Nkasi's mother: "If I had not married an Osu, i will not be going through what I am going through today" she blurted out. Nkasi's father was stunned by what his ears were hearing:"Obiageli, what did you just say?" he asked, calling her name, which he rarely did. Nkasi's mother moved backwards slowly, waiting to run away if her husband came towards her, because she knew that she had just insulted him.
In igboland, predominantly where the Nri culture is practiced, there are two classes of people; the Osu and the Nwadiala. The Osu are those whose fore- fathers were sacrificed to gods, and made slaves. Therefore, generations after them carried the curse which was the mark of the gods. While the Nwadiala, were the free born and sons of the soil. The Osu are treated as inferior human beings in a state of permanent and irreversible disability. In most cases they reside very close to shrines and marketplaces. They are not allowed to dance, drink, hold hands, associate or have sexual relations with Nwadiala.This was the predicament of Nkasi and her family. Nkasi's mother, Obiageli was from a large family that had a lot of children, so when she defiled her family, they just ostracized her. But in worst cases, the Osu who wanted to marry a freeborn stood the risk of death, as the family members of the freeborn could go to any length to remove the insult they felt.
Nkasi's father picked up an axe that was lying around and ran after his wife, who ran away, screaming on the top of her voice. An Osu could kill for being called an Osu to the face, so at this moment, Nkasi's father was not himself, all he could think about, was his own wife calling him an Osu to his face. The worst part of the situation is that the villagers, who were coming back from their day's activities, saw the husband pursuing his wife with an axe and pretended not to see; they had no business with the Osu.
Nkasi's father's anger did not get spent, until he caught up with his wife and swung the axe.
Ever wonder how your supposed best day of life will turn into a lifelong nightmare. Two people, two different worlds yet bound by the same emotion, "HATE" and "same loved ones". Marriage is intended to be an eternal bond filled with love and happiness. This was far from the truth for Asmaira and Amaan. Two broken souls entangle in the game of destiny which ended their dream of everlasting love.
For one, it was a journey of regret which she has to live for the rest of her life. But why?.
For other, he was forced yet he promised to seek revenge for sure., for seeking "Her" place. Who is Amaan referring to as "Her"?
Who is this "loved ones" that connects both Asmara and Amaan and why do they hate each other so much without even meeting each other?
"Please......." the only word that she could manage to say while trying to get out of his grip and sobbing.
"Please......Let..........Me..........Go, " she stammered in between her hiccup, shaking her head with pleading eyes and folded hands.
"Don't be afraid honey! I realized my mistake of not accepting you as my wife and to mark the start of our marriage how about I gift you something, " He whispered while leaning close to her ear emphasizing on the word 'gift'.
Sensing her fright, he placed his hand on her waist while using the other to stroke her cheek, "how about giving you a baby tonight?". He spoke with an evil smirk.
" I know it is your first time and I promise to be gentle with you, My Wife"
Note: This is the first draft of the story and since then had not been edited as I'm busy writing my other stories on "Booknet." If you find typos or grammatical mistake or narration is not perfect, kindly ignore since your feedback about it would be of no use as you are reading an unedited story. I would edit it once the sequel to Kabir Hashmi is finished. And yes please be considerate when you comment. First, it's a fictional story and second, it's someone's hardwork.
#5 in torment-Sept 2020
#2 in torment-23rd Sept 2020