BETROTHED ✓

1°

CHAPTER ONE

15th February 2016

In a primitive dwelling, somewhere in Niger state, Nigeria; in an outdoor kitchen made of mud and haulm, used for thatching, a young girl of about eighteen was seated on a small, wooden stool, with a book in her hands.

The rays from the morning sun flashed through the open window and shone on her.

She was so engrossed in reading, that she ignored the mortar containing dried okra to be crushed.

A genuine smile crept up her lips as she flipped through the pages of the literary work. Right from childhood, she had always had the zeal for books. Makeups, braiding of hairs in different styles, gossiping with the other village girls by the bank of the river, and other similar things girls her age did, did not faze nor fascinate her. She preferred to be in isolation and read and read till she could read no more.

Her parents, especially her dad, frowned upon the attitude of hers. In his words: Instead of preparing herself for marriage, as she was already ripe, she was busy engaging herself in worthless activities—activities that would lead her nowhere in the future.

"Larai!" A thin voice rang out her name, piercing through the morning silence and sending echoes through the empty compound, jolting her out of her trance.

Startled, she sprung up. Intuitively, she hid the book behind her back, just before a middle-aged woman walked into the mudded kitchen. She was dressed in a combination of three different types of clothing: A green colored blouse, a rainbow-like wrapper, and a scarf messily wrapped around her head. Judging by her demeanor, anyone could tell she didn't look pleased at all.

At times like this, Larai couldn't help but recall how she used to leave her in the hands of relatives, who were always waiting to jump at the opportunity of beating a child to stupor, once their parents complained to them about them, hiding underneath the shields of discipline.

Gone are the days.

The woman's gaze darted to the bowl of okra sitting untouched on the well-swept ground, her eyes widened as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. "Larai! What have you been doing? Why haven't you crushed those yet?"

Her voice, coupled with her psyched-up demeanor sent shivers down Larai's spine. "I'm sorry, Nna." Larai bowed slightly; her voice laced with remorse. She ought to have finished crushing the baobab leaves and dried okra for the preparation of the local soup powder, but she had been so engrossed in the book, she got distracted. "I'll do it now," she added.

"Be fast about that," her mother ordered, then turned to leave, but something caught her attention. Her brows furrowed. "What are you hiding behind your back?"

Larai's breath quickened, laboriously. "It's... It's nothing, Nna. Please go ahead and have a rest." She smiled sheepishly; her palms grew sweaty.

By Nna's demeanor, Larai could tell she didn't buy her story. Nna gazed suspiciously at her and began to slowly approach her.

With each step she took, Larai's heartbeat quickened. She knew she was about to be busted.

Nna grabbed her hand forcefully and the book fell to the ground with a soft thud.

Unsure of how Nna's reaction would be, Larai cringed inwardly. She had been warned times without number against reading such types of books but being the adamant person she was, she never listened. She just couldn't. It was something she was passionate about. She wished she could become a writer herself, someday.

Nna picked up the book from the ground. "Love in Paradise." She read out the title, then heaved a sigh of exasperation. "You do know the repercussions of your action, don't you?" She hummed. "What if your father had passed by and seen you reading that book?"