Soul of a partner

Chapter 6

She wanted to run. To leave the house. To go anywhere, her legs could carry her. But where would she go? Her husband was far away in another country. She had no parents, no relatives that she knew of her late guardian. She once told her her parents never mentioned any close family. And now, Chijoke's scheme is about to cut her off from the only family she thought she had left.

She wiped her tears and forced herself to stand, but her knees were weak. She leaned against the wall and whispered to herself, “Adaeze, you have to be strong. You can’t break down now.”

That night, she locked her door from the inside, pushing a stool and a small table against it. The broken bolt made her uneasy the barrier could be pushed aside if Chijoke decided to come again, but she couldn’t risk sleeping without at least some protection. She curled up on the worn-out bed, her eyes wide open in the darkness. Every sound, the creak of wood, the rustle of leaves outside made her jump. She strained her ears for Chijoke’s footsteps, but thankfully he didn’t come.

Still, she didn’t sleep. She only cried silently into her pillow until dawn broke.

The next morning, she went to her akara spot, but her hands refused to cooperate. Mama didn’t come with her again. She didn’t even respond when she greeted her—unless she should count her loud hiss as one. Her mind was far away, and customers noticed. Some walked off murmuring, others stared at her with pity. She couldn’t blame them though; her swollen eyes and trembling hands said it all.

By midday, she gave up. She packed her things and went to visit Ifeoma. She was the only one she could talk to now—the only one who still believed her.

When she got to her house, she welcomed her warmly, but the moment she saw her face, her smile faded.

“Adaeze, what happened? You look like you haven’t slept all night,” she said, pulling her inside.

She broke down in her arms. Everything spilled out—Mama’s reaction, the slaps, Chijoke’s lies, and finally his disgústing condition for clearing her name.

Ifeoma’s eyes widened. “Chineke! Chijoke said that? And Mama believed him?”

She nodded, sobbing harder.

“Heeiii! This is serious,” she said, pacing through the small room. “But Adaeze, what about your husband? Why don’t you contact him? He needs to know before these people overtake you. This is not an issue to handle with softness nne.”

A humorless, dry laugh escaped her lips.

“Ifeoma, are you trying to joke with me? Contact my husband—with what phone? Do you have one? Or do you mean I should go and beg Chijoke on his own? Ha! My sister, don’t go there o.” She sighed deeply, fresh tears streaming as it dawned on her that there was literally no way to reach her husband before Mama and Chijoke did.

“Heiii, Adaeze, stop crying bikonu. This is not the time to cry. So you mean to tell me Chijoke is the only one in that family who has Dozie’s phone number?” she asked, staring at her.

Adaeze looked confused. “Ifeoma, what is ‘fon namba’?”

It took her a few minutes to understand what she was asking. She almost laughed but caught herself, realizing how serious the matter was.

“Adaeze, it’s phone number. It means you need to be able to communicate with your husband,” she explained.

“I don’t know about that one,” Adaeze said, shaking her head. “But Chijoke is the only one with a ‘fonu’ in our family. He’s the only one who can call Dozie. And you know I don’t know how to operate that thing. If not, I would have checked it the day he left it in the bathroom. Heiii, Ifeoma, I’m in serious trouble o.” She held her chest, wailing softly.

Ifeoma fell silent for a moment, then turned to Adaeze as if a thought had crossed her mind. “Adaeze, listen to me. You must not give in to him. Do you hear me? If you fall into his trap, it will destroy you completely, because he’ll keep asking for more. That will only make things worse.”

Adaeze was a little hurt that Ifeoma for once thought she'd stoop so low.

“Come what may, I'll never succumb to the will of Chijoke. Never. But Ifeoma,” she said weakly, “what if Mama tells my husband first? He’ll never look at me the same way again. Heiii!! ewooo! Chijoke achiputakwa m okpa n’ezi o. (Nnamdi has put me into trouble!)”

Ifeoma held her hands firmly. “Then we must find a way to expose Chijoke before he ruins you. God cannot allow lies to win forever. You have to stand strong.”

She wanted to believe her. She wanted to hold on to hope. But deep inside, fear still gnawed at her. If only she had a phone. If only she had learned to use one before Dozie traveled.

Even her husband didn’t own a phone when he was still there; he only learned with Chijoke’s. And to her, having a phone was like building a house—she never understood why something so small could be so expensive.

She regretted ever agreeing when Dozie suggested that his mother and Chijoke should stay with her.

As she left Ifeoma’s house, her final words echoed in her mind: “The truth will come out, Adaeze. Just hold on. Don’t give up.”

She wished she had her faith. But as she walked home, all she could see in her mind were Mama’s slaps, Chijoke’s smirk, and the ticking time before her husband heard a story that could shatter her marriage forever.

Still, she made up her mind. She would try to sneak Chijoke’s phone to Ifeoma, so she could help her get Dozie’s number. It wouldn’t be easy—but she knew God was on her side. He does not support intimidation, so he would