WALKING ON WATERS CHAPTER 3

 

CHAPTER 3

"First let me say to you

I can not wait to see you

You are the treasure I've been waiting for" Simi's heartfelt lyrics from "Duduke" resonated through the air, carried by the loud, booming speakers strategically placed in the lush garden behind Murewa's posh house.

Beneath the twin canopies erected for the naming ceremony in the lush garden, a diverse assembly of guests sat adorned in resplendent traditional attire, creating a vibrant mosaic of colors that painted the scene. Amidst the lively celebration, some guests indulged in the culinary delights displayed on tables, savoring the intricate flavors of Nigerian cuisine. Others, with glasses raised, immersed themselves in toasts and joyous camaraderie. Seated amidst this dynamic symphony, I found myself captivated by the scene through my phone, a solitary observer in the midst of communal revelry.

As the lively rhythms echoed, my gaze wandered through the lively garden until it found its destination – the gaze of my wife. In that moment,  our eyes interlocked in a silent connection, a momentary pause in the midst of the lively spectacle, bridging the gap between the festivity surrounding us and the intimate bond we shared beneath the expansive shelter.

From a distance, her lips silently formed the word "What," a playful exchange amidst my aunt's hospitality, distributing souvenirs to the guests. With a soft smile, I held her gaze, subtly directing her attention to the vacant seat beside me.

As my aunt continued her interactions, my eyes conveyed a quiet plea, whispering, "Come and sit with me." Amidst the lively scene of greetings and souvenirs finding their places, our unspoken connection formed a delicate thread, weaving a moment of invitation in the midst of the bustling celebration.

Her response, a resounding "no," echoed through a playful imitation as she shook her head. Without hesitation, she seamlessly followed my aunt to the next station to distribute gifts. The light-hearted interaction injected a playful energy into the festive air, creating a moment of shared amusement amidst  the ongoing celebration.

There is one thing that doesn't sit well with me, pertaining, family events. I notice a recurring pattern that unsettles me. Despite arriving at events with the initial intent to savor the occasion with my wife, she often gets pulled away to handle unnecessary tasks, particularly when my aunt is involved. My aunt seems to think I excessively indulge my wife, perceiving it as unnecessary and potentially fostering a spoiled attitude, a viewpoint I find challenging to align with.It's like a repetitive melody, these situations that disrupt the symphony of our shared moments. Each task assigned feels like an offbeat note, pulling my wife away and diminishing the harmony we had set out to create together. The rhythm of our joy seems constantly interrupted by these unwelcome tasks.

"Do we have to go?" I mumbled, my words tiptoeing out, hesitantly standing in the doorway of our matrimonial bedroom. My gaze dropped as if trying to find solace in the pattern of the floor, uncertain about the necessity of the impending departure.

"Yes, we're going," she stated flatly, focused on adjusting her headgear in front of the dressing mirror. There was a deliberate absence of eye contact as if her actions spoke louder than words.  it seemed as though the decision was final, leaving no room for further discussion.

"Can't we consider sending monetary gifts via bank transfer? I believe Murewa and his wife would appreciate that more than our physical presence," I proposed, 

while referencing  my cousin. Seated on the bed, I watched Yadah struggling to secure her earrings, the idea of an alternative gift lingering in the air.

"What would you prefer to be doing at home if we skip the event? I've rearranged my schedule to attend, just as you have. So, what do you envision us doing at home instead of attending Murewa's child naming ceremony?"  she inquired, facing me with her left hand on her hip. Her eyes held a certain anticipation, like an open book waiting for my response, seeking an answer from my lips.

"We could do a lot of things, you know," I said, a playful grin tugging at the corners of my lips. 

"Like what?" she inquired flatly, seemingly unaffected by the mischievous glint in my eyes. Her tone suggested a desire for specifics, unswayed by the playful undertone.

