hoodie, eyes faraway and cold. Just dey for him world. My eye dey admire, but I hide am.

Staff say, "Na failed mission. After one hour, una fit come out." Everybody laugh. "Una two no dey try at all!" Camera crew dey joke. I smile, tap phone.

We be last to come out. Corridor empty. Other pairs don go celebrate. We just stroll, no drama, no talk.

["Dead show, abeg."]

["No chemistry at all between them."]

["Abeg, carry them comot, I just wan see Morayo and Kenechukwu."]

Comments dry till livestream end. Show finish, but gist dey fly. My cousin send screenshot. "Ifu, see wetin dem talk about you o!" I just laugh, move on.

Post-show interview. Producers arrange set. Camera light dey blind, makeup artist dey dab powder, room dey buzz.

Kenechukwu stand for corner, dey watch Morayo interview. Eyes pass my side small. Face unreadable, but tension still dey. Sometimes, old love dey linger.

"You happy?" He ask Morayo, voice low, face dey hold proud smile. I ready for any shade.

He ask me for no reason. I dey wonder, "Why this one dey ask question?" I dey prepare answer wey go shut am up.

"You ever think say Emeka fit like you?" Eye dey scan my face. Na jealousy dey worry am, but I no show reaction.

I waka pass am, chin up. No time for old drama. Let past stay for back.

But he block me. Step to side, hand for pocket, acting cool. I sigh, ready for next move.

"Wetin you go do now, Ifunanya? I dey sure now say divorcing you na best thing." Voice tinged with pride, but pain still dey eyes. I just nod, no talk. Some wahala no need reply.

Somebody pass, Kenechukwu straighten. Posture change, like camera dey roll. He put on loving, gentle look.

Still with that gentle, heartbroken look. He dey act victim. Fans dey buy story, but people wey sabi see through am.

As if na me wound am pass. For Naija, we sabi act victim well. I don tire for show. I dey crave my peace.

Morayo finish interview, walk up to me, hold my hand. Hand warm, grip firm. Room quiet, all eyes dey. She dey act supportive, but I sabi say na camera she dey perform for.

"Ifunanya-sis," she get small coral bead for wrist, the type dem say dey tie two destinies. "Cherish Kenechukwu-bro, he really loves you."

I look bead—memory wey pain me. Scene dey sweet audience, but for me, e dey bite.

That coral bead. My mind flash to that night—rain dey fall, I dey pray for Kenechukwu. Na only thing I ask—make nothing do am. I never know say all my sacrifice go end like this.

I don see am before. That bead mean plenty. Old hope, old wish. Symbol of love I think go last.

Last year, wedding anniversary, Kenechukwu stalked, car accident. My heart almost stop. Call come, "Madam, your husband dey hospital." I rush go, no change clothe. Na small wound, but mind scatter.

He fine. Doctors reassure me. I thank God, drop small offering for altar Sunday.

I carry am up hill to pray, close eye, wish for safety. We climb mountain, candle, kneel, beg God. Faith strong.

When I open eye, I see him buy another bead. I expect say he go tie for my wrist. Instead, he turn am for hand, lost for thought.

My heart dey beat, dey wait gesture. He just smile, shake head. "No vex, Ifu. Na for my mind I need am." Words sting, but I swallow.

Now, e dey Morayo wrist. Na so love dey waka. From one hand to another. I look, but face strong.

"No vex," Morayo say, "I hope you two go dey alright." Voice sweet, but na show. Producers dey nod, happy.

I no talk. Lips sealed, eyes cold. For my mind, I dey count down to waka commot.

Kenechukwu no know. Mind dey for camera, not me. Morayo no know either. She dey act part, no know wahala wey dey flow.

Actually, I agree to show for reason I no fit explain. I dey find closure, peace, maybe small revenge. But truth be say, my heart don far from this drama.

That day I close eye, Kenechukwu no dey my heart again. Na so I free myself. Na so I finally start to heal.

The show dey record only weekends. Every Friday, dem ship us to location. Bag ready, old slippers. I dey balance new life with reality TV drama.

Dem call us "weekend couples." Hashtag trend every Sunday. My cousin dey bet on which couple go trend.

Weekdays, I dey hustle. Early morning office, night market. Life no dey wait.

I pick up old job, wan go back entertainment company as agent. Enter office, staff greet me like prodigal daughter. Desk still dey. I ready start afresh.

"Emeka and Morayo don divorce since," my boss gist one day. Everybody pretend say dem no hear, but ear dey ground.

Boss adjust glasses, voice low. Always reason industry like old soldier. "He sign ten-year contract with Morayo papa company, now e fit end am."

Na so entertainment be. People dey tie body for contract wey choke pass marriage. Emeka just dey wait make e finish.

"He dey set up studio, I recommend you to am." Boss try help, dey push my name. For Naija, connection na key.

With address boss give me, I see Emeka for studio. New building, glass everywhere. He dey argue with sound engineer. When he see me, face soft small, no talk.

Sun shine, outline cheekbones. If person snap, fit use as magazine cover. I admire small, but bone face.

He hard to reach. Busy, people call name every two seconds. PA dey block road. I wait, dey press phone.

I wait long. Sun dey set, leg dey pain me. I read old chats, try distract. Na so Naija hustle—patience na virtue.

