CHAPTER 10

 

     CHAPTER 10

The rim of the glass felt cool against my fingertips as I traced it slowly, the scent of mint and lime rising with each idle swirl of my virgin mojito. I took in the quiet hum of the hotel lounge as I leaned back in the soft armchair, the muffled chatter from distant conversations blending into the soft clinking of glasses.

The energy from our Bromance in Christ meetup had faded, leaving the room behind me dark and still, like the echo of something powerful yet fleeting. Across the room, shadows stretched from the dim lighting, long and lazy, as if the night itself had settled into the lounge to wait with me. I lifted the glass to my lips, the cold tang of lime teasing my tongue as the drink slid down smooth, easing away the tightness that had clung to me all day.

Jire’s words from earlier replayed in my head: "Wait for me. I won’t be long." But time felt like it was stretching with each glance at the clock. He was still holed up with Lotanna and the other execs, probably knee-deep in discussions that always seemed to carry a certain weight. I wasn’t in a rush though. I let my gaze drift around the room, taking in the polished floors, the soft murmur of the hotel life going on around me, the faint scent of wood and leather from the furniture.

I sighed, leaning back, feeling the plush of the chair pull me in deeper. It wasn’t so bad, this waiting. In moments like these, everything else fell away, leaving just me and the quiet thoughts I’d pushed aside during the meeting. Still, curiosity lingered. What could they be talking about? I flicked a glance at the hallway where they’d disappeared, wondering how much longer I’d be left in this peaceful limbo.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I lazily traced invisible circles on my temple, my finger moving without thought. The faint coolness of the mojito lingered on my tongue, refreshing as my mind drifted. Who could’ve imagined I’d actually be here? I shook my head, almost laughing at the irony. After dodging Jire’s invites more times than I could count, I’d once thought this meetup was just another thing to shrug off. Yet here I was, barely missing a single week.

I glanced around the lounge, still replaying the moments from earlier—men leaning in, their voices steady, sharing more than just stories. The weight of God’s word seemed to hang in the air, a presence you could almost feel. Each prayer, each scripture spoken, felt like a lifeline, pulling us closer to something real. It wasn’t surface-level chatter, but something deeper—edifying, sharpening one another like iron on iron. Not the empty small talk you’d find elsewhere. No, this was different. We weren’t meeting for mundane things. Every word, every moment stirred something deeper, pushing us to be more, to believe more. It felt surreal. A gathering of men—not for sports, not for business, nor binge drinking but to stir each other up toward good works and faith. 

I took another sip, the tang of lime and mint washing over me, and felt a quiet pride swell in my chest. Men rising up, not for themselves, but for something greater. The thought flickered through my mind like a spark. Maybe that’s what Jire had seen all along—this shift, this generation of men coming together for a purpose that made heaven smile.

“Indeed, a new generation of men that will make God proud on this earth is on the rise,” I thought, the idea wrapping around me like a quiet hope.I pulled out my phone, thumb swiping through the screen aimlessly. My WhatsApp chats opened up, the familiar icons lighting up the list of unread messages. A couple stood out—quick responses, nothing too pressing. My fingers moved fast, tapping out replies, but the others? I skimmed over them, too much to handle right now. With a flick, I left them untouched.

Once done, I let out a small breath, the screen now clear of red notifications. Without thinking, I tapped into the status updates, letting the stories roll by one after the other.

As I scrolled through the status updates, a soft chuckle escaped me, a meme flashing by, drawing out a smirk. Another flick, and my smile faded, replaced by a slight furrow of my brow—this one hit deeper, a post on life's truths that had me pausing, thinking. My thumb moved again, and a small smile crept onto my lips. There she was, a face I’d recognize anywhere—the one that always made my heart skip, even on the screen. Her eyes, her smile... my wife.