"Oh my God, the kind of woman that Yadah can be sometimes..mtchew" 

"We could stay indoors, order some of your favorite Chinese food from the restaurant you love, watch those new Korean series you've been dying to see, and, of course, I'll give you that foot rub you've been planning to get from the spa this weekend. Then, you know, we can end the day in the best way ever," I said with a coy smile, attempting to entice her with things that appealed to her interests.

"Hmmm, that's cool," she said, nodding in agreement. My hopes began to soar at her initial response.

"But it's still a big NO, Yele. We are going," she stated firmly, extinguishing my elevated spirits with a decisive declaration.

"It is a family event that is compulsory to attend. I assured Dad we would be there, not to mention Aunt Ibiyemi's endless calls and messages insisting on our presence. It's your cousin's child naming ceremony, Yele," she emphasized, underscoring the familial obligations that seemed to override our alternative plans.

"I don't understand why attending your family events seems bothersome to you, yet you find excitement in attending mine," she commented. As I stood up to dress, I felt a bit like a child who had their candy taken away.

"I wish you could comprehend what makes family events, especially those involving my aunt, irksome for me.”

“ If you're not up for it,  I could go alone and come up with some random excuses on your behalf," she proposed, scrutinizing herself in the mirror as she checked out her dress.

"No need for that; I'm coming with you," I said, sulking as I dressed up. I'd rather endure the wearisome event than subject my wife to attending alone, where I won't be able to shield her from my aunt's taunting or any unnecessary issues from my troublesome cousin and his wife.

"So much for protecting, indeed," I sighed, abruptly being pulled back to reality by the DJ's switch to a new song.

"Hey, Yele, There you are " I overheard my father calling out my name.

“Hello, Dad, you're here. Ekaboo,Welcome, sir," I said, my greeting accompanied by an earnest half-prostration, a quiet acknowledgment of respect. His bespectacled gaze held wisdom, accentuated by the dignified attire—a pristine white lace buba and sokoto paired with the formal traditional cap of a Yoruba Man.

"How was your trip down here? I hope you didn't experience any delays," I asked, pulling out a chair for him to sit.

"Hmmm... There was," he said, shaking his head with a sigh. "But thank God, I'm here now." He eased into the chair, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as he settled down. 

As my father settled down beside me under the canopy tent, I couldn't help but observe the striking resemblance between us. His features mirrored mine so closely that it felt like glimpsing into a reflection of my future self. The thought of being my father's carbon copy lingered in my mind, an unspoken acknowledgment of the legacy and traits passed down through generations. Sitting side by side, under the shared shelter, I couldn't help but marvel at the tangible connection that transcended mere genetics. It felt like witnessing a convergence of past and present.

“Glad you made it earlier than me; the traffic down here delayed my trip," he said, wiping his face with a handkerchief.

"I had thought about it too; I knew that would be what was keeping you on the road. But you're here now, and about getting here earlier, I think that credit goes to Yadah," I stated.

"I trust that daughter of mine," my dad said, smiling. It had been a special connection between Yadah and my father, referring to each other as daughter and father. I remembered how Yadah had vehemently told my dad after our wedding that she was not his daughter-in-law but a daughter to him. And it seemed true because, without Yadah, there are certain things my father wouldn't be able to reach me to do, like being at this event.

"Where is she, though?" my father asked about his best daughter-in-law.

"She is down there with Aunt, sharing some souvenirs," I pointed out.

"That's great, it's good to have her help your aunt out," he replied, opening the cap of one of the table water bottles on the table.

"Let's hope Aunt thinks the same way you do," I spoke firmly.

"Ahnnnn... Yele, don't say that," my father interjected into my words, speaking as if he was being cowed.

"Where is Molawa and Mum?" I inquired, asking about the whereabouts of my younger brother and stepmom.

