BRIDE FOR HIRE

CHAPTER 9: MONDAY

BRIDE FOR HIRE – CHAPTER 9: MONDAY

*7:00 AM. Monday. Toronto – Airbnb.*

The alarm went off at 7 AM but neither of us slept past 5.

Tobi was in the kitchen making tea. His hands shook when he poured the hot water. I noticed because I was watching him like I might not see him do small things like this again.

*Me:* You didn’t sleep either.

*Tobi:* Neither did you.

*Me:* Do you regret it?

*Tobi:* Saying yes to you? Never.

He handed me the tea. It was too sweet. Just how I liked it. I hadn’t told him that. I’d mentioned it once in passing in Ibadan when Auntie was complaining about sugar. He remembered.

*Me:* What if they don’t believe us?

*Tobi:* Then we go down telling the truth. That’s better than going down lying.

We dressed quiet. No Mrs. Bolanle picking matching outfits this time. Just jeans, plain shirts, and the weight of Monday.

The interview was at 9 AM. Canada Immigration office, downtown Toronto. Officer Martins again.

*Me:* Do you think Amaka is already there?

*Tobi:* Doesn’t matter. We tell our story first.

We left the Airbnb at 8:15. The October air hit hard. I pulled my jacket tighter. Tobi took my hand. He didn’t let go all the way to the office.

---

*8:50 AM. Canada Immigration Office – Toronto.*

The waiting room looked the same as Friday. Same bad coffee smell, same nervous people, same plastic chairs. But today it felt different. Today it was real. No cameras. No press conference. Just us and the truth.

Amaka was there.

She sat across the room in a beige trench coat, phone in her lap, eyes on us. She didn’t smile. She didn’t need to. She had the folder. She thought she had won.

*Amaka:* You’re late.

*Tobi:* We’re on time.

*Amaka:* I hope you practiced your lies.

I wanted to say something sharp back. But Tobi squeezed my hand.

*Tobi:* Don’t. Not here.

Officer Martins opened the door at 9:00 sharp.

*Officer Martins:* Mr. and Mrs. Bolanle. Ms. Ogundele. Follow me.

We walked into Room 3. Same room as Friday. Same table, same recorder, same Canadian flag on the wall.

Officer Martins sat.

*Officer Martins:* Let’s get this on record. Ms. Ogundele claims your marriage is fraudulent. Mr. and Mrs. Bolanle, you have the right to respond before I make a decision.

Amaka sat straight, ready.

*Amaka:* I have evidence. Voice note of Mrs. Bolanle offering money. Bank transfer records. Timeline showing they met 5 days before the wedding.

Officer Martins turned to us.

*Officer Martins:* Mr. Bolanle. Your response.

Tobi looked at me once. Then he looked at Officer Martins.

*Tobi:* It’s true. The marriage started as a contract.

My chest went cold. He was saying it. He was telling her.

*Tobi:* Mrs. Bolanle contacted Chinaza because I needed a spouse to keep my permanent residency status. Chinaza needed money for her auntie’s cancer treatment. We signed an NDA. We agreed to ₦500,000. We got married in Lagos. We did the press conference. We came here for the interview.

Amaka smiled.

*Amaka:* See? Fraud.

Officer Martins raised a hand.

*Officer Martins:* Let him finish.

*Tobi:* But it stopped being a contract on day three.

He turned to me.

*Tobi:* When Chinaza told me about her auntie in Ibadan. When I saw her cry for the first time. When she stood up to my mum without flinching. I realized I didn’t want to let her go after 48 hours.

*Me:* I didn’t want to let him go either.

The words came out before I could stop them.

*Me:* We went to Ibadan. We met my auntie. She’s sick. She’s getting better. Tobi chose to go with me instead of preparing for this interview. He chose my family over his case. That’s not something you do for a contract.

Officer Martins was writing.

*Officer Martins:* Ms. Ogundele, you said you have evidence. Let’s see it.

Amaka slid the folder across the table. Voice note played. Mrs. Bolanle’s voice was clear. Bank records showed the transfer. Photos from Eko Hotel showed us stiff, uncomfortable.

*Amaka:* Fraud. Clear as day. They should be deported.

Officer Martins listened. Then she stopped the recording.

*Officer Martins:* Ms. Ogundele, this proves the marriage started as an arrangement. It does not prove it is still an arrangement.

*Amaka:* What?

*Officer Martins:* The law cares about the current state of the relationship. I asked them Friday for proof of relationship. They gave me joint account, photos, cohabitation. Today they are telling me the truth about how it started. That matters.

*Amaka:* You can’t be serious.

*Officer Martins:* I am very serious. Mr. and Mrs. Bolanle, is your relationship genuine now?

Tobi answered first.

*Tobi:* Yes.

*Me:* Yes.

*Officer Martins:* Do you intend to remain married after the 6-month conditional period?

*Tobi:* Yes.

*Me:* Yes.

*Officer Martins:* Ms. Ogundele, do you have evidence that they are not living together? That they are not in a genuine relationship now?

*Amaka:* I… no. But they lied!

