Jumoke

1: How it all started

This story was not originally mine. Someone started it but couldn't complete it, so I decided to and changed maybe a few things to continue in line with what I have in my head. The original author dedicated it.

DEDICATION: TO ALL THE NIGERIAN AND AFRICAN WOMEN WHO HAD TO MARRY MEN THEY DID NOT WANT BECAUSE OF THE ECONOMY, AND ARE LIVING THROUGH IT, SMILING EVERYDAY, AND TRYING TO FIT IN...😘😘😘

Jumoke

I DID NOT tell my boyfriend that I was getting married, so, when my phone began to ring on my wedding night with his name and picture appearing on my phone's screen, I did not pick. It continued to ring, this iPhone 8 with its delicate features and envious specs; his smiling face stared back at me, his reddish lips parted to reveal immaculate white teeth but I still did not pick.

Suddenly, the double doors pushed open to reveal the man whom the priest proclaimed to be my husband a few hours ago. He was still clad in the black suit and matching shoes he wore for the wedding with his white packet shirt sporting a red stain; on his face was a dizzying smile, the kind only a warrior wore after a successful battle.

Quickly, I shoved the phone under the soft pillows, another one of the extravagances I was yet to get accustomed to while my other hand smoothed the creases on the handsewn, armless, silver gown I wore to the reception.

I blinked false eyelashes as he undid the last of his dress shirt button, watching him heave a sigh of relief as his slightly protruded belly burst free from its previous confines. Content with his new state of undress, he walked out of the room with his stomach hanging low on his belt buckle and a wider grin on his face.

The sound of his footsteps against the cool mirror tiles could be compared to that of a person's palm beating against the surface of a big bowl of water and it was oddly comforting. Certain that he was out of earshot, I retrieved the phone to call Kunle back, my fingers halting on the screen at the text that just came in.

"One day our dreams will come true, we will both be the people we have always wanted to be - happy and of course, blessed. Then, I will have my heart's one desire which is, coming back every day to see my bae on the couch with those hot legs crossed. I will kiss you and then we would talk about our day and what to do about our children's performances in school.
Till then, sleep well my love."

There was a movement in my chest as I read the last line of Kunle's text, and a warm sensation wrapped around me like a blanket on a rainy morning, cocooning me in a temporary bubble of happiness that was quickly deflated at the sight of my husband at the door.

He did not see the tears I blinked back or the sniffles I tried to hide by coughing loudly neither was he aware that my eyes burned on the inside from trying so hard to keep up a brave front. Slowly, his face broke into a suggestive smile which I forced myself to return, fingers pinching the inside of my thighs to refrain from doing otherwise.

"Coming, Emeka," the voice belonged to me but it sounded strange to my ears.

His gaze followed my every move as I sauntered to the bathroom, my heartbeat slowing to a regular pattern when the door was firmly locked behind me. Resting my back against the smooth surface of the door, I exhaled slowly, feverishly, wishing for some magic wand to make all of this disappear.

The woman who stared back at me when I finally raised my head up to the full-length mirror could be considered beautiful; the gown hugged her every dip and curve, a neat bun sat atop her head with blunt bangs that helped to frame her oval face covering her eyebrows, the flawless makeup called attention to her eyes, eyes that were so black, they could see right into your soul.