THE BRIDE HE NEVER CHOSE

The sun was already high in the sky, shining over Chief Adeyemi’s compound in Ikeja. Cars lined the street, drivers honked impatiently, and guests in colorful aso-ebi bustled around like excited bees. It was supposed to be a perfect wedding day. Hannah Adeyemi, the eldest daughter of the family, was set to marry Senator Rakeem Price - the billionaire politician everyone respected and feared. The Adeyemis had spent months preparing for this day. Caterers had been hired, musicians were tuning their drums, and photographers were already snapping pictures of guests in gele and agbada. But inside the bride’s room, everything was falling apart. “Mama, she’s not here.” Blessing’s shaky voice filled the room. She had checked the bathroom, the balcony, even under the bed, as if Hannah could somehow be hiding there. The room was a mess - lipstick uncapped on the dresser, jewelry scattered, the white heels abandoned on the rug. The wedding gown hung neatly on the hanger, untouched. Mama Adeyemi’s hands trembled as she clutched her wrapper tighter around her chest. “Somebody should tell me where my daughter is o! Hannah cannot just disappear like this! Chai! Which kind wahala is this?” Chief Adeyemi was pacing back and forth, his agbada swishing as he moved. His normally proud face looked pale. “Stop shouting, woman. You want the whole world to hear? Let us think first.” But his hands were on his head, his steps restless. Blessing’s heart was pounding. She knew what this meant. Guests were waiting. The senator’s family was waiting. And the senator himself - a man known for his pride and temper - was also waiting. “Mummy, maybe she just went to see someone outside,” Blessing whispered, though she didn’t believe her own words. “Outside ke? When her wedding is about to start?” Auntie Dupe burst into the room, her gele already tilted from stress. “I’ve checked the garden, I’ve checked the kitchen, even the bathroom near the hall. That girl is not anywhere around this compound. God help us!” Blessing swallowed hard. A memory rushed back. Just last night, Hannah had turned to her while removing her makeup. “If I had my way,” Hannah had muttered, “I’d run away and never marry that man.” At the time, Blessing thought her sister was only joking. But now, seeing the empty chair, the untouched gown, her heart sank. Oh God… did she really do it? Did Hannah run away? Blessing felt her chest tighten, her palms clammy. Outside, the musicians had started playing a talking drum beat. The guests were clapping and laughing, unaware of the storm brewing inside. Suddenly, Chief stopped pacing. He turned to Blessing, his face hard like stone. “You,” he said, his deep voice trembling with authority. “You will wear that gown.” The room went silent. Blessing froze. “Daddy?” her voice came out in a whisper. “What are you saying?” “You heard me.” His voice rose, echoing off the walls. “Your sister has disgraced us. But this wedding must go on. If not, everything is finished for us. You will marry Senator Price today.” Blessing staggered back like she had been slapped. “Daddy, no! You can’t mean it. I can’t do this!” Mama gasped, covering her mouth with her palm. Auntie Dupe muttered, “Jesu!” under her breath. Chief’s eyes were red, his face desperate. “Do you know what is at stake? Do you know how much that man has spent already? If this wedding fails, our family name is ruined. The debts hanging on my head will finish us. The shame will kill me. Blessing, do you want to watch me die?” Blessing’s lips trembled. She thought of Samuel - her Samuel. The boy who always walked her home from choir practice, who promised to marry her one day. His smile, his soft voice, his dreams of building a small house together. Tears welled in her eyes. She shook her head slowly. “Daddy, please… don’t do this to me.” But Chief’s voice thundered again: “This wedding must hold. Even if Hannah has disgraced us, you will save this family.” Mama moved slowly, as if in a trance. She took the heavy lace gown from the hanger and placed it in Blessing’s hands. Blessing stared at it, her vision blurred with tears. The fabric felt like iron chains. Her whole body trembled. “I can’t,” she whispered. “You will,” Chief barked. “Do you want us to be the laughingstock of Lagos? Do you want the senator to destroy us? Blessing, if you love this family, you will wear this gown.” The drummers outside were louder now, their rhythms calling the bride who was not there. Guests were shifting in their seats, waiting. Blessing looked at the gown, then at her father’s stern face, her mother’s broken eyes, her aunt’s anxious hands. And slowly, painfully, she realized she had no choice. Her knees felt weak as Mama and Auntie Dupe began to dress her, pulling the gown over her trembling body, fixing the veil over her face. Blessing’s tears soaked into the lace, hidden from everyone’s eyes. She was about to walk into a marriage built on lies. The bridal train knocked on the door. The bridal train knocked on the door. “Madam, it’s time!” Blessing’s heart raced so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest. She wanted to scream, to tear off the gown, to run just like Hannah. But Mama’s hands pushed her gently forward, her aunt whispering prayers under her breath. Chief stood at the door like a soldier, his jaw clenched, watching her every move. The door creaked open, and in that moment the sound of the compound swallowed her whole. The talking drums, the chatter, the laughter, the excited cheer that went up the moment the bride appeared. All of it hit Blessing like a wave. The world outside had no idea it wasn’t Hannah behind the veil. Her legs trembled as she stepped out. The lace gown was heavy on her body, each bead pressing into her skin like punishment. The veil covered her face, blurring her vision, but not enough to hide the curious stares of the guests. Phones flashed, cameras clicked, voices called out, “Our beautiful bride! God bless your home!” Blessing wanted the ground to open and swallow her. Step after step, she forced her feet to move, carried by the bridal train down the long red carpet. Her bouquet shook in her hands. She could feel sweat trickling down her back even though the sun had softened. With every step, one thought screamed in her mind.This is not my wedding. This is not my husband. I don’t belong here. At the end of the aisle, standing tall in a perfectly tailored white agbada, was