EZINNE

A PERFECT SMILE

Ezinne’s world had changed in ways she could hardly believe. At work, she was now one of the rising stars of her company, a woman whose brilliance and elegance drew admiration wherever she went. Invitations poured in: conferences, dinners, weekend getaways with colleagues who spoke of investments, politics, and opportunities beyond Nigeria. Each step made her feel as though she was climbing a ladder with no end in sight.

But for Chike, each step she took upward was another nail in the coffin of his pride.

He watched her leave the house in tailored suits and sleek heels, her perfume lingering long after the door had shut. She was no longer the barefoot village girl who once looked at him with wide, grateful eyes. That girl was gone.

Chike still loved her or at least, that’s what he told himself on the days he wasn’t consumed by rage. But it wasn’t the kind of love that healed or gave. It was the kind that clung tightly, even when it bled.

One evening, he sat outside their apartment, his back against the wall, nursing a bottle of cheap gin. The streetlights flickered, casting broken shadows on the road. His neighbor, an old man who often played draughts with him, glanced his way.

“Chike,” the man said, shaking his head, “you don't think too much." Women, they are not worth dying for.”

Chike gave a hollow laugh. Not worth dying for? Maybe not. But worth killing for? He took another swallow of gin, the fire burning down his throat, feeding the darker thoughts that had begun to take root.

The first time the idea of poison entered his mind, it came not as a plan but as a whisper. He had been in the market, fixing a client’s car near a stall where a trader shouted about rat poison. The words seemed to leap from the air straight into his chest.

“E go kill dem sharp sharp,” the trader said, holding up a small packet.

Chike stared at it longer than he should have.

That night, as he lay beside Ezinne, he turned the thought over and over in his mind. Would it be quick? Would she even know? His heart pounded with guilt at the mere imagination, but the image refused to leave. Instead, it grew, feeding on his anger, his humiliation, his feeling of betrayal.

The next morning, he was up early, unusually cheerful, making her breakfast again.

“Chike, what’s into you these days?” Ezinne asked, laughing as she adjusted her earrings in the mirror.

“Nothing,” he said, his smile wide, almost too wide. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

She nodded absentmindedly, scrolling through her phone, her attention already elsewhere.

Chike’s smile lingered long after she left.

Over the next few weeks, he perfected the mask. He became affectionate again, attentive in ways that unsettled Ezinne. When she came home late, he no longer asked questions. When she ignored his touch, he no longer sulked. Instead, he smiled. Always smiling.

But behind the smile, his plan was taking shape.

He began researching quietly. At the mechanic's shop, while others laughed and joked, Chike listened to conversations about local herbs, about men who had used them for revenge. He remembered stories from his village of hunters who laced food with poisonous roots to kill wild animals. He asked questions casually, laughing them off as mere curiosity. But each answer became another piece of the puzzle in his mind.

In the evenings, he started experimenting in secret. He bought bitter kola, grinded strange leaves, mixed small powders into water, and watched how quickly insects died when they sipped from the bowls he placed outside.

Each experiment hardened his resolve.

Ezinne, oblivious, went on with her life. She was preparing for yet another promotion at work, and her conversations with Chike grew thinner. She spoke less to him, confided less, and sometimes looked at him with something close to pity.

One evening, as she folded her clothes into a suitcase for a three day business trip, Chike sat watching her from the bed. His smile never wavered, but his thoughts were heavy.

“You’re traveling again?” he asked lightly.

“Yes,” she replied, not looking at him. “It’s important, Chike. This is a chance for me to present before top executives. If I do well, I could get a transfer to Abuja. Imagine the opportunities there.”

His chest tightened. Abuja. If she left, if she slipped completely beyond his reach, he would lose everything. Every sacrifice, every drop of sweat, every humiliation he had endured for her it would all vanish into thin air.

“You’ve changed,” he said quietly.

She turned then, frowning slightly. “Chike, we’ve talked about this. Growth is not a bad thing. You should think about improving yourself too. Maybe go back to school, learn a new skill”

“Improve myself?” he cut her off, his smile twisting. “So that I can be worthy of you?”

Ezinne sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. Please, let’s not argue. I have a lot on my mind.”

But Chike wasn’t listening anymore. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the sound of her voice, the way she spoke of him, like a project, something broken that needed fixing.

That night, while Ezinne slept soundly, Chike lay awake, staring at her face in the dim glow of the streetlight that slipped through the window. He traced the outlines of her lips, her jaw, the smoothness of her skin.

“You think you’re above me,” he whispered so softly it barely escaped his lips. “But without me, you are nothing. And I’ll make sure you never forget.”

The next day, he went to the market again. This time, he didn’t just stare at the packet of rat poison. He bought it.

The trader handed it to him with a smile. “Na strong one, my brother. Use am well.”

Chike’s hand tightened around the packet as he slid it into his pocket. For the rest of the day, he felt an eerie calm settle over him. It was as though a decision had finally been made, and all that remained was execution.

When he returned home that evening, Ezinne greeted him absentmindedly, still glued to her laptop. He kissed her forehead and went straight to the kitchen. His smile stretched wide as he boiled water, humming softly, like a man preparing the most ordinary meal.

Only this time, the meal would carry more than food.

It would carry judgment.

And Chike was ready to serve it.