This time, my grin stretched wider. It wasn't just her usual warm smile that lit up her eyes; it was everything about the picture. She stood tall, exuding grace, her curly bob wig perfectly framing her face. The emerald green and gold floral brocade of her high-neck pencil dress hugged her figure, its structured shoulders accentuating her poise. Every detail whispered elegance, capturing my heart all over again.

I recognized the dress from yesterday, the same one she wore to work, and I had thought she looked beautiful then. But seeing it in her status made my praise feel utterly insufficient. What in the world was this beauty before me? I leaned closer, my eyes roaming from her radiant smile down to the way the dress hugged her figure, every seam tailored to perfection.

 The burgundy ombre nails caught my attention, each one a little work of art, and those pointed toe pumps? They added a chic elegance that turned the whole outfit into a masterpiece. My heart raced—she was stunning, and it felt like she had just elevated her beauty to another level.

"Looks like I need to pay another bride price," I typed, my fingers moving before my brain could catch up, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth as I hit send.

It’s not like Yadah didn’t always dress well—she did. But over the past few months, something has shifted. Her style, her attention to detail, everything about her seemed more intentional. It wasn’t just her outfits, though. It felt like every part of our marriage had deepened—our love life, the way we connected—and somehow, that change had spilled over into her wardrobe, too.

Do I like what I see? Absolutely. I love it, especially since she’s not crossing any lines—nothing revealing, always knowing what’s appropriate for the public and what’s reserved for the privacy of our bedroom. No issue there. What leaves me astonished is the shift. I’ve seen this woman change so many times in our five years of marriage, it almost feels like I’m meeting her again.

I remember her as the outspoken, bold woman who first caught my attention, the one who held her own in any situation. But after marriage, she started pulling back—keeping her voice down. It bothered me, no, it frustrated me. Aunt Ibiyemi’s harsh words echoed in my head, reminders of times she belittled Yadah, and I couldn’t help but get pissed. Was marriage really changing her, stripping away the very parts of her I fell in love with?

It wasn’t just her voice that changed. The way she addressed certain things became...different. When I pointed it out, she’d give me the standard response: "I’m a married woman now; this is how I should act." Sure, I get that. I’m not against adapting to marriage, but I didn’t want her losing herself in the process.

But now, looking at this picture of her on my screen, I see the old Yadah again—only more. There’s boldness in her again, a spark, as if she’s reclaiming herself, and adding layers to who she’s becoming. She was becoming something greater—reclaiming the boldness she once had, and it was making me look twice, realizing she wasn’t done evolving yet. 

Just that, this evolution was more than I had anticipated, something deeper, almost like there was an unseen force behind it. Something had shifted in Yadah, something I couldn’t quite pin down. Lately, in our quiet moments—the ones where words didn’t need to fill the space—there was a newfound spark in her eyes, a boldness that spilled into everything. I couldn’t quite name it, but it was as if she had unlocked a part of herself she had kept hidden for too long. It was both familiar and unfamiliar, like I was seeing her with new eyes, and yet it was the same woman I had always known. And this has stirred curiosity in me, a nagging question I couldn’t quite answer: where was this coming from?

Who—or what—was behind this quiet transformation? The answer seemed just out of reach, like a word on the tip of my tongue that refused to form.

I lifted my head from my phone, catching movement in the corner of my eye. There they were—Jire and Lotanna—walking toward me with that easy stride of theirs, like they’d just finished discussing some weighty matters. 

I slipped my phone into my pocket, eyes following their approach. Behind them, the remaining four men from the meeting were already making their way out, offering a few waves and nods from afar as they headed to the exit. Their “goodbyes” echoed in the air, each one a reminder of the brotherhood we had just shared. I gave them a nod in return, watching as they disappeared one by one, leaving behind the lingering sense of camaraderie.

"My one and only friend," Jire's voice rang out, just before I felt his arms wrap around me in an unexpected embrace from behind.

My eyes widened, and I threw him a side glance, raising my brows in mock surprise. He chuckled at my reaction. Lotanna stood there, watching us with a soft grin, shaking his head slightly at our antics.

