I Married My Rival’s True Love / Chapter 4: The Divorce Letter
I Married My Rival’s True Love

I Married My Rival’s True Love

Author: Donald Roman


Chapter 4: The Divorce Letter

As we dey leave Princess Adeola place, I call Tunde before he enter car.

"Tunde, when we reach house, I get something to tell you."

My voice sound like broken calabash to my own ear.

That night, moon bright, stars full sky.

Cool breeze dey blow for garden, lanterns dey shake. I set table for garden, Tunde bring palm wine come, say king dash am, make I try am.

He pour am gentle, as if the wine fit wash away all wahala. I drink am one gulp.

"Tunde, congrats o. Baba Tunde don clear, your family go soon return. All your hard work pay."

I mean am, but my heart dey squeeze every word. Tunde smile, eyes dey curve, pour me more wine.

"Congrats to you too."

He look me well, as if e dey find something deep. But my mind don waka.

"When we marry three years ago, we agree say when Baba Tunde wahala clear, we go split. I hear say Miss Ifeoma still dey single, so una fit continue from where una stop."

I pull divorce letter from wrapper, give Tunde.

Paper fresh, ink still dey shine. He glance am, look away.

Thunder dey rumble for distance, as if sky sef dey vex for us.

"Amarachi, your mind no sweet tonight? Na because of Miss Ifeoma?"

Question hang for air, mix with scent of night flowers. Tunde sharp for politics, but when e reach us, e dey pretend dull.

"Miss Ifeoma sef dey suffer. No let her fine face fool you, stepmother dey run her house, life no soft. Because of my family wahala, her marriage chance spoil... Amarachi, I no fit just abandon her. Try understand."

His voice soft, like say make I pity her. Tunde yarn as if e make sense, but e no reach.

My chest dey burn with silent anger. Wetin concern me? Why e go use my gift please another? Why hibiscus I buy go Miss Ifeoma—just because she want am?

After three cup wine, my eye dey blur, but I still talk calm:

"Tunde, e no fair me. I no dey ask for anything. Make we just divorce."

My voice steady, even as my hand shake. Tunde quietly pick divorce letter, tuck am for sleeve. "Amarachi, you don drink. We go talk when you sober."

Him hand linger for paper, face no show emotion. Wine sweet for mouth, bitter for heart. But I no drunk. I sabi say Tunde dey dodge matter.

E clear. Tunde family just clear name, Tunde dey top, my name dey everywhere—loyal, righteous wife. If he dump me now, gossip go fly. Him future dey shine, bad reputation no fit follow am.

"I understand."

Since we no fit agree, I no talk am again. I use drunk as excuse, go my room. Funny enough, Tunde stand up, collect lantern from my hand, say he go escort me.

"Night don dark, road far. Make I follow you small."

He talk am like e mean something.

Since we marry, we never waka together unless people dey look. After dem seize Tunde property, we dey manage small bungalow—three rooms. From compound to my room, just thirty steps.

Why e wan escort me?

My heart beat small, but face blank. I thank am with my eyes.

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