CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN
Fuck!
Seated
in an upscale restaurant, I hurriedly typed away on my laptop, barely paying
attention to the conversation going on around me. Fatima and the others were
engrossed in their discussion as we waited for Marcus to join us, but my mind
was elsewhere. I had a deadline to meet, and the last thing I wanted was to
still be buried in work when he arrived.
“Bewa.”
I
heard Adebayo call my name and briefly lifted my eyes from the screen.
“Marcus
wasn't joking when he said you've become incredibly busy,” he remarked, shaking
his head with an amused smile. “I mean, look at us. We're all out here trying
to have a good time, and you're practically glued to that laptop.” A small,
apologetic smile tugged at my lips. “I'm sorry,” I muttered before returning my
attention to the screen.
“You're
sorry?” Fatima echoed “We came out here to have fun, Bewa, not to watch you
work.” I sighed quietly, my fingers never slowing as I continued typing.
“I'm
really sorry,” I said, still not looking up. “I just have a deadline I need to
meet, and I'm trying to get everything done before Marcus gets here.” My
fingers moved frantically across the keyboard “Please, just give me a few more
minutes. I'm almost done”
“Why
are you working so hard anyway?” Joy asked, leaning back in her chair. “I'm
sure there's a black card with Kylian's name on it waiting for you to use.”
There
she is. Insensitive Joy. I was beginning to wonder where she had disappeared
to. Turns out, she has been here all along.
Her
comment immediately changed the atmosphere around the table. I noticed my
friends exchanging awkward glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond, while
Lucia, who appeared to have missed the tension entirely, looked at me with
genuine curiosity.
“You
have a black card?” she asked, her eyes widening in bewilderment.
“No,”
I answered before shifting my gaze to Joy. “Working again is part of my
healing.”
“I
understand that, but you can take things slowly. You've been through a lot.”
“That
is no excuse to remain idle. My daughter died over a year ago. I'm not going to
use her death as an excuse to be lazy,” I stated firmly.
“I
didn't say you should be lazy,” she quickly clarified. “But after everything
you've been through, I think you're allowed to have fun for a year or two. ”
Okay,
if she's coming from that angle, then...
“A
year or two?” I repeated with a small chuckle. When I noticed she wasn't
smiling, my expression gradually changed. “You're serious?”
“Of
course, I am. Why do you need to work so hard?”
“I
don't know. Maybe to pay my bills?” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“What
bills?” Adebayo suddenly blurted out. “You're privileged, Bewa. What bills do
you need to pay?”
For
some strange reason, his comment irritated me more than it should have. Perhaps
it was because, all my life, I had hated having my accomplishments reduced to
privilege, as though every sacrifice, every sleepless night and every difficult
decision that had brought me this far meant absolutely nothing.
That
was the Bewa in Nigeria who worked hard for every penny she earned. The Bewa of
the last three years, apparently, has been privileged.
“I am
not privileged,” I argued, my voice taking on a defensive edge.
“In
the last year, have you used your own money to buy your own food?”
“Of
course, I ha—” I stopped abruptly. I pressed my lips together, unable to finish
my sentence.
The
answer had been on the tip of my tongue, but then the reality hit me. For the
better part of the last year, Marcus had been taking care of me. He had paid
for virtually everything without once asking me for a penny in return. Even the
little things I would ordinarily have paid for myself had somehow become his
responsibility.
“What
were you saying?” Joy taunted, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
“That's
because I've been grieving,” I replied, desperately trying to defend myself.
“And
how many people do you know who get to grieve without worrying about where
their next meal is coming from?”
I
opened my mouth, but no words came out. I had no comeback, and the silence only
made me more uncomfortable.
“So,
admit it. You are privileged,” she concluded.
Suddenly,
I felt a wave of shame wash over me. I lowered my gaze, unable to ignore the
truth in her words, even if I hated the way she had delivered them.
“Hey,
we're not trying to make you feel bad,” Adebayo intervened, perhaps sensing how
uncomfortable I had become.
