I always imagine who else sees the shards of glass and the dancing flames. The one that burns my soul and singes my heart.
As the tiny droplets of rain slide down my window pane, I stare weakly at the red arrow going downhill, my work performance was dropping badly and I was becoming more of a recluse! I wondered deeply, with my pillow pressed to my chest “Which kyn wahala be this?”. It was 12:47pm already, and I hadn’t gotten out of bed all day. Tick tick tick, the hand of the wall clock kept moving. It couldn’t even pause a bit just so I could clear my head. Then my eyes caught it, the big picture frame of me on my convocation ceremony wearing the brightest smile and a little smeared makeup hanging at the top left corner of my room. Yeah, that picture has every right to put a smile on my face. I missed those years, first class graduate of Economics, Covenant University. My father couldn’t be more proud. I got a job with some really sleek salary, soon a car, could life get any better? Don’t think too far, because it did. Sosanya Olamide fell in love. Yes, LOVE. I’m trying to find the words to use just so you can understand how carelessly I fell, with everything I had, with everything I hoped to have, I just fell. Daddy had never really opposed to anything I said or suggested, he either agreed or changed it slightly. He never did kick against it completely. After all, I was his last child and second daughter. But I would always remember how adamant he was about me getting married to Osas.
“I know those people, Mide. He would do you no good”. I was too sure I was going to lose it if he said more of such insane words. I LOVED Osas, I was willing to disobey my father if that was what it took to show him how badly my soul ached to be paired with Osas’. My father wouldn’t have any of it and my mother was mad. The issue of my relationship with “that boy” crept into the fabric of my parent’s marriage and chewed it. They quarrelled and argued and it was world war III at home. My brothers begged, my sister wept, daddy wouldn’t budge. He just kept convincing us that there was something about him that would break me. Didn’t he know that I would love Osas to break me if that would make him love me more? Oh well, daddy couldn’t get it, love was way different in his time.
His parents met mine after six months and mum adored everything about them. Her “Edo in-laws” were her new favourite discussion. Dad had settled into the relationship, a little. But each time, he would pull me aside and say “Oko mi, if you ever notice something about him that you don’t like or want to live with, leave him alone. A broken engagement is better than a broken marriage” Sure, he was trying to look out for me, I got that message right. We had our traditional wedding, and the pastor joined us in church weeks after. It was the wedding of the month. I was the bride of the century, I was the happiest person alive. My new life was ready to amaze me.
Osas and I didn’t want children just yet. We wanted the world to ourselves first, and we had it. Dad surely had a big whoop. Osas soon became his best friend, the guy he would talk about politics with, he wasn’t really a sports person, but Osas had a way of drawing him to tennis. I can’t shout, my life was too perfect! April 3rd 2017, Osas had hit a business idea that would up our level forever. I can still see him talking too much like a little child about it. He went down to Port Harcourt from Abuja to secure who this business partners were. The outcome was fantastic and I joined him on the next trip. Proud wife of the soon to be CEO, AfriSoft IT company. We all had dinner, discussed a lot of opportunities for the business. Everything was so wonderful, until we had a flat tire. Osas was taking me to a restaurant when the tire started to deflate and forcefully came off the car. Till date, I still see the vision of my husband, my lover bleeding from his head surrounded by glass and fire. If somehow, daddy got a sign that Osas would die on me really quick, I would have backed out, saved myself the pain, the agony, the images that can never stop coming back. How I see him walk into the house everyday, how I can’t even go on a road trip anymore because I’m too afraid to die, how I lose my breath every time I try to sleep, medications are not medicine for a ruptured soul. Now it’s 12:59am, and I’m sitting alone on my bed, with tears streaming down my cheeks, a six-month old baby in my belly, and wondering who else sees the shards of glass and the dancing flames.