Chapter 1: When Love Dey Blind

The first time I hear her hum old Naija songs inside my room, my spirit calm like never before. Her voice soft, the kind wey fit chase wahala from your heart. That gentle sound, e be like say breeze just blow away all my stress.

From the very start, her every small kindness dey touch me. She dey remember to set water for my bath, arrange my rubber Dunlop slippers by the zinc door, and sometimes hum old Sunny Ade or Onyeka Onwenu when work wahala too much. Her gentleness settle me, turn my house to home before I even realize.

One night, I dey sleep well when I hear small sound of water dey run. I turn, glance back—the bathroom light for our room dey on. Maybe na she dey inside. I no reason am too much, just close eye back.

But e get as e be. My body still dey alert, like say my spirit dey try talk to me. Naija night breeze enter window, carry rain scent reach bed. I press pillow, try relax.

But cold sweat begin catch me. I reason am—blind person waka go bathroom, why e go on light?

My mind no gree rest. Wetin blind person wan use light do? My heart dey drum like bata drum for chest. I wipe my forehead, sweat no gree dry.

I lay for side, back to bathroom, no move. I try slow my breathing, but heart dey beat fast like generator for night.

I dey form sleep, but my mind dey jump. The silence heavy, every sound loud. I dey count each breath, dey pray say make morning quick reach.

Click.

That na the sound of light switch. I feel her return for bed, hug me from back. Her breath touch my neck—but e cold, almost chilling.

Her touch wey dey warm before now cold, like early morning dew for village. Her breath fit give person goosebumps. I shock but hold body, no talk. My mind dey run up and down, dey reason wetin dey happen.

The next morning, still dey think about night matter, I see her sit across from me for table. She dey chop akara and pap for breakfast. Steam dey rise from the pap, peppery smell fill the air. Outside, neighbor dey shout "Mama Chinedu! Bring my change o!" through window.

She dey cut akara slow, dip am for pap like ritual. Sunlight touch her face, make her look innocent pass anything. But my chest heavy, memory of night dey disturb me.

She no fit see. I don look her eyes before—dem black like burnt pot bottom, no clear edge, just darkness. E resemble when Babalawo draw for shrine, the kind black wey fit make person fear.

First time I see her eyes, I remember that shrine picture—deep, no boundary, like say she dey look another world. I shiver small, turn face away.

But why she on light last night? My heart heavy, I wan comot house, clear my head. I rush chop bread, say I dey late, begin ready to go.

My words dey rush. I no fit look her well. Grab bag, lock shoe. As I dey waka go door, I dey reason maybe I dey overthink. But my spirit no gree rest.

As I turn go, I think say I see her raise head towards wall clock.

I pause. My mind dey play trick? Or she really dey look time? Something dey off, I feel am for my bone.

Blind person need look clock?

I dey reason—she dey pretend? Or na habit from before? But wahala dey my mind.

Busy day tire me. I think am again and again, maybe na just new living arrangement dey stress me. I tell myself say, with time, e go better.

Inside Danfo, conductor dey shout for change, I dey look window, dey argue with my own head. Maybe na my mind dey do me. For Lagos, everybody get wahala. I tell myself make I chill.

After work, I drive go her workplace to pick am. She dey teach talking drum for music studio.

The keke I dey use old, but e still dey manage. As I reach, children dey beat drum, laughter everywhere. My heart relax small, see say she dey okay.

She don pack her things, dey wait for door.

She stand for door, bag for hand, smile for face. Sun dey shine for her skin, e make her look like angel wey waka come from heaven.

I waka meet am, hold her hand. She smile that knowing smile. No words, just understanding.

Her smile always soft, like person wey sabi where she dey go. When I hold her, she squeeze my palm, as if say, "I dey with you."

I carry her bag, help am enter back seat of my keke, arrange her bag, fasten seatbelt.

I adjust her skirt, arrange bag for seat. Double-check seatbelt—na my way of showing care.

She always like to sit back; say space dey help her stretch leg. As I dey drive, she go dey tap rhythm for seat, hum tune soft-soft.

As we pass junction, one small pikin for bicycle rush enter road. I press brake, swerve. Keke spin, but thank God, nothing spoil.

My heart jump! Pikin no look road. My hand dey shake, but I thank God.

She ask, "Wetin happen?"

I package voice, "Na one small pikin for bicycle. No wahala, God dey control."

As we dey go house, I see for mirror as she bend, pick small hair clip, put for bag. Maybe e fall when I brake.

The way she bend, hand go straight where e land—e shock me. I no talk, just dey watch.

But how she take know say hair clip fall…

I dey reason—she dey use sense pass normal? Or na luck? For my mind: 'No be all blind eyes wey no dey see, dem dey talk am for village.'

After dinner, I hold her hand, we waka go small park for compound. She like am—simple stroll with me.

Evening breeze dey blow, mango leaf dey dance. Children dey play ten-ten, old mama dey gossip under almond tree. Her hand soft for my own, like agbalumo flesh.