“Yes,
all we're saying is that you've been through a lot, and you're allowed to have
fun. It's not as though you don't have millionaire friends who are willing to
support you,” Fatima added gently.
“And
let's not forget that she's married to Kylian Mbappé,” Joy chipped in.
“What?”
Lucia exclaimed and this made everyone turn towards her in bewilderment. I let
out a heavy sigh as I realised exactly what had prompted her reaction. Slowly,
I turned my eyes towards Joy and shot her a displeased look.
Just
when I thought I was going to forgive her.
“Mbappé
is your husband?” Lucia asked, staring at me in disbelief.
“You
didn't know?” Joy asked, turning towards her.
Lucia
shook her head before looking back at me.
“What?”
Joy exclaimed when she noticed the hard glare I was giving her. “Is it supposed
to be some kind of secret?”
I
ignored her and turned to Lucia, who was still looking at me with disbelief
“Bewa,
is it true?” she asked, this time directing the question straight at me.
“Not
anymore. We're getting a divorce.”
“WHAT?”
The entire table erupted in unison, their voices overlapping as everyone
reacted to my announcement.
I let
out a humourless chuckle. “So, how long do you think you can support me when my
husband is out of the picture?”
“What
do you mean you're getting a divorce?” Fatima asked, her eyes widening. “Why?”
“Fatima...”
I called, my voice laced with frustration. I hated how quickly I had become the
centre of attention. One minute, we were having a conversation about my work,
and the next, everyone was interrogating me about my marriage.
“Is
it because of your baby?” Abdul asked calmly.
I
sighed and turned back to my laptop. “I don't want to talk about it.” I resumed
typing, hoping that would be enough to put an end to the conversation.
Gradually, the voices around me faded until the only sound I could hear was the
clicking of my keyboard.
I
didn't need to look up to know that everyone's eyes were fixed on me. Their
silence was almost as uncomfortable as their questions, and I could feel their
curiosity hanging heavily in the air. After a few more seconds of trying to
ignore them, I finally gave up and lifted my head.
“Seriously,
guys, let it go.”
“Maybe
it'll be like last time,” Joy remarked casually.
“Excuse
me?” I turned towards her, my eyebrows drawing together in a scowl.
“I
mean, you made such a big deal about divorcing him the last time, but you never
went through with it. All you did was break Marcus's heart,” she blurted out.
My
heart nearly dropped.
For a
moment, I simply stared at her, struggling to process what she had just said.
Then, almost instinctively, my eyes darted towards Lucia before returning to
Joy, whom I glared at with undisguised fury.
“Joy!”
“What?”
she asked innocently. I subtly gestured towards Lucia with my head, silently
begging her to get the message and, for once, shut the fuck up and of course
expecting that much restraint from Joy was apparently asking for too much.
“Oh,
did you think she didn't know about your drama with Marcus?”
Please,
can I kill her?
Not
before you kill me.
I
slowly turned towards Lucia. The young woman offered me a small, reassuring
smile. “Marcus told me.”
I
felt mortified. My stomach twisted as I silently prayed for the floor to open
up and swallow me whole. Of all the people I could have this conversation in
front of, why did it have to be Lucia?
“I'm
so sorry,” I apologised, my voice barely above a whisper.
But
why are you apologising? You did nothing wrong.
Honestly,
I didn't know. But somehow, Joy had managed to make me feel as though I had
committed some terrible offence.
“Nothing
happened between Marcus and me,” I tried to explain.
“Except
the kiss,” Joy interjected. “You kissed him.” I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting
the urge to scream.
Can I
kill her now?
“Come
on, Joy,” Lucia scolded.
“I
just want you to have all the facts,” Joy defended herself, turning towards
Lucia.
“Aside
from that, nothing else happened between us,” I assured Lucia, hoping that
would finally put an end to the conversation.
“Trust
me, she knows, and she's very secure,” Joy muttered again and that was it. I
slammed my palm against the table and shot to my feet, unable to contain my
anger any longer.
