Chapter 2: A Goodbye and a New Beginning

Inside Ayo Hall, you could hear a pin drop. The blue curtains hung heavy, sunlight too weak to chase away the gloom. Paint peeled from the corridor walls, and the faint smell of ogiri soup drifted from the kitchen. Ceiling fans turned lazily, doing little against the Makurdi heat.

The First Lady was nearly in tears, holding my coral pendant broken in two. She turned it over in her palm, as if her love alone could mend it.

'Aunty Grace, abeg, no cry. If my mama know say I make you this sad, she for scold me well.' I tried to smile, but it felt empty.

'Good child, you have suffered too much.'

The First Lady hugged me close. Her perfume lingered—part bitter leaf, part camphor, part the clean soap she always used after evening prayers. She pressed my head to her shoulder, rocking me the way mothers do when sleep no gree small pikin. As if she’d made up her mind, she said:

'Your engagement with Obinna was never officially settled, it was just me and His Excellency that agreed quietly.'

'If you want to go back to the north, Aunty Grace won’t stop you.'

'After all, your grandmother is there—she’ll never let anybody treat you badly.'

'All these years, I’ve been selfish, wanting to keep you in Makurdi.'

'But once you leave, I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.'

'Next month is my birthday. Stay just one more month.'

I squeezed the First Lady’s hand, answered softly, and let my tears fall quietly. Her grip was warm and strong, but both of us knew nothing could fill the emptiness inside me.

It should have been sad, but it felt like a burden lifted off my chest. I breathed deep, and for the first time in years, it felt like I could finally draw my own breath.

Mama Nkechi entered, saw us crying, and teased gently:

'There’s still time, Ijeoma. Look well at the young men in Makurdi. If you see one you like, just ask His Excellency for marriage.' Her laughter danced around the room, lightening the mood. She winked, dabbing her eyes with the end of her wrapper.

Mama Nkechi was only joking, but the First Lady took it seriously. She started making calls and sending invitations to all the noble ladies in Makurdi, planning a flower-viewing party in the government house. Her phone did not rest—calls to commissioners’ wives, texts to market women leaders.

In the second month, the day of the party arrived—

Early that morning, Chidinma began dressing me up. She hummed a gospel song, her voice rising and falling like prayer.

'Madam, these are the clothes and jewellery Her Excellency gave you some days ago. Which one you wan wear today?'

Looking at the row of dresses, I picked the brightest. Yellow and red, golden embroidery catching the sun and throwing it back at the world.

The last time I wore such bright colours was on my fourteenth birthday. I’d gone to see Obinna, so happy, but he was reading in the study. When he saw me, he only looked up a bit and said:

'The future Crown Princess should be calm and steady. Why are you dressing like butterfly?'

After that, I wore only safe, quiet colours. But truly, I loved red. My mother always said, 'Na who fear red dey fear life.'

As I stood up to go to the gardens, I noticed a sachet on my dressing table. I’d planned to give it to Obinna last month. Every year, I sewed one for him, each design more careful than the last—a silent way to show him my heart.

On impulse, I tucked it into my sleeve. Who knows? Maybe today, I would finally find the courage to give it to him.