“Why the look?” Jire teased, his voice laced with laughter. I blinked deliberately, fluttering my lashes like I was in some over-the-top drama. He caught it instantly, his grin spreading wider, a chuckle escaping as he watched my exaggerated expression.

“Why wouldn’t I give you such a look when you’re hugging me like that, as if there’s something more going on between us?” I replied, feigning an exaggerated gasp. I glanced around, gesturing toward the glaring CCTV camera mounted above us and the few patrons scattered throughout the lounge. 

“Abeg, I take God beg you, I’m a married man, and you can see the cameras watching. Don’t let anyone catch us and use me for their online shine, oh,” I added with a smirk, shaking my head playfully.

“Only one person gets to hug me like that, and that’s my one and only wife,” I said, letting a playful smirk tug at the corners of my mouth. I straightened up, my posture shifting slightly as I shot Jire a mock-serious glare, raising an eyebrow for effect. The lightness in my voice contrasted with the warmth of my gaze, an unspoken promise of loyalty lingering in the air.

“Sir,” Jire called over to Lotanna, his tone mock-serious. “Can you see one of the things I endure at the hands of this man?” He threw his hands up, a playful exasperation lighting up his face. “One of the reasons I’m always grateful to God that I’m married, because if not, this guy for don use intimidation finish me!” He gestured dramatically, his voice rising as he delivered the punchline in a thick Pidgin accent, causing a few heads to turn in our direction.

“And look, sir!” Jire leaned closer to Lotanna, his expression gleeful. “I got married before him. I’m the senior in this marriage game, and yet he acts like he’s the one schooling me!” His laughter rang out, contagious and bright, as he shot me a teasing glance, the camaraderie between us palpable. I couldn’t help but chuckle, the lighthearted banter weaving a warm atmosphere around us.

“Look at the way the two of you are making me jealous for not having this kind of friendship earlier in my life,” Lotanna remarked, a teasing grin spreading across his face as he glanced between Jire and me. “I think right now I need to write an application to join this friendship of yours!” His tone was light, but the warmth in his eyes showed how much he valued the bond we shared.

Jire laughed, leaning back slightly, hands raised in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, sir! There’s always room for one more in our little circle!” He flashed a broad smile, making the moment feel even more inviting.

I chuckled, the connection between us buzzing in the air, a reminder of the brotherhood we were building. It felt good, sharing this lightness, surrounded by men who understood the importance of friendship and faith.

“Anyways, I just came over to say thank you for waiting for Jire and sorry for any inconvenience we might cause. The meeting just had to happen impromptu,” Lotanna said earnestly, his hand giving my shoulder a friendly pat.

I smiled, shaking my head. “It’s okay, sir, really. No problem at all.” I waved a dismissive hand, trying to ease his concern. 

“Honestly, I understand completely. That meeting is far more important than any hangout we had planned. Everything you do is for our buildup.”

“Thanks for understanding,” Lotanna said, his voice tinged with sincerity as he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Alright, guys, I should head out now. Please send my regards to all the madams at home.”

He gave us a nod, his smile warm but tinged with the weight of responsibility, before turning to leave.

“Okay, sir. Good night! See you next week,” Jire and I called after him, watching as he strode away, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet lounge. I exchanged a glance with Jire, both of us feeling the absence of Lotanna's easy presence already.

Jire flopped down onto the chair, glancing at his wristwatch with a dramatic sigh. “Oga sir, I know this hangout thing isn’t happening today, looking at the time,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. He leaned forward, his eyes wide and pleading, reminiscent of a puppy caught in a rainstorm. “So, tell me, how can I make it up to you?

“Anyway, the day’s practically over,” I said, waving a hand as if to dismiss the lost time.“We’ll make up for it another time. But we should at least grab something. On days like this, I do tell Yadah not to bother cooking since she knows I will bring some food for her from our hangouts. Let’s hit the supermarket and pick up some snacks or food on the way.”

