Chapter 9: Restriction, Fake Cry, and ATM Alert

To stop me from running, Obiora put restriction for me.

I dey waka, I feel invisible hand dey pull me back. Na magic, na restriction.

Invisible leash, I no fit pass ten meters from am.

Na so I test am for balcony—if I pass, body go freeze. See as I dey suffer.

But bullet comments give me idea—maybe I fit tame Obiora.

If people online dey root for me, maybe na new trick I suppose try.

I always dey fight am, no know say na soft hand dey work.

Na now my eye open. Gentle dey beat strong for love.

Maybe if I try gentle…

I dey plan, dey rehearse smile for mirror.

After meeting, I wait for office door, full smile:

I wear my best smile, dey stand like Usher for church.

“Husband, you don chop?”

“If you remove restriction, I go house cook for you, e go sweet.”

I dey reason say, if I try home training, e fit shock Obiora.

I wait make he gree.

I dey stand, dey swing bag, dey hope say this one go enter.

But Obiora just look me, deadpan:

He eye me up and down, voice flat.

“I sabi difference between chop and being chopped.”

Na so I weak. I dey look ground, dey think say maybe na mistake I talk cook.

“….”

No words. I just dey form statue.

Na why you need pure man. Tell this one ‘cook’, he don dey reason another thing.

If you talk food, e dey reason bedroom. Wetin I go do?

I try again: “I go order takeout for you. That your favourite mama put. Thin skin, big meat—but na only pick up by yourself.”

I dey try use bribe, hope say e go free me.

He snort. “You wan waka?”

Obiora no dey trust me. E dey fear say I go vanish.

He see through me.

True, na wahala I dey plan.

I take deep breath, act drama:

I fake cry, voice dey tremble, rub eye, dey sob. Na Nollywood style.

“How you go think so? If I fit, I go glue for your body 24/7. But you dey get stomach pain, I just wan make you chop on time. No know say you go misunderstand me…”

I even cough small for effect, dey hope say pity go enter am.

I cover face, go desk, dey whimper till my throat scratch.

Fake cry reach, even mosquito for room dey pity me.

[Bank app: +8888]

My phone vibrate. I see alert, eyes shine.

I jump, look Obiora.

E just fold hand, dey watch me, small smile dey corner of e mouth.

He fold hand, dey smirk: “If you run, you don die.”

Na warning, but I dey happy—restriction dey glow for wrist, dey fade.

Look my wrist, restriction glow, then vanish.

I try stretch, feel say power dey return. Na real win.

I run give am big kiss: “Thank you, husband! Love you, husband!”

I blow kiss, grab bag, dey bounce.

Then I vanish.

Sharp girl, na run I run. Street no dey dull.

Leave Obiora dey squeeze lips, dey hide smile.

Na so e dey hide soft side, but inside, na pure joy.

Bullet comments dey catch am:

[Supporting babe don wise—she wan glue second male lead leg?]

[But she no send Musa again—how plot wan connect? If she no almost spoil main girl, male lead no go realize love.]

[Wait, story still dey move—looks like supporting babe wan find trouble again.]

Online people dey analyze my escape like say na Champions League.