"Molawa will arrive late. He called to let me know that his boss needed him to handle some work-related matters. You know, with his upcoming departure for Cambridge, they expect him to complete any assigned tasks earlier than usual," he explained, and I nodded in agreement. My brother, a lawyer at one of the top-tier firms in Nigeria, had recently secured a full scholarship for his LL.M. at Cambridge University.

"And Mum?" I asked once more, inquiring about my stepmom's whereabouts.

"Hmmm, your aunt informed me that Murewa and his wife decided this naming ceremony was strictly by invitation. Due to the limited invites, she could only secure invitations for your brother and me, coupled with you and your wife too," he explained. Hearing this statement, I chuckled while scanning the canopy tent filled with people, a contradiction to the limited slots she had mentioned.

“My aunt and the cunning cards she has up her sleeves.” 

At times, I ponder why she holds such influence—not over my wife and me, mind you, but over the rest of the family. Since day one, I've made it clear that I won't be one  of her pawns.

 Still, it baffles me that this woman,who is  merely my late mom's identical twin sister, wedges such control over the family, all while my dad says nothing against it.

"And how did Mom react to it?" I probed,  intentionally delving deeper into the matter for more details.

"She was okay with it. She had to visit Dolapo at school today. He called earlier this week, mentioning that he had misplaced his eyeglasses. Despite having an extra pair with him, she went to provide him with an additional one," he explained, referring to my second half-brother in boarding school.

So typical of step-mom, perpetually setting the stage for my aunt's charades. 

At times, I question whether she's embracing peace or just exhibiting docility to endure my aunt's excesses. I shrugged off the thought, contemplating her true motives. One thing is certain, no one dares to pull such antics with me. It's either I attend the event with my wife or stay back home with her.

"Dadddyy," I heard Yadah's cheerful voice calling out to my father. She walked directly to where he was seated, embracing him with a genuflect, a gesture of respect and affection combined.

"My  daughter, my daughter ,I inquired about you upon arrival, and your husband mentioned you were assisting your mother-in-law with some tasks," my father stated.

"Yes, sir," Yadah affirmed with a nod.

"So grateful you helped out," my father said, a warm smile forming on his face as he glanced at Yadah with genuine gratitude.

"It's really no big deal, sir," Yadah mumbled, her gaze shifting to the floor as a faint blush tinted her cheeks.

"Yet, I still express my gratitude. Has anyone mentioned how stunning you look in this exquisite attire?" my father inquired, admiring her outfit.

"Yes, somewhat. My husband has already shared kind words, but an additional compliment from my father-in-law is certainly cherished," my wife chimed in.

"Is it that one? Come on, turn around for me," my father insisted, playfully spraying my wife with some currencies as she gracefully twirled showcasing  her adire aso-oke luxury bubu from Rhonkefella Collections.

"Thank you, Daddy," Yadah said, gracefully genuflecting to show her appreciation.

"Anything for my daughter," my father stated with a warm smile.

“Won't you share your money with me?" I teased with a playful grin.

"No, I won't," she responded, joining in the joke.

"Have you forgotten God loves a cheerful giver?" I continued the playful banter.

"God knows this cheerful giver has tried, and if she doesn't give you this one, it's not a sin," she quipped, tucking the money into her cedar brown purse as she settled down on a seat beside me.

"Baba Yele, there you are," my aunt's joyful exclamation filled the canopy as she walked in on us. Her tall and commanding presence, draped in a sequin-beaded green lace iro and buba, shimmered with elegance. Gold bangles adorned her wrists, and an Ice Rhinestone  golden wristwatch added a touch of sophistication. Huge gold earrings gracefully adorned her ears, framing a visage where subtle hues and skillfully applied makeup accentuated her features.The striking part was the vivid semblance of her very dark complexion and her made-up face to that of my late mother. It was a poignant connection that transcended generations, a living tribute echoing through the carefully crafted details of her appearance. 

"Ibiyems, sorry for coming late; the traffic was to blame," I heard my dad apologize, as he addressed my aunt by her nickname.