“Thanks for mentioning the supermarket,” Jire muttered, running a hand over his face with exaggerated relief. “You just saved me from sleeping outside.”

My brows lifted, curiosity piqued. “What now?”

"Kiki broke his mother’s favorite perfume bottle," Jire groaned, rubbing his temples. 

“The only way I got him out of her fiery wrath was by promising to replace it on my way home.”

"That’s a big one," I chuckled.but Jire was already counting on his fingers, brows furrowed.

"Lily’s diapers… J.J’s bubbles... and oh, Lily’s milk that I promised to get." His voice trailed off as he muttered under his breath, completely absorbed.

I glanced at him, one side of my lip curling up, amused at the sight. He looked up and caught my stare.

“What?” he asked, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes.

“Nothing, just surprised at how much you’re juggling in the parenting department. I can’t believe you’ve turned into a walking shopping list,” I teased, a grin creeping onto my face.The truth was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was miles away from ready for that kind of responsibility.The shadow of parenthood loomed over me, a constant reminder of my past. I had never experienced the chaos of bringing a child into the world myself, but the memory of my mother’s death during childbirth haunted me. Though I hadn’t witnessed her final moments, the stories echoed in my mind like whispers of dread, reminding me of the fragility of life. 

Watching Jire navigate the demands of fatherhood left me both envious and grateful. I was relieved to still have the freedom to enjoy life with Yadah, yet the weight of potential loss loomed heavy. The idea of swapping all Yadah and I enjoyed in our marriage in this period of our lives for diaper bags and tantrums seems distant. Would I ever be ready to step into those shoes? 

For now, I watched Jire with admiration, while my heart wrestled with uncertainty.

"Alaye, stay there and keep doing 'dating externship' with your wife,”Jire said, raising a brow with a teasing grin, but his voice carried weight.He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head before casting a pointed look at me. “Better enter fatherhood club quick before you go start with gray hair!”

"Abeg, let my wife and me rest for now," I said, pushing back my chair with a quiet scrape. "No space to handle that yet," I added, rising to my feet, hands sliding into my pockets as I gave him a small nod.

Jire chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a knowing grin. "Keep deceiving yourself, bro. Before you know it, space go open, and you go enter full-time fatherhood, whether you ready or not." He tapped the table lightly. "Just remember, no manual for this thing, but you’ll survive." He added,as he rose to his feet

"Guy, I appreciate it, but my wife and I are good where we are." I kept my tone light, but the moment the words left my mouth, a familiar shadow edged in. Jire’s voice faded as the old scenes stirred—the ones I’d buried deep.My feet felt steady, but my mind wasn’t as a familiar tightness began to form in my chest. Not today, I thought, pushing the thoughts down, not ready to let them unravel.

Jire nudged me with a grin, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "We all know you guys are doing just fine, but come on, we can't wait to see a little Yadah or Yele running wild! Omo, I’m ready to be the cool uncle, spoiling your kids while you try to keep up. Just picture it—perfect mix of beauty and trouble. Don't keep us hanging for too long, bro," he teased, though his eagerness for us to step into parenthood was more than clear beneath the banter.

I shook my head, grinning as I stood up and grabbed my phone. "Alright, let’s get out of here before you come up with more ways to ruin my peaceful life."

Jire laughed, slinging an arm over my shoulder as we made our way to the exit. 

"You know me, I’m just getting you ready for the real deal. It’s all love, bro.”

As we stepped out into the cool night air, his words floated around me, but they barely registered. My steps were steady, but the tightness in my chest hadn’t loosened. I offered a half-smile at his jokes, but my mind was elsewhere, where his excitement and my silence met in a quiet tension I wasn’t ready to unpack.

                      YADAH’S POV  

I kneel on the couch, peering through the parted curtains, heart racing as I spot Yele's car rolling into the driveway. His figure emerges, and I squint, trying to catch a glimpse of what he’s holding. Is it the food he promised? 

