Married to My Enemy’s CEO / Chapter 4: Family Face and Filter Wahala
Married to My Enemy’s CEO

Married to My Enemy’s CEO

Author: Duane Zimmerman


Chapter 4: Family Face and Filter Wahala

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4

Next morning, Olumide no dey anywhere.

House dey quiet, even clock for parlour no wan tick. Na only me and my thought dey there. I dey reason if I suppose fry yam or just drink Lipton with cabin biscuit, but food no even hungry me.

I chop my sandwich, take deep breath, open phone.

I swallow sandwich like person wey dey force vitamin C. My hand dey shake as I tap my phone.

Surprisingly, all the negative comments don disappear overnight.

My phone clean like say e never enter wahala before. I dey shock. Na so all the bad mouth vanish?

Even the blogs wey curse me pass—their official accounts don vanish.

If na olden days, I for talk say juju dey involved. For this Lagos, e fit be say money pass mouth. But I just dey observe.

One or two media friends send me photo of my parents visiting their company, with message: [All settled.]

My parents full suit, dey smile for office corridor. I dey laugh. Na so dem dey always do—clean my mess behind the scene, package my shame.

The filter strong—my mama face smooth like amala, papa own dey shine like eba with too much oil. I smile.

The smile wey dey my face, e dey come from inside. Even if na small, I sabi say I never really lose. Family no dey throw persin away for Naija.

I know my parents no fit really abandon me.

Blood thick pass water. Even when dem dey vex, dem still dey check my back. I dey grateful.

All my previous wahala, na them dey clean up for me.

If dem no dey, who go settle all this kind drama? For this city, na only family fit save you from your own hand.

[No be me go take am again. Every time second male dey help heroine low-key, na another person dey collect credit...]

[Olumide, the number one cold CEO wey dey wash cloth. If him wife happy, he dey smile serve her. If she no happy, he serve her with cold face.]

[Too bad female supporting character no dey see road. Last night, she show am say she dey vex—even if she escape divorce, she no go dodge the basement lock up.]

These messages dey remind me say matter never really settle. If I slack, e fit still burst.

Shocked, I shift eye from message to phone.

My hand dey tremble. As I look phone, I dey reason if na now I suppose beg Olumide, or just arrange my load, dey ready for war.

I stare my parents' photo ten minutes—omo, na Photoshop...

I laugh small. Even the picture dey do somehow. My mama face too smooth—dem don edit am pass measure. I fit tell.

I open WhatsApp, scroll, find Olumide:

My chest dey tight. As I dey type, I dey pray say make e no ignore me like old message.

[You get time today? I wan talk to you.]

He reply sharp: [Wrong person.]

E pain me. The kain reply wey dey cold, you go feel am for bone. Na so Naija men sabi dodge talk when e pain dem.

...

[No, hubby~]

I swallow pride, add that small tease. Even me dey shock say I fit do am. Desperate time.

This time, reply slow:

Olumide dey delay. I dey wait, my heart dey race. E no easy to beg, but sometimes you gats swallow ego.

[I dey sorry for last night, make you see those things. I get work today. If you wan divorce, talk to lawyer first.]

The message long, but the meaning simple. E dey say, "I still dey wait your move." My hand shake, but I no gree let am go.

[No no no,] I rush reply, [No be divorce.]

My words dey jump—if e fit hear my voice, e go know say I dey panic.

Olumide: [Okay, see you this afternoon.]

Hope dey. Even if e small, na something. I dey smile small, dey plan my next move.

Message:

[See me see wahala—divorce? No time. No divorce? See you this afternoon.]

[Just small—female supporting character almost enter that basement again. I feel say she don dey try save herself o.]

[Why I feel say something bad wan happen for this plot, but I no remember wetin...]

For my mind, I dey prepare. Anything fit happen, but Naija girl no dey carry last. If e break, I go use super glue. If e set, I go lock am down. Na my own story, my own wahala.

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