"No problem, as long as you didn't miss it," she stated with a firm nod and unwavering gaze. 

"Molawa had called to let me know he would be late," she added.

Trust Molawa, always her puppet.

"And you, Yadah," my aunt said, her voice sharp as she turned to her with a critical eye. "Just when I wanted to mingle with my friends, you disappeared. Even though you're not cradling a child of your own at this joyful event, or do you have one on the way? The least you could do is engage in activities that attract children to you."

Yadah’s eyes widened, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. I clenched my fists, feeling a rush of anger at my aunt's unnecessary and insensitive words.

"Have you forgotten 'Ori omo lope omo waye,' meaning ‘a child's head summons another child into this world?”

 “What you're doing, which you think is for my sake, is not about me. I'm only doing this out of love for my nephew, your husband, because I believe no child from my lineage is barren or impotent. Murewa is a testament to that—two children within three years of marriage to Cordelia."

As fury built up inside me, on the brink of boiling over, Yadah's firm grip on my hand acted as a steadfast restraint, silently urging me to contain my emotions rather than lashing out in the heat of the moment.

"I apologize, Ma. I thought our tasks were complete, given the souvenirs are all distributed. Is there anything else you'd like me to assist with?" Yadah spoke, her tone and demeanor reflecting an attempt to ease the tension.

"There's nothing specific, really. Unless Cordelia comes around; perhaps she may have additional tasks for you," she responded with an air of indifference, her tone lacking enthusiasm or interest in further assistance.

"Speaking of Cordelia, isn't she the one over there?" My father pointed out, trying to change the topic an attempt to diffuse the heightened tension in the atmosphere.

"She is the one! Cordelia, Cordelia!" my aunt shouted, drawing attention to Cordelia's presence.

Acknowledging the call, the young lady, adorned in the role of the newborn's mother, turned with an alluring awareness. Her strides bore a deliberate confidence, each step echoing a subtle strut towards us. The red ensemble she wore clung provocatively to her curves, drawing attention to the intentional allure of her presence. As she approached, the atmosphere subtly shifted,  as all eyes followed her deliberate path, captivated by the blend of confidence and style.

"Hey, Ma'am," she uttered as she reached our side, addressing my aunt, who also happened to be my mother-in-law.

"Good afternoon, sir," Cordelia said, her voice flat as she glanced briefly at my father. Unlike Yadah, who had gracefully dipped in a respectful genuflect, Cordelia stood stiffly, making no move to show any form of the customary sign of respect.

"Afternoon ,my dear and Congratulations once again, Cordelia," my father exclaimed, his voice infused with genuine joy.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, the words lacking the usual sparkle, delivered with a monotone that hinted at an off-air tone, as if the excitement had been replaced by a subdued demeanor.

"How is our baby?" my wife inquired about the newborn.

"She's fine, currently napping. You know she shouldn't be in this noisy environment; it's not good for her. You wouldn't know much about babies, that's why you should try to be a mother very soon. The clock is ticking," she uttered, feigning a smile. Her words drifted out with a nasally quality, each sound passing through the confines of her nostrils, creating a distinct and somewhat pinched tone. 

Meanwhile, she emphasized the urgency with an audible imitation of a ticking clock, tapping her overly long fixed artificial nails in a rhythmic fashion.

"I beg your pardon," I chipped in, my gaze cutting through the air like a sharpened blade, a silent but pointed expression of my displeasure.

“Chill Bro, don't take offense at my words, Sorry if my words come across as too harsh. I was just trying to offer some friendly and sisterly advice," she replied, adopting a defensive tone.

"Thanks for your unwarranted advice, but I would appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself," I interjected.

"Think it's high time my wife and I left this hostile environment—enough for their frolicking humiliation today," I thought as I closed my eyes in disbelief ,after hearing different versions of derogatory words from mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, indeed peas in the same pod.