My pulse quickens at the thought, and I rise to my feet, the silky fabric of my mulberry nightie gliding over my legs with each movement, the robe trailing behind like a whisper.I can't help but let my fingers dance over the delicate fabric, a nervous habit I’ve picked up.Will he like what he sees? I bite my lip, the question swirling in my mind, while a flutter of anticipation tinges the air around me.

This plan has to work. Each carefully crafted move I’ve made over the past month has gone unnoticed, with Yele delighting in every surprise, unaware of the deeper purpose. Yet the results I’ve been hoping for remain elusive. 

The quiet expectation after each of our late-night moments together has dissolved into disappointment—another test showing a single line, another silent ache I can’t shake.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Bodisere had reassured me, but her words only fueled my determination. I have to try harder.

With every soft thud of his footsteps drawing nearer, my heartbeat.As the smart lock beeps, I cast one last glance at my outfit, the lace trim shimmering in the dim light, a silent promise of what I hope to achieve tonight.

"Hello, wifey," Yele's voice lingered in the air as he stepped inside, eyes sweeping over me.                                       

“Hey, love. Welcome,” I said. His gaze moved slowly, like he was piecing something together, his brow creasing just a little. He didn’t respond immediately—just stared, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile but didn’t seem like displeasure either. His eyes flicked from my robe back to my face, and my heart skipped. A silent question hung between us. I stood there, resisting the urge to fidget, but the subtle change in his expression made me wonder—had I hit or missed the mark?

My pulse quickened, but I curved my lips into a casual smile. “Earth to Yele,” I teased, trying to shake him from whatever held him captive.

I shifted, the subtle rustle of my robe filling the silence. My eyes flicked past him, out the window, pretending to search for something on the quiet street beyond. “So, what caught your attention? The dinner… or maybe something else out there?” I asked, keeping my tone playful, though the slight flutter in my chest gave me away. I stayed silent about the outfit, letting his gaze do the talking, a part of me waiting for him to say something. His quiet lingered, thick and unreadable, while I stood there, pretending the question wasn’t pressing on my mind.

The subtle hint of oud from my perfume swirled between us, but his silence still weighed heavily. I couldn’t tell if I’d managed to draw him in or if he was just lost in his own thoughts.

 Either way, I held my ground, waiting for him to speak, to give me a clue about what was running through his head.

Yele’s lips twitched, a faint curve teasing at the corner. “Nothing,” he murmured,his tone almost quiet, like he was testing the waters.

His finger traced slow, absent circles at his temple, while his other hand held the food package—and something else, a smaller bundle I hadn’t noticed before.He stepped closer and placed the food in my hands. “Dinner, as promised,” he said.

I stayed by the door, watching as he moved toward the couch, my eyes following his every step.Something about the way he carried the second package made the air feel heavier, but I held back, letting the silence work its way between us.

“So, you’re saying nothing?” I leaned in, settling on my knees, the couch cushions dipping slightly beneath me. My voice carried a playful edge as I slid closer. “But your body’s saying a whole lot more than your mouth is.” He shifted, draping his arm behind his neck, but the tension in his muscles betrayed him.

 "So let’s scrap that ‘nothing’," I added, my tone mock-serious, hoping it would coax a reaction. I knew he could see through the act, but it was my way of testing if he’d caught on to the effort I’d put into this evening, wondering if he was wowed by the look or not.

"So, I'm busted," Yele grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender, the movement light and playful, like he'd been caught sneaking a treat.

I tilted my head, my eyes following the arc of his hands, before letting out a soft huff. My lips quirked into a smirk as I rolled my eyes, shifting my weight on the couch. "Spill the beans," I said, keeping my tone playful, but the challenge in my gaze said I wasn't letting this go easily.

