Chapter 2: Office Palava and Broken Trust

My wife dey general manager office for meeting, and the man even close curtain. That kain secret meeting, everybody know wetin e mean, but nobody wan talk am direct. The AC for corridor dey blow cold, but my armpit dey sweat.

Company WhatsApp group just dey hot:

[Na wah o. Which kind meeting be only two people?]

[If you sabi, you sabi. With Amara fine face, which man no go reason am?]

[Abeg, make we stop.]

[Wetin dey? Mumu of the Year no even dey this group.]

[He dey here.]

[E choke 🥵. See as Amara dey run things.]

……

My colleagues dey look me anyhow—some pity me, but more dey laugh me. For Nigerian office, gossip na sport. I no just dey comfortable at all. Even security man dey look me like I wear clown shoe.

My wife don explain tire, tell me make I no think bad, make I ignore all the talk. Her words sweet, but e dey sound empty. Sometimes, I go dey look her, dey wonder if na film she dey act.

But this time, I just wan see with my eye. If wahala go burst, make e burst. I no fit dey carry last for my own matter.

I waka go the office, everybody dey look me with surprise. Even the receptionist mouth open, phone fall from hand, her chewing gum nearly fall from mouth, but she quickly gather herself. For Naija, any small drama na show.

Male executive assistant block me for door, voice cold, like say I no matter: "Mr. Femi dey handle important thing. Nobody fit disturb." E carry face up, like say I be beggar.

He drag that 'important' word, make e sound somehow. If person listen well, e go know say na shade he dey throw. Na dem dey form gatekeeper, but I no get patience today.

I no even get time for wahala. I open the door, enter. My wife dey sit down for sofa, face still red small. Her bag for floor, scarf one side, as if she rush enter.

Amara look up, shock: "Tunde, wetin dey worry you?" Her eye wide, but I see fear for corner.

General manager turn, waka go him desk. He vex: "You no sabi knock before you enter? Na this your coconut head you wan use take reach manager? Abeg, shift." E voice sharp, as if he wan break my head with talk.

My hand wey I squeeze just loose. I answer am with straight face: "Yes na, your sense too wide, na why you dey call everybody 'Daddy.'" Everybody for office know say he like make people hail am 'Daddy'—even HR don tire.

General manager vex scatter, grab him flask throw am for me. If not say I dey alert, that thing for land for my head. E mean say him own vex pass my own.

I dodge, then look my wife straight: "Amara, come out." My voice no get mercy. For her face, I see shame wey she dey try hide.

For company lounge, Amara look me with guilty eye, dey scratch my palm. E remind me of those days for school, when she go do wrong and dey beg with soft touch.

"Husband, I go soon get promotion. Abeg, no dey cause wahala." Her voice low, almost like whisper. She dey try use sweet talk calm me.

I shake off her hand, voice cold: "Why you dey lie give me?" My spirit just dey boil. If I no talk now, na me go carry last.

She begin tap her foot for tile, eye dey dodge mine, hand dey squeeze scarf like say she dey knead dough. "I no lie you." I see her fingers dey twist her scarf, like person wey dey hide something.

I lift her chin, force her to look me. "You dey talk say he no send you. So why e get 'trouser bomb' just now?" I nod head towards office, make she no pretend.