"And where is Murewa, the father of the newborn?" my father chipped in, as is his usual custom, redirecting the conversation to diffuse the heightened tension.

"Here I am," echoed my cousin's voice as he stood beside his wife, a confident hand securing her waist. I pondered the swiftness with which he had navigated through the crowd to join us.

As he stood, I could perceive a hint of alcohol on him, so typical of him on this  special day of his.

"My guy, I'm so glad about this beautiful gift God has bestowed upon you and your wife,Congratulations once again," my father expressed warmly, extending a firm handshake to my cousin and a gentle hug to his wife.

"It is indeed a big blessing, Uncle. Within three years, God has been merciful to bless me with two healthy baby girls. What more can I do than be grateful to God? I know you can't wait to be blessed with this kind of joy," Murewa remarked, his tone carrying a hint of pride as he subtly alluded to his own good fortune.

"Yes, but in God's time," my father responded with calm assurance.

"God's time, Uncle? Is that the mantra they're preaching to you?" he laughed mockingly, casting a subtle glance at me and Yadah. His laughter carried an air of derision, echoing through the tent.

"Uncle, we have always been advised that we should make hay while the sun shines, and now my sun is shining, and I am making hay. I have come to learn that it is not about owning one gigantic house in Banana Island, nor is it about driving luxury cars that make you a reputable man in society. There are more important things than those vanities, such as having healthy children while your vitality is still intact," Murewa proclaimed, his words infused with a deep sense of achievement and pride.

"What kind of words are you spouting from that mouth of yours?" my aunt interjected, chiding him. I smiled, knowing without a doubt that my cousin was indirectly referring to me. “I need to leave this place this instant," not willing to engage in this game of comparisons.

"Aunty, Daddy, my wife and I will be taking our leave now; we have some urgent places to visit," I announced, rising with my wife, indicating our departure. "Murewa, please convey my regards to your little ones. We'll stay in touch with you both," I added, hugging him, while my wife warmly held Cordelia's hand, disregarding the disapproving glances from the couple.

 

"Not so fast. When did you guys even arrive that you're leaving already?" my aunt interjected?

 "As I mentioned, we have other urgent places to visit.” I uttered, exiting the canopy tent with my wife.

---

"And now the day has finally come to an end" My wife uttered, tying the strings of her nightwear, as she plopped into our bed, signaling the end of the day.

"Yeah, finally it is over, what a whirlwind," I commented, swiftly stowing away my Mac tablet and anti-glare glasses in the bedside drawer. Yadah's subtle disapproval echoing in my mind. A silent agreement exists between us – the day's chaos ends when the gadgets are tucked away, ensuring our moments before sleep remain undisturbed by work.

Closing the gap on the plush bed we shared, I gently held her by the waist. "What's up?" she questioned, suspicion dancing in her eyes.

"Nothing, Nothing at all," I answered, "just savoring the joy of holding my wife or is there something wrong with that?"

Navigating how to address the elephant in the room, even though since we left Murewa's Child Naming Ceremony, she has been her casual self, I still felt there was a need to know what was going on in her soul, mind, and body concerning those hurtful words hurled at her. Yadah happens to be one person whom you will never know if something is wrong with her, except she tells you – which seems to be a blessing, as it gives this aura of a person who is cool, calm, and collected in the face of turmoil. But it could be the opposite of a blessing when it involves delicate matters such as the one we experienced today. Thus, the only way to find out how she feels is to talk about it with her.

"Babe," I implored, my gaze locked with hers, sincerity etched in my expression, "I want to sincerely apologize for the embarrassment you faced at Murewa's party today," my words hung in the air, accompanied by a gentle touch as our wedding rings embraced our intertwined fingers.

"It's fine," she replied softly, her smile speaking volumes, a subtle reassurance conveyed through the delicate patting of the back of my left hand.

"Just want to know if you're okay and if those words didn't hit too hard," I questioned, my gaze tracing the lines of her face, searching for the reassurance that hides in the subtle shifts of her expression.