*Officer Martins:* They disclosed the lie before you could use it against them. That counts. A lot.

Amaka stood up.

*Amaka:* This is unfair!

*Officer Martins:* Life is unfair. But Canadian immigration law is about genuine relationships. I believe yours is genuine now, Mr. and Mrs. Bolanle.

She stamped the file.

*Officer Martins:* Conditional approval stands. Permanent residency confirmation will be mailed in 6 months. Do not separate during that period. Do not commit fraud again.

Amaka left without saying goodbye.

She didn’t slam the door. She didn’t need to. Her face said everything.

Tobi let out a breath he’d been holding for 72 hours.

*Tobi:* We did it.

*Me:* We told the truth.

*Officer Martins:* You did. Don’t make me regret it.

She left the room.

And it was just us again.

---

*9:45 AM. Outside Immigration Office.*

The Toronto cold didn’t feel as bad anymore.

*Tobi:* You okay?

*Me:* I think so. My hands won’t stop shaking.

*Tobi:* Mine neither.

He pulled me into a hug right there on the sidewalk. People walked past. Nobody cared.

*Tobi:* We’re real now. No more contract. No more fake.

*Me:* No more fake.

*Me:* What about Mrs. Bolanle?

*Tobi:* I’ll deal with Mum. She’ll be mad. She’ll get over it. She always does.

*Me:* And Amaka?

*Tobi:* Amaka will move on. She has to. I’m not her story anymore.

My phone buzzed.

Dreame notification.

*Chapter 8 posted. 510,000 reads in 9 hours.*

Top comment: *IF THEY BREAK UP NOW I’M DELETING THE APP AND NEVER COMING BACK!!!*

*Me:* Auntie is going to faint when she hears this.

*Tobi:* Then we call her now.

We called from the sidewalk. Auntie answered on the first ring.

*Auntie:* CHINAZA! DID YOU WIN?

*Me:* We won, Auntie.

*Auntie started crying.*

*Auntie:* Thank God! Thank God! Tell Tobi I said he better take care of you!

*Tobi:* Yes Ma. I will.

She made us promise to come home for Christmas. We promised.

When we hung up, Tobi was smiling.

*Tobi:* She sounds stronger.

*Me:* She is. The chemo is working.

---

*1:00 PM. Airbnb – Toronto.*

We didn’t go sightseeing. We didn’t celebrate with suya.

We just sat on the floor of the Airbnb, backs against the couch, exhausted.

*Tobi:* What now?

*Me:* Now we live. For real.

*Tobi:* No NDA.

*Me:* No NDA.

*Tobi:* No ₦500,000.

*Me:* No ₦500,000.

*Tobi:* Just us.

*Me:* Are you scared?

*Tobi:* Terrified.

*Me:* Me too.

*Tobi:* Good. Means it matters.

He reached for my hand.

*Tobi:* Chinaza Bolanle.

*Me:* Tobi Bolanle.

We said it like a prayer.

---

*4:00 PM. Phone Call – Lagos.*

Mrs. Bolanle called.

*Mrs. Bolanle:* I heard.

*Tobi:* You heard what?

*Mrs. Bolanle:* That you told the truth. That you told them about the money.

*Tobi:* Yes Mum.

*Mrs. Bolanle was quiet for a long time.*

*Mrs. Bolanle:* You’re an i***t.

*Tobi:* Probably.

*Mrs. Bolanle:* But you’re my i***t. Don’t embarrass me again. And bring that girl home for Christmas. I want to meet my daughter-in-law properly.

She hung up.

*Tobi:* She said yes.

*Me:* She said yes.

---

*8:00 PM. Toronto – Restaurant.*

We went out. Just us. No cameras. No Mrs. Bolanle. No contract.

We ordered jollof. Tobi hated it. He ate it anyway.

*Tobi:* For you.

*Me:* For me.

*Me:* What if we mess this up?

*Tobi:* Then we mess it up together. But I’d rather try and fail than never try at all.

*Me:* That’s the second time you’ve said that.

*Tobi:* Because it’s true the second time too.

We talked until closing. About Uniport. About Auntie. About fear. About what comes after 6 months.

About real marriage. Real life. Real us.

*Tobi:* Will you marry me? For real this time?

*Me:* I already said yes.

*Tobi:* Say it again.

*Me:* Yes, Tobi Bolanle. I will marry you. For real.

He kissed me in the restaurant.

Nobody clapped. Nobody recorded.

It didn’t need to be public to be real.

---

*11:30 PM. Airbnb – Bedroom.*

We lay in bed, not sleeping.

*Tobi:* You know what’s crazy?

*Me:* What?

*Tobi:* If Mrs. Bolanle never called you, we never would have met.

*Me:* If Auntie never got sick, I never would have said yes.

*Tobi:* So pain brought us here.

*Me:* Maybe. But love is keeping us here.

*Tobi:* Do you think it’ll last?

*Me:* I don’t know. But I want to find out.

*Tobi:* Me too.

We fell asleep holding hands.

No contract. No timer. Just Monday night in Toronto, and two people who chose each other after everything.