Chapter 1: The Reunion Table Wahala

At the class reunion, my ex-girlfriend eyed me, hesitating. "You dey go again this time?"

Her words hang for air like harmattan breeze wey slow, eyes dey search my face for something only she understand. Her voice still carry that old note, the one wey dey scatter my chest back then.

I shake my head. "No, I no dey go."

The hall light catch the beads for her wrist—the ones she always wear come special gatherings. I fit feel eyes of our old classmates, that hush wey just drop for our table. As I answer, her lips part, surprise flash for her face before hope try enter like small smile.

She shift close, her perfume—dat vanilla one—remind me of old days. She dey wait for answer wey fit change everything.

Her face brightens. "Then we fit—"

Her words tumble out soft-soft, like she still dey test if ground go answer her call. Hope don full her eye, the way Lagos sun dey set for Lekki horizon.

"Ngozi." I cut her off. "I dey marry."

Those words land for table like heavy amala. Everywhere freeze. Even the small music wey dey come from DJ corner just fade for my ear.

I see the shock for her face, but my own heart just dey stone. I no wan show say the thing pain me too.

Ngozi just freeze where she stand.

Her hand wey dey shake before, now just dey still, like when NEPA take light and everywhere quiet. Her mouth open small, as if she wan talk, but words no fit cross her lips. Her shoulders drop, like rain bend okada seat. E remain make she shift leg, but even dat one hard. For that moment, she resemble person wey spirit hold.

All the words wey she wan talk just jam for her throat; nothing comot.

If to say na film, camera for zoom her eye, show how her mind dey race. But na real life, so only me and her dey see the wahala inside. You know say when spirit tie person tongue, na so e dey be.

Her friend try smile to break the tension. "Ah ah, Tunde, abeg now. E don reach five years—so you still dey vex for Ngozi?"

Her friend voice carry that kind fake brightness, as if e dey try use laugh pursue wahala. She sip zobo from her glass, eyes dey waka around, try make people no notice as Ngozi hand dey shake small.

True, time dey waka fast. Five years don waka pass like play.

E shock me how five years fit pass, as if na only yesterday we dey talk about plans and dreams wey no reach. Time na real magician for this Lagos.

Five years enough for person feelings to die finish.

But some feelings dey stubborn. Na so e dey for some people. Sometimes, even after rain wash, the smell of earth dey remain. I sabi am for my own chest.