Her quiet laughter rang out as she responded, "Why would I be offended by those words? You and I both know I'm not barren. Contrary to their words, we are simply not ready to start pushing babies into this world." Her words echoed our premarital agreement not to bring any children into our lives until after three years of marriage. Relief washed over me upon hearing this reaffirmation.

"Just that," she paused.

"What happened with 'just that'?" I asked, a knot of apprehension tightening in my chest at the weight of her last words.

"Hmmm, I was just pondering if it's high time we start thinking about having a baby."

"Is this thought influenced by everything that happened today?" I questioned, an indistinct yet familiar fear surging through my veins.

"Not really, but if we're being fair, the years we decided to delay starting a family have passed. I understand your caution against rushing, and waiting a few more months may be wise. However, I believe now is the right time to remove the IUD and start trying," she said, her touch on my hands conveying reassurance and affection.

"I don't think so because this suggestion of yours seems entirely prompted by what you heard today at that party. And if there's one thing I need to remind you of, it's that we both agreed our marriage and family won't be influenced by people's views or societal norms. Our pace and the word of God shape our norms," I said, gently retracting my hand from hers. My gaze shifted to the other side of the room, towards our clothing closet, underlining the significance of following our distinct journey.

A quietude enveloped our room, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioner.

"Baby, I don't believe we should make life-altering decisions based on what people say or even on our families' opinions.” I said, breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

“Bringing a baby into this world should be a decision fueled by our intent, not swayed by external judgments. You know me; I'm not the kind of guy who jumps into things just because someone else thinks they know where my life should go. And you, as my woman, I believe you're not that kind of person either," I expressed, locking eyes with her, gauging the impact of my words.

"We both have plans for what we want to establish before welcoming any little one," I conveyed, a subtle plea woven into my gaze, silently encouraging a temporary shift away from this topic.

"But we've already accomplished some of those goals," she replied, acknowledging our shared achievements.

"Thank God you said 'some,' indicating we haven't achieved all. Yadah, we're both goal-getters, and even a tiny setback in reaching our various goals leaves us with regrets. It shouldn't be the case, and I don't want us passing any sense of failure on to our kids. We shouldn't decide to bring them into the world based on people's opinions. In a year or two, we would have achieved these goals," I conveyed, my words carrying the weight of conviction.

"Do you understand, Babe?" I inquired, my eyes maintaining their connection with hers as I drew closer, enveloping her in my arms.

"Yes, I understand," she responded with a quiet assurance, her voice carrying a subdued agreement.

 "We'll welcome a baby at our own pace, guided by God's word. Is that alright?" I whispered, my lips softly meeting hers in a lingering moment. Simultaneously, my fingers delicately traced the strings of her nightwear, a romantic overture employed   to dispel the uncertainty surrounding a path I hesitated to tread with Yadah.

_______________________________________________________________

                                             YADAH’S POV

A familiar pressure hits me, stirring me out of my own portion of the blissful sleep that this terrestrial earth is entitled to give me at this hour of the night. Groggily blinking into the darkness, the need to use the bathroom becomes more persistent, a gentle but insistent nudge that I can't ignore.

"So much for the sweet sleep promised by God to His righteous ones," I muttered to myself, irritated by the urge to relieve my bladder while trying to enjoy the fulfilment of God's promise. I push myself out of the shared cocoon of blankets that has wrapped Yele and me in our blissful sleep. As my feet touch the cold floor, I hear Yele mumble some unintelligible words as he burrows deeper into the blanket.

"He’s sleep-talking again," I mused, knowing that if I ask him about it tomorrow, he’ll either want to sink into the ground out of embarrassment or playfully deny it. A slight smile spreads across my lips at the thought.