Park lively—children dey skate, old people dey dance highlife. Generator hum mix with laughter, jollof smell from neighbor. Peaceful, but Lagos wahala full ground.

She no talk much. I hold her hand, her long black hair get that hibiscus perfume smell. Breeze blow am, remind me of village after rain. I dey thank God say I get person wey dey calm me.

One small girl skate, lose control, fall inside bush, leg dey kick air.

Everybody laugh. Mama rush go pick am, dust her bumbum, but pikin still dey laugh. Children no dey fear.

I wan tell her, but as I look, I see that smile for her face—not her usual one, but the kind when you see something funny. Cold catch me. She dey notice wetin dey happen for park, but how?

My mind no rest. This gentle, beautiful woman—she really blind? Things no dey add up.

I dey try arrange my thoughts. This kain wahala, person no fit talk give family, dem go say na jazz.

Should I ask her directly? If I talk, I fit sound paranoid or hurt her feelings. But if I no talk, I go run mad. How person go dey live with person, still dey suspect am?

During lunch break, I tell my padi Timi all the strange things wey don happen. E shock am.

Timi na real Ijebu guy, sabi street. When I finish, e just open mouth, look me like say na ghost I see.

"Guy, e get as e be o. If na true, dat babe dey hide something for body."

I shake head. "Na me dey hustle, no get money. Wetin she go gain?"

Timi reply, "First, make we confirm if she dey pretend or truly blind."

He raise hand like police. "Make we set trap. If na fake, e go show."

I rub face. "Abeg, I no wan break her heart. Wetin I go do?"

Timi arrange plan: I go tell her say I no fit pick her after work, she go take taxi home. Later, me and Timi go house. Timi go enter first, I go wait. If she dey pretend, seeing stranger enter, she go shock. If normal, Timi go comot, I go enter.

Timi draw plan for tissue like military. My heart dey beat, but I agree.

I laugh, slap him back. "Timi, your sense dey fly! Goat wey get calculator, na you!"

Night don fall, everywhere blue. Me and Timi exchange eye for corridor. He carry key, waka like thief for night, step dey careful. I dey behind, dey peep.

Corridor dark, generator hum for distance, and old woman dey sweep sand for next flat. After motion sensor light off, only blue light from window dey show. I hold phone, dey wait, sweat for palm.

Three minutes later, Timi come out. My heart nearly stop. I rush meet am, face serious.

"Nobody dey," he talk.

I quickly call my babe. My finger dey shake. She say na park she dey, house hot, she dey wait for me.

Warmth fill my chest. I realise how much I mean to her. Since I choose am, I go support her.

E pain me say I dey doubt am. But love dey confuse person. I tell myself, no matter wetin, I go stand by her.

Me and Timi waka go park. My babe sit for bench, her white dress dey shine for street light, dust never even touch am.

Night breeze dey blow her dress, headphones for ear, face calm, like angel. I say goodbye to Timi, sit with her. She hear my voice, lean head for my shoulder. I hold her hand tight. Who no go soft for babe like this?

Her body soft like hot moi-moi. My chest melt, I squeeze her hand, forget my worry.

We sit for a while, then I take her home. As we dey walk stone path, suddenly one shadow rush from bush. My chest catch.

As we near, I realise na Timi. He signal make I act normal.

I stop talk, just hold her hand. Timi stand for her front. If she no dodge, she go jam am.

Tension fit cut with knife. Heartbeat loud for ear. If she really blind, she go jam Timi. I hold breath.

At night, footsteps loud. Harmattan breeze cool, but sweat dey my face.

Just as she wan bump Timi, he shift. She waka pass—no wahala. I confuse pass before.

I no react, just look back. Timi make phone sign, then waka go.

At home, I make yam and egg sauce. Life together plain but sweet. She curl for my arm, sleep deep, even her snore gentle.

I remember Timi sign, pick phone. Screen glow harsh. Timi message: Something’s wrong.

My heart skip. For Timi to talk so, e serious. I reply: What’s wrong?

Hand dey shake. I wait like person wey dey wait NEPA bring light.

Timi reply: "I can’t say for sure. Let’s talk tomorrow. Abeg, shine your eye."

That "shine your eye" hit me. For Lagos, if you no wise, you fit chop. I bite lip, dey reason Timi angle.

Soon, him WhatsApp pic turn grey—offline. My heart sink. Timi no dey offline anyhow. Something dey fishy.

I off phone, then notice her soft snore don stop.

I freeze. Silence too loud. I listen well.

After phone light off, my eye take time to adjust. I no fit see her face. She dey watch me for dark?

Body cold. Naija night get power. I use sense of smell, touch, dey measure her presence for bed.

Soon, eye adjust. Her eyes close tight, no snore, breathing steady, face calm.

I come down small. Maybe na paranoia. But my spirit still dey alert.

I close my eyes, but sleep run from me. My mind dey ask: who I really dey sleep beside?