“And
what exactly is that supposed to mean, Joy?” I seethed, glaring at her. “Are
you trying to pick a fight with me? After everything we've been through, after
everything we've overcome together, do you seriously want to pick a fight with
me?”
“What
are we talking about?” A calm voice suddenly interrupted us.
Thank
God! What took him so long?
Everyone
turned towards the newcomer, startled. None of us had heard him approach. I was
still breathing heavily when I finally tore my gaze away from Joy and saw
Marcus pulling out the empty chair beside Lucia on the opposite side of the
table.
“Man
of the Match!” Abdul greeted him enthusiastically. Marcus leaned over and
kissed Lucia on the lips before straightening up to exchange a handshake with
Abdul.
“Great
match today, Marcus,” Adebayo congratulated him. “You guys are really on fire
this season.”
“Thank
you,” Marcus replied with a smile as he settled into his seat.
“You're
meeting Real Madrid at home next, right?” Adebayo asked, Marcus nodded.
“With
Mbappé in form, that's going to be a tough match,” Abdul commented but Marcus
offered no response.
“Bewa is getting a divorce. Did you know?” Joy asked
Marcus.
Finally, he looked in my direction. From
his expression and composure, I could tell he had probably heard most of our
earlier conversation. Perhaps that was why he had interrupted us in the first
place, to save me from the vultures From the very depths of my soul, I was
grateful.
Remind me again why Lucia is his
girlfriend and we are not?
“Yes,” he answered simply, picking up the
menu from the table. “Bewa, sit down.” I let out a weary sigh before lowering
myself back into my chair.
“Yes, I'm aware, and I want you all to
understand that it's her business.”
“But it makes absolutely no sense!” Joy
protested, opening her mouth again. Honestly, she was beginning to get on every
last nerve I had. “Maybe it's the therapy. Is getting a divorce the next step
in your healing journey?”
“Cut it out, Joy,” Adebayo cautioned his
wife.
But I have had it with her. So, I pushed
my chair back and stood up, reaching for my laptop and beginning to pack my
things. I wasn't going to sit there and allow everyone to dissect my personal
life as though it were some public spectacle.
“Sit down, Bewaji,” Marcus instructed and
I ignored him, continuing to gather my belongings.
“SIT DOWN!” he repeated, his voice
considerably firmer this time. Before I could respond, Fatima stood up and
moved towards me, gently stopping me from packing any further.
“Joy, if you open your mouth one more
time, you will be excused from this gathering,” Abdul warned.
“You can't just—” Joy began to protest.
“Not another word, Joy. I mean it. Not
another word,” Marcus interrupted, his tone leaving absolutely no room for
argument.
I hesitated for a moment before finally
putting my things down and settling back into my chair. The situation seemed to
be under control, but I was still seething inside.
“I know it might seem harsh, but she only
wants what's best for you,” Abdul said, attempting to placate me.
“But it doesn't feel like it. I don't
even know what the whole point of this is. You don't even like him.”
“Yes, I don't like him,” Joy spoke up
again.
“JOY!” Everyone except me yelled at once.
“I will leave, but only after I've said
what's on my mind,” she declared, then turned towards me. “I don't like him,
yes, but I love you, which is why I have to tell you the truth.” She stood up,
looking at me over her husband's head. Adebayo was seated between us.
“You love Marcus.”
I glanced at Lucia, who had suddenly
become uncomfortable in her seat.
“Joy!” I called, warning her to stop, but
instead of listening, she turned towards Lucia.
“I'm sorry, Lucia, but she's in love with
your boyfriend, and I think you know that a part of your boyfriend is still in
love with her.”
I sprang to my feet, leaving Adebayo
between us. “What are you doing?” I demanded, but Joy barely acknowledged me.
Her gaze remained fixed on Lucia and Marcus.
“Marcus, tell her it's not true.” I asked
him but he said nothing
So I took matters into my own hands.