 The smile tugged more insistently at my lips as Yele clung to the blanket, wrapping it around himself like a treasured toy. His arms tightened around the fabric, and I found myself wondering if he thought he was holding me in his sleep. I didn’t know why my mind was telling me this, but if it was right, the gesture was endearing, even if it seemed childish at the moment, as I made my way to the restroom.

Relief settled over me as I  walked back to bed, the air conditioner’s steady hum filling the quiet room, leaving me eager to resume the sweet sleep of the righteous.

As I lifted the blanket to cover myself, I felt a tug on the fabric, which seemed like   pulling a kite from a stubborn child.The culprit of this misdemeanour was none other than sleepy Yele, who clung to a large portion of the blanket, leaving barely enough to wrap over my body.

"Which kain problem be this?" I thought, yanking at the blanket. Yele’s grip tightened, his fingers curling more securely around the fabric as I struggled to wrestle it free.

"Yadah, let me cuddle you nau," Yele murmured, his words slurred and his voice thick with the dreamy haze of slumber as he clutched the blanket tighter, lost in his dream.

“Welp! My instinct was right. If my mind were a separate person, I’d have handed him a hundred dollars right now,” I mused, glancing at the figure beside me, the man I called my husband.

I gently pried the blanket from his tight grip, speaking softly, almost like a whispering ASMR artist. “Baby, the blanket isn’t your wife; I am.”

He mumbled without opening his eyes, his voice heavy with sleep, “But… blanket so warm…”

“Absolutely sure, my darling husband,” I said, finally drawing the blanket over to my side. With a contented sigh, I nestled in, victorious in my silent struggle with a man lost in the depths of sleep.

Staring at his innocent face bathed in sleep, I felt a chuckle rise but clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle it. Yele, normally so commanding, was curled up and clutching the blanket like a child. Just hours ago, this same man had been passionately devoted in our bed, a space sacred to the institution of marriage. I covered my face, the contrast between his powerful waking self and his endearing, baby-like sleep making me blush with amusement and embarrassment.

As I turned to look at his face again, with no trace of embarrassment this time, I was captivated by his features. His rich brown skin had a smooth, sculpted quality, and his well-groomed beard accentuated the strong line of his jaw. The gentle curve of his lips, relaxed in sleep, softened his otherwise rugged visage, creating an unexpectedly serene portrait. This face, which drew me to gently trace his beard, had worn many masks over time. To me, it was a canvas of affection, but to Aunt Ibiyemi, it was a fortress of stubborn, scowling defiance. My mind drifted back to how his expression had hardened into that familiar frown  at Murewa's child christening towards Aunt Ibiyemi.

"I do not think it was proper for us to leave the ceremony that way,”I had uttered as we drove back home, my words slicing through the tense silence that had followed us from the gathering.

 "So I should have folded my hands and watched as they continued to berate you over something as minute as having a child?" The moment the words left Yele's mouth, something inside me winced and the word "minute" hung in the air like an unwanted guest.Even as I lay beside him with my eyes fixed on his peaceful, sleeping face, the sting of his choice of words still prickled at my heart.

Yes, we had both agreed to wait four years before starting a family. It was one of the reasons I felt lucky to have Yele—a man who didn’t feel the pressure to rush into parenthood right after we exchanged vows. Back when we were courting, Yele would speak with such conviction about not wanting me to lose myself in the roles society expected me to play, especially as his wife. He often talked about how we shouldn’t rush into having children, and his arguments resonated deeply with me. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense—when I looked around at the world, the state of the economy, and the sheer weight of responsibilities, starting a family right away seemed like a delicate balance of spinning plates.

I had seen it firsthand in my own upbringing. My parents’ lives had revolved entirely around us, their children. It was as if, once we were born, they forgot how to be a couple. My mother was always caught up in our lives, and my father was no different. They seemed to breathe through us, living for us, and nothing else. I didn’t want that for my marriage.

