Chapter 1: The Night Everything Broke

My wife boss use company get-together as excuse carry her go karaoke—drag her waka till almost 2am before she fit reach house. For that karaoke joint, generator dey roar outside, pepper soup smell dey mix with beer for air, and all the big men dey shout like dem dey for beer parlour.

E get as this kain thing dey be for Lagos, especially for all these big offices. The so-called 'get-together' just na coded way wey oga dey use press people anyhow. And for woman like my wife, she no dey like waka late, but when boss call, wetin she go do? Dem dey fear to lose their job. So, she force herself go, wear small smile, even though her heart dey heavy. She look her phone, sigh, then whisper small prayer: "God, abeg, protect me for this night." For karaoke place, na so dem dey force people to sing and drink, dey shout anyhow—sometimes e dey look like dem dey use style dey test person.

In the middle of the night, she swallow full bottle sleeping pill, close eye for midnight—no wake up again.

Na so this life be. For midnight, while everybody dey sleep, the wahala wey she carry for mind just too much. She just waka softly, no noise, just like say breeze blow candle light off. That kain pain, na only person wey don see am go understand. As morning break, everywhere just quiet. Her phone dey ring, she no pick. The whole house cold. Even mosquito no dey buzz that morning—everywhere just dey heavy.

Under her pillow, she left a suicide note—a few short lines, quietly pouring out the pain and injustice she carried in her heart.

That note, e short, but the weight heavy like stone for my chest. For that moment, I realise say she dey suffer pass wetin she show. Sometimes person go dey laugh with you, but inside, na tears dey flow. The way she arrange the words, e show say she don tire for this life wahala.

1

Brother Segun, I’m sorry, but I have to go first.

As I read that line, my hand dey shake. Tears begin gather for my eye. My chest dey drum like generator wey no wan start. How woman wey I love reach heaven go just waka comot like that? For my mind, I dey remember the small-small moments wey we share—her laughter, the way she dey arrange food for table, even the way she dey vex when NEPA take light.

I no fit face you again, but abeg, always remember, I go love you till the end.

Her handwriting small, almost like say her hand dey tremble as she dey write. The love wey she carry for me, e dey clear for that paper. For my mind, I dey imagine how she take struggle to finish the note, how her heart dey bleed as she dey write the last line.

If you fit, abeg help me find justice—no let my story just end like this.

That 'justice'—e loud for my ear like generator for midnight. For this Naija, e hard to find justice, but as I dey look the note, I know say I no fit sleep until I try. She dey beg me make I fight for am, no let her story just end like that. E pain me, but e ginger me too.

Police enter with their wahala, dey ask all those regular questions. "Oga, na how she take die? Wetin una quarrel about before?" Their eyes sharp, but I sabi say for this Lagos, unless you get connection, nobody go really push the matter. Mortuary men just dey do their work, dey wrap her body like say she be parcel. Before I blink finish, na so we do burial. No time to even breathe or understand wetin happen. Her family dey cry, neighbours dey talk in low voice, but life just dey move. Her people bring white cloth, pastor pray quick, neighbours spray sand for grave—rain dey fall small, like say even sky dey cry.

The note, I hide am for my chest pocket. I no fit give anybody, not even her people. Dem fit talk say na lie, or make police begin disturb me. For Naija, if you no sharp, your matter fit turn another thing. So I keep am, like say na my only secret for this world.

Every night, I dey ask myself that question. Wetin she see wey make her shame too much to face me? My mind dey race. Maybe she feel say she let me down, or she no wan make I see her as person wey weak. But I know my wife—she stubborn, she no dey give up anyhow. For her to write am, e mean say wetin happen bad pass wetin I fit imagine.

I swear, if you dey this Lagos, you go sabi wetin dey. All these office wahala, women dey suffer things wey dem no fit talk. My chest dey tight as I dey reason everything. Na only God know how many other women dey go through the same thing.

As I dey reason the matter, I dey remember all those times she come back from work, eyes red, face dull. Sometimes she talk say she dey tired, other times she just go sleep without even chop. That night matter, everything just join for my head like jollof rice wey dem cook too done.

My hand dey shake as I dey scroll her WhatsApp. I dey see messages from people for work, but na two names stand out. My heart dey race, I dey press phone like say my life depend on am. For Naija, once you fit get small clue, you fit follow am reach anywhere.

Dem no even hide am. Their names just dey there, dey shine. These be the kind men wey dey wear big suit, dey use company car waka anyhow, dey feel say nobody fit touch them. I just dey boil for body.

As I dey hold the phone, new message drop. My blood just dey hot. These kain message dey show say person no even get shame.

Finance Director Mr. Sani: "Why you never show face for work these past two days? That night, we play you reach that level?"

I vex. The arrogance for the message dey too much. He dey talk like say nothing happen, like say my wife be just one plaything. I grip my phone tight, almost want break am. Lagos people dey wicked sometimes.

As I dey type, my hand no steady. If not for God, I for curse am join. But I wan use sense, make I see how the matter go play. For Naija, you gats use wisdom, or person fit enter trouble.

He send reply quick. The pride for his words dey like Egusi soup wey get too much oil. He dey feel on top of the world, no sabi say wahala dey wait am. I just look the message, hiss.

I no waste time. Early morning sun dey shine, but my mind dey dark. As I dey stand for outside the building, I dey watch people waka pass—some dey hurry go work, some dey buy akara for roadside, some dey greet security. But my own mission different.

Gbagam! One man land from keke, carry small bag. E be like say everybody dey mind their business for Lagos, nobody go look you twice. But me, I dey watch every move. I dey sure say person wey I dey wait for don land.

He tall, get broad shoulders, but him face white like chalk. As he see me, he greet quick: "Brother Segun."

I nod.

Musa no be ordinary person. E get as we take meet, and since then, e be like say fate join us together. Even though e dey look strong, sickness don show for him face. But him eyes dey sharp, like soldier wey never lose battle. For this matter, na only person I fit trust.

We use service staircase, dey dodge CCTV. Elevator no too safe for people wey get mind do wetin we wan do. As we climb, nobody ask us question. Lagos people no dey too look face, especially if you dey look busy.

The breeze for rooftop dey blow, sun dey rise small. When the door open, I see the shine for his shoe and the waka wey dey show say he get money. Na so all these big men be—dem dey feel say na dem own the whole world.

I recognise am straight: Mr. Sani. This yeye, arrogant man dey always post selfie for him Facebook.

As he enter, he pause, adjust him suit, look around like person wey dey find police checkpoint. He dey look left and right, as if he dey expect to see party or crowd. But silence full everywhere, na only us. He resemble those men wey dey take picture for every occasion, dey put am for social media to show say dem dey enjoy life.

He no even know say na him own wahala dey start. He dey mutter like person wey miss lotto numbers. For my mind, I dey swear for am. Lagos breeze carry him voice, but the meaning no lost for me.

Musa sharp die. Before the man fit blink, tape don cover mouth. Na so street boys dey move for Lagos—no time for long talk.