Chapter 6: War of Hearts

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After three years, Obiora eyes finally see me clear again.

He stared, disbelief and pain fighting for space on his face. For a second, I saw the boy he once was—the boy who laughed in the rain with me.

His eyes red, wet, the thing under his hand hard.

Tears brimmed at his lashes, but his hands gripped the desk so tight his knuckles turned white. The memory of old passion flickered in the air.

I half-kneel by his side, feel something poke me.

Awkwardness pressed around us, but I let my knees sink to the thick rug, head bowed as if in prayer.

Before I fit think, Obiora pin me for desk like say I be paper he wan hold down.

His arms snapped out, pulling me forward. My head spun, breath catching as my back hit the wooden desk.

Hairpin fall, my hair scatter.

My braids tumbled free, beads bouncing across the floor. The air was thick with longing and regret.

He remove my veil. Obiora just look me, no talk.

His hands shook, but his eyes never left mine. The veil slipped, revealing all the years between us.

I smile.

A small, sad smile—offering peace, maybe, or just memory.

"Long time, Your Majesty no even greet this your chief’s daughter?"

My words teased, a throwback to old jokes. I tried to lighten the tension, even as my heart pounded.

Obiora no answer.

His silence said everything words could not. His eyes bore into me, searching for the truth in my face.

He wipe my lipstick rough, like say na him anger he dey pour.

His thumb pressed hard, smudging the colour across my cheek. The gesture was more pain than tenderness.

I push his hand, pretend to struggle. "Wetin you dey do?"

My voice rose, part fear, part challenge. Old habits die hard.

Obiora grab both my wrists with one hand, press am above my head, our hair just dey mix together.

His grip was iron, holding me captive. Our foreheads nearly touched, breath mingling.

"Na you suppose answer that one," his eyes dark, face close to mine, "Morayo, wetin you dey find for here?"

His breath was hot, words sharp. He needed to hear the truth, but pride would not let me say it plain.

I look am, even dey enjoy. I no fear, in fact I wan laugh.

Despite the danger, a thrill ran through me. Obiora always made my heart skip, even now.

I come from warrior family. If I want, I fit break free, but how I go talk am…

My father’s wrestling lessons echoed in my bones, but I let him hold me—this was my own small surrender.

I get wahala.

Trouble loved me as much as I loved it. My mother’s voice sighed in my head, “This pikin stubborn like goat.”

Since before, I like to see Obiora lose guard because of me.

There was power in making a king lose control—only I had ever done that.

I pause, then smile, act innocent, blink.

My lashes fluttered, a trick I learnt from palace girls. I forced my lips into a pout, feigning innocence.

"As you see so," I winked, bold as pepper seller in the market, and wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, "I dey seduce you."

My words hung in the air, bold and shameless. My father would have laughed, my mother would have fainted.