"It’s about your outfit,” Yele’s words came with a slight tilt of his head, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

My heart did a quick somersault, but I kept my expression neutral, leaning back slightly as if to brace myself. “What about my outfit?” I asked, my voice steady, though inside I was tightening up, unsure if his words would align with the praise I hoped for or if they’d hit a sore spot. I shifted, trying to mask the unease creeping in, my fingers lightly brushing the fabric of my robe, an unconscious habit I didn’t want him to notice.

“I was thinking...” Yele’s words dragged, his gaze slipping sideways. “What if someone had come with me? Would it have been… fitting for you to wear that to the door?”

He didn’t look at me, his voice careful, like he was weighing each word. My fingers traced the seam of the couch, my chest tightening, though my face stayed neutral. “Well, you came alone,” I said lightly, my tone airy, but there was a subtle shift in the air, like a question still hung between us, unspoken.

“I saw you from the window, coming down alone,” I said, settling properly on the couch, adjusting my posture as the cushion sank beneath me. “If someone had been with you, trust me, I would’ve dashed inside to change into something more... appropriate. And honestly, who’s coming over to the house with you at this hour? It’s got to be, what, 8 p.m. by now?”

I straightened, crossing my legs, trying to keep my expression calm, though the quiet hum of disappointment weighed heavier than I wanted it to.

“But I guess I’ll go change now,” I said softly, rising slowly from the couch, trying to keep the disappointment from seeping into my voice. “Since it seems you’re not too thrilled with my choice of sleepwear tonight.”

I stood, moving carefully, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.

“No, wait.” His voice cut through the silence, and I felt his hand brush against mine, a gentle but firm hold, keeping me from stepping away.

I arched a brow, eyes narrowing as I studied him without a word, waiting.

"I like it," his voice dropped, softer this time. "I love your choice of nightwear." His hand slid to mine, a gentle pull coaxing me back to the couch.

Settling beside him again, I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch before I finally spoke. "So... which one is it?" My gaze flickered between him and the spot he’d tugged me to. I leaned in slightly, my voice light, but the question hung heavy between us. "The cautious earlier comment... or this?"

"This," he said, but I didn’t relax, my brows still furrowed, not buying into the sudden compliment. It felt too convenient, like he was trying to smooth things over.

He caught the look on my face and sighed, his tone shifting. "I mean it." He leaned forward a bit, his voice softer, more earnest now."I guess my thoughts weren’t lined up properly. When I walked in, I was... captivated." His voice softened at the last word, and I noticed his eyes widen slightly, as if the weight of his admission surprised even him. “But then, this random thought crept in—what if someone was with me? Would it be appropriate for them to see you in this, especially if I hadn’t warned you?"

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "But after you said what you did, I realized it wasn’t about you—it was me overthinking things. I got it wrong."

"I’m really trying to believe you," I said, narrowing my eyes a little, unsure if he was just trying to smooth things over.

"No, Yadah," he whispered, leaning in just enough to make my heart skip. "I love this outfit. I love it so much that..." He finished the sentence close to my ear, his words soft but clear, making my breath catch for a second.

"Oh, come on, Yele," I teased, my cheeks warming as I playfully nudged him. "You’re being cheeky now."

"How can I not be?" he smiled, squeezing my hands gently. "Seeing my beautiful wife in something so simple yet so stunning—what else would you expect?"

I couldn’t help but smile back, my earlier doubts fading. "Really?" I asked, my voice gentle , the playfulness giving way to something softer.

“From the wife who’d always greet me in chinos shorts and one of my oversized shirts, to this...” He paused, smiling as he looked at me. “An 'elegant' nightwear—captivating and confusing at the same time.”

I chuckled, standing up and giving a playful twirl, letting the soft fabric sway. "So, moving from chinos and baggy shirts to this, is it really that bad?"

“No, babe,” he said quickly, his voice sincere. “It's not bad at all. In fact, I love it.” He reached for the other package he’d been holding. “Which is why I got you this.”