“It's not true, Lucia. Marcus loves you and only you.”
“Enough, Bewa,” Joy interjected.
“No, it's not enough!” I yelled. “How can
you tell her that her boyfriend is in love with someone else? How can you be so
insensitive?”
“Because it's the truth!” She looked
around the table before turning back to me. “We're all friends here. If we
can't tell each other the truth, then we have no business being friends. You
loved Marcus so much, and it was mutual. We all saw it. That's why we were so
angry with you for choosing your husband over him. But that could only mean one
thing. For someone like you, someone who feels everything so deeply, it could
only mean that you loved your husband more than you loved Marcus. You even said
it yourself at my sister's wedding. And knowing you, I believe you would regret
it if you lost a love like that.”
I'm sorry to say this, but I think she
might be right.
“I know losing your daughter might have
caused some strain between the two of you, and that's completely understandable
after everything you both have been through. But you need to go back to him and work
things out. If you need couples therapy, I'll find you the best therapist. I'm
sure this is something the two of you can come back from.”
I slowly sank back into my chair.
“It's not,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” Fatima asked.
“It's not something we can come back
from.” I sighed, staring down at the table. Kylian betrayed me, and that betrayal
led to the death of my baby. I'm never going to forgive him for that, and I
refuse to live with the man who killed my daughter.”
“Bewa, you...” Joy began, but I cut her
off.
“That is all I'm going to say. Please
respect my decision and let it go,” I muttered firmly. Thankfully, they seemed
to get the message. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Joy picking up her
bag, apparently preparing to leave.
“Sit down, Joy,” I said. I saw her pause
before reluctantly putting her bag down and settling back into her seat. I
picked up the menu and began looking through it. Gradually, the others followed
suit.
“I'll prepare your divorce papers, Bewa,”
Fatima offered.
“No!” I blurted out, startling everyone
at the table.
“But it's what you want,” Joy pointed
out.
“Yes, but only after I've found my own
apartment and got back on my feet.”
“Your own apartment?” Marcus asked. “Are
you moving out?”
I sighed, mentally scolding myself for
letting that slip. After everything he had done for me, I thought he deserved
to hear that I was planning to move out of his house in private, not in front
of an audience.
“Yes. I figured you needed your space.”
“I never said that.”
“I know, but any reasonable friend would
understand. I was planning to save up for a few months, but after what Joy just
said, I believe I've overstayed my welcome.”
“But you...” Marcus began.
“Why do you need another place when you
have that huge glass house?” Joy interrupted.
“Please, can we talk about something that
has absolutely nothing to do with me?” I blurted out.
“Then what should we talk about?” she
asked, picking up her phone.
Soon, we called the waiter over and
placed our orders. While we waited for the food, light conversation continued
around the table. I was listening to the others when I felt someone's gaze on
me. I turned and found myself looking straight into Marcus's intense eyes. His
expression was difficult to read, but the intensity of his stare made me
uncomfortable. I quickly looked away.
“What?” Joy suddenly yelped.
Her phone slipped from her hand and
landed on the table.
“What is it?” her husband asked,
immediately concerned.
She picked up her phone, and within
seconds, everyone except me had gathered around her to see what was on the
screen. A chorus of gasps followed. Then, one after another, they turned to
look at me.
“What is it?” I asked, frowning. Joy practically shoved her phone into my face.
And there he was.
Kylian, with his arms wrapped around
another woman.
Fuck!
I
dropped the phone onto the table and looked away, suddenly finding the entire
conversation exhausting.
“That
is it?” Joy questioned, staring at me in disbelief.
“Yes.
What else am I supposed to do?” I asked, looking back at her. “We are getting
divorced anyway.”
“I
know, but…”
“It
does not matter” They exchanged uncertain glances, clearly unconvinced by my
response. One after another, they quietly returned to their seats, leaving an
uncomfortable silence hanging in the room.
Bewaji…
I
clenched my jaw and swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. I was never,
ever going to forgive that asshole.
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