Yele’s words during our courtship came back to me now. He had pointed out that, even though we were together, we didn’t truly know each other yet. The four-year plan wasn’t just about delaying children; it was about us—building our bond, understanding each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and deepening our friendship and love before we brought children into the mix. He had also suggested that we use this time to chase our personal goals, both in our careers and personal development.All of this made perfect sense to me, and I’d accomplished a lot in those years. But now, the time had passed, and here we were, with Yele still intent on delaying parenthood, much to the chagrin of his family—and most especially Aunt Ibiyemi.

Those four years had been anything but easy, with questions lurking behind every conversation, each one a thinly veiled interrogation. From the moment I stepped into the Mrs. club, the constant hum of curiosity about when I'd become a mother was inescapable, coming from the well-meaning and the tactless alike.

"Yadah, I just want to ask, oh—did you experience any miscarriage?" Aunt Ibiyemi’s voice, casual yet probing, pierced the air just six months after our wedding.

I forced a smile, though my chest tightened. "No, ma... nothing like that."

Her brow furrowed as she studied me, then she waved a hand in front of her belly as if tracing an invisible curve. "Then if no miscarriage, what are you two waiting for? Six months now—we should be seeing something by now."

Her words landed heavily, but I kept my face neutral, even as shock rippled through me. The absurdity of her assumption—jumping straight to miscarriage—left me speechless. But I buried the urge to react, recalling the lessons ingrained by my two older sisters and my mother: tread carefully with your husband’s family. 

Yele's dad’s words echoed in my mind: “Yadah, I do not want you upset about what transpired today.”

"It's fine, sir," I had said, clenching the phone tighter, feeling the warmth of the receiver against my ear as I kept my voice measured and calm. "She was just worried, even if it came out a bit harsh.”

"I understand, sir," I added,reassuring  him.

Marrying my heartthrob hasn’t exactly come with all the perks one might imagine—especially when it comes to dealing with Yele’s side of the family,They had  some with their  own tangled strings.  I entered this marriage only to discover that Yele and his late mother’s identical twin aren’t exactly the best of friends, something I still hope might change one day. The tension between them was palpable, and despite my hopes, Yele’s resistance to her wasn’t still fading.When I asked why, his jaw  had clenched, and he’d said she didn’t just invade his space; she smothered it and that of the entire family.To him, her behaviour was hypocritical, especially since she wasn’t even present at her twin sister’s funeral and had disappeared for years—only reappearing after his dad remarried. 

 “She’s the last link to their mother,”My father-in-law, with his hopeful calls, would say painting me as the bridge between the broken ties.

“Help me to help your husband understand  that she’s the only representation he and his younger brother have of their late mother, so he should revere her,” My father-in-law would say  as if I could somehow stitch together years of resentment with a few kind words. Each time I heard it, I felt like I was being handed a puzzle piece from a box with no edges, expected to create a picture I couldn’t quite see.

“You’re his wife now—and in some ways, his mother,” my eldest sister had said, not long after I’d introduced Yele to the family.

“What do you mean?” I’d asked, confused but eager to understand.

Her eyes softened as she explained, “There will be times when he’ll look to you for the comfort he’s missed since losing his mom. Men might act tough, but they need nurturing. When a man loses his mother early, that need for maternal affection doesn’t disappear—it just shifts to his wife,the next place he’ll seek it is from his wife, even if he has a stepmother,” my eldest sister had explained.

“And don’t go being a strong-headed woman in his house. Two rams can’t exist in the same house,” my mum had sternly warned me in the days leading up to my wedding.

And here I was, filling roles I wasn’t sure I was ready for. The weight of expectation pressed down on me, making it hard to speak up against Yele’s wishes, even when it came to delaying parenthood. He was right, of course—we needed to focus on our goals before yielding to the pressures of starting a family. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being pulled in too many directions, expected to be more than just a wife.

I sighed, sinking back into the sheets, trying to find peace in the slivers of night still left, even as the words of my family and my own thoughts whirled in my mind.