Chapter 1:

“So, five years don waka, you still never fit let am go?”

Her voice soft, but e cut pass razor. My ex-wife, Aunty Halima, blow small breeze on top her hot coffee, her eyes full with plenty feelings as she look me.

She stir her coffee, eye dey ground, like she dey find answer inside cup. I see the tiredness for her face—fine lines, stress mark wey pain pass make-up. Her hair dey tie with Ankara scarf, but no joy for the knot. Na only person wey don cry tire dey get that kain look.

Before I know am, time don draw plenty lines for her face too.

Even her laugh line wey used to dey bright now don bend like express road wey tanker don spoil. I remember the first time I see her for university, her teeth dey white like Egusi seed. Now, sorrow don change her.

Na the same matter wey make us separate she carry come again.

I sigh as I remember. This wound never heal. E be like say our marriage na victim too. Once she show, na this same talk we dey circle round.

Years back, our family dey happy.

Our Sunday dey full with laughter—Ifedike go dance Azonto for parlour, Halima go clap, I go record. Our photo album dey show Christmas for grandma side, Eid celebration, new school bag, all of us wear matching lace.

Both of us get work, dey relate well with our parents, and we get one healthy, chubby pikin.

If you see Ifedike that time, na round cheeks, always dey ask, 'Mummy, when jollof rice ready?' My mama go always tap him head, 'This one go grow big like your papa.'

That time, na praise and envy we dey hear from family and friends.

Even our neighbours dey yarn, 'See as una dey do. God don bless una.' Sometimes, small jealousy dey their voice, but who go blame dem? We dey shine small.

Me sef think say the three of us go just dey live like that, peaceful.

I dey plan future for head. Make I buy plot of land, start house for Gwarinpa, train Ifedike go university. I dey imagine am as engineer, maybe even travel abroad. Life sweet that period.

But five years ago today, everything scatter.

Na so gbedu spoil. One phone call, one wrong move—na im turn joy to ashes. I remember the date like National ID number.

Something happen wey till now, I no fit look back remember.

Every time I try recall, my heart dey beat fast, like drum for village festival. I dey dodge the memory, but e dey chase me everywhere I go. E pain pass.