I sank back onto the couch, curiosity bubbling up as I flipped the package open. Inside was a sleek bottle of perfume.

"Aww, thanks, hun," I said, holding it up with a grin, my fingers running over the smooth glass.

“I love it,” I replied, even though I hadn’t smelled it yet. But his gesture was enough to warm my heart.

“This is part of the change I’ve noticed in you,” he teased. “I used to be the fraghead around here, but it seems like you’re about to take that title from me. Every morning now, I wake up to a new, pleasant scent on you.”

I smiled at that, feeling the joy of his attention and the subtle shift between us.

Yele had always been the one obsessed with perfumes. When we got married, his collection was so impressive that I stopped bothering to buy any for myself. What was the point? My husband was practically a curator of body fragrance gems. But lately, with how things have shifted, I had to step up my game and dive all in.

"So, I got Dad's message about the upcoming wedding ceremony of one of my distant cousins from my mom's side," Yele said, his tone casual but the crease in his brow betraying a hint of concern.

I shook my head, a resolute expression hardening my features. "We're not going," I declared, catching the flicker of surprise that darted across his face like a shadow.

He blinked, clearly taken aback. "You received his message too?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his interest piqued.

I nodded, crossing my arms defensively. "And Aunt Ibiyemi has sent me a mountain of voice notes about it." I paused, letting the weight of my words settle in the space between us. "But like I said, we’re not going. Or do you want to?" I probed, tilting my head to study his expression, noting the way his eyes widened in disbelief.

“If I had my way, no,” he replied, his gaze steady on me. “But I thought you would have loved to go, considering you always seem open to family events.”

His eyes searched mine, trying to gauge my reaction, and I could feel the weight of his expectations hanging in the air.

“Yeah, I know, but not this time around,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. Yele’s brows shot up, surprise painting his features as he turned to face me, folding his legs beneath him on the couch. My words hung between us, heavy and unexpected. “Like you said, it’s about a distant cousin—someone I don’t even know, and I doubt you do either. Honestly, a monetary gift would be more appreciated than our presence.”

He leaned forward slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What happened, Yadah? What changed?” The playful challenge in his voice only intensified my resolve.

I took a deep breath, the familiar tension rising in my chest. I had always relished attending every Cardoso family event, despite the way Aunt Ibiyemi would often measure my worth with her prying questions about children and snide remarks. I forced a smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Nothing,” I replied, my voice steadier now. “I just think it’s high time we prioritize which family events we attend. We don’t need to be available for everything.” The words spilled out, sharper than I had meant, but the frustration simmered just below the surface.

“And I think we could use that day for something better,” I said, a spark igniting in my chest as I leaned forward, my excitement spilling over. “How about a date? It’s been too long since we had some fun together.” I caught the flicker of interest in Yele’s eyes, and my heart raced. “Or we could just catch up on some quality time. You know, something more meaningful.”

A playful glimmer danced in my gaze as I added, “And finally, I could, you know, you know…” My words trailed off, the teasing smile on my lips revealing the real reason I wanted to avoid the family event. I wanted Aunt Ibiyemi to see me next with news of my pregnancy, and the thought sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“Ah, you’re a bad girl! What have you done to my wife?” Yele gasped, his hand clutching his chest in mock dismay, his playful tone making me giggle.

“Nothing, oh! I’m still the same normal Yadah,” I replied, trying to sound innocent but failing as laughter bubbled up inside me.

“I doubt that,” he shot back, his lips curving into a teasing smile that made my heart skip.

“Anyway, while you’re still caught up in your doubts, let me heat this meal,” I said, lowering my voice as I leaned closer, mimicking his earlier whisper. “Then we can—”

“Jesus! I cover my ears and mind with the blood of Jesus!” He pretended to panic, dramatically covering his ears with his hands, causing me to burst into laughter. The sound filled the room, warm and light as I headed toward the kitchen, feeling the warmth of our banter wrap around me like a cozy blanket.