Assistant come out, face full pimples, dey chew gum. Smile, "Aunty, sorry o. Oga no get time today."

"Sorry, Aunty Ifunanya, we no fit talk today." Voice soft, firm. I no vex. Thank am, pick bag, waka slow go car park.

On my way back, car break down. Harmattan breeze slap my face, lips don crack, wrapper dey stick for body as I dey wait for help. Tire burst for express. I curse, check boot for spare. Night dey fall.

Eleven at night, outskirts, rain dey fall. Everywhere dark, streetlight weak. Smell of wet sand float. Hair soak, wrapper cling.

I hold umbrella, wait for tow truck. Try call mechanic, credit finish. "Who send me come out this night?" Phone battery blink red.

Watching cars pass, like spirits. Every headlight, hope rise then fall. Nobody stop. I dey feel like ghost for roadside. Hunger dey join.

Nobody to pick me. I send text, no reply. Mind dey drift, eye scan horizon. I dey pray rain no increase.

One car headlights flash. Light bright, I block eye. Heart dey beat—hope say na help.

Black business car window roll down, Emeka assistant call: "Aunty Ifunanya!" Voice sharp. I waka run to car, relief for chest.

"Aunty Ifunanya, abeg enter car first." I no argue, jump in, wipe face with handkerchief. AC cool, car clean. I fit breathe.

Emeka dey back, cap low, sleeping. Curl up, head for window. Even for sleep, face stubborn, lips tight. Eye linger, I look away.

Breathing soft, long legs bent. Body too big for back, legs squeeze. Hoodie, hand for pocket. For a moment, e feel like old times.

Space too small. Bag, laptop, food flask scatter floor. I shift, bag block leg. We manage space like old lovers.

Suit dey hang, perfume fresh. Taste still dey expensive—na only Emeka fit mix hustle and style.

Fresh pine scent. I draw am in, remember first time I hug am, cologne dey stay for shirt all day.

That memory sweet, bitter. Hand tingle, I act cool, look outside.

"Aunty Ifunanya, I wan buy water for filling station ahead. You want?" Assistant ask. Voice polite, try break tension. I smile, nod.

"Just call me Ifunanya, I go follow you." I dey act young, no be aunty. He laugh, "No wahala, Aunty!" I no argue.

"No wahala," he wave, step out. "I go come back soon." He run commot, close door gentle. Everywhere quiet. Only me and Emeka.

Silence heavy. Heart dey beat, I fidget with purse. Reason say make I talk, but mouth dry.

No one else. Night quiet. Only our breathing dey fill air. Mind dey run, "How we reach here?"

No cameras. For first time, no microphone, no camera. Only reality.

Headlights flicker, inside car dim. Light move for dashboard, cast shadow for face. Jawline sharp, lashes long. I look, then look away.

Even with seat between, his breathing close to my ear. Every movement, I dey aware. Skin tingle, heart drum like bata.

I stare supermarket not far, blue light shine, assistant dey pace by shelf. I try focus on something else. Blue light cast hope, assistant waka, buy biscuit and water.

I remember one time for supermarket, I see Morayo advert. Her face dey shine for poster, skin yellow like early morning pap. I point am out to Kenechukwu, try joke.

"She fine o," I tell am. He no smile. Eyes change, face front. Jaw tight.

He act like e no care. Brush off my comment, "She dey okay." Body loud, words soft.

I no know say jealousy dey boil. Na small words dey spark big fire for Naija marriage.

That ‘okay’ make am stop dey come home. I notice say any time I mention Morayo, he go vex, go club, come late. Na so distance start grow.

Later, I hear say Morayo na first love. Gist spread for industry. Even my makeup friend talk, "Na Morayo be real babe before you." I just nod, act say e no pain me.

They break up when he dey struggle. Before fame, before money, Morayo waka. Na me follow am from scratch, but when e blow, e run go back.

He never forget her. True talk. No matter how I try, his mind always dey wander back.

But for supermarket, he quickly change topic, ask, "Baby, you never date before me?" He dey try confirm if I get secret.

"No." I talk am sharp, lie no gree tongue twist. For mind, I hope say he go believe.

At least, na so I tell everybody. Even my mama. Package face, make nobody use past do me.

In car, someone kick my calf. I shock, look back. Emeka foot touch my leg, no be mistake.

Long leg stretch from back, not by mistake. Intentionally, playfully, like child, tap me. Try break tension. I smile small, hide am.

I move leg out of reach, no talk, no look back. Silence heavy, but sweet. Only old memories dey dance.

I cross leg, adjust skirt, hold bag tight. Pray make heart no jump comot.

"Ifunanya." Voice low, rough from sleep. My name sound different, like old tune I miss.

He speak, voice still stubborn: "Long time no see." I swallow, heart beat. I force smile, reply, "E really don tey." For mind, flashback dey run.

All these years, e never fade. Presence still dey shake me. Sometimes, time no cure old fire.

He still like call my name like that. Voice wrap my name, turn am song. I feel am deep, even as I pretend.

Just like that small, stuffy rented room... Those days—hot sun, no fan, we squeeze for mattress. Happiness dey, even if money no dey.

I remember how touch dey make me forget wahala. Love wey pure, stubborn. Memory dey tie me sometimes.

In his gentle but wild, restless hands. He sabi touch like say tomorrow no dey. Even now, memory dey burn me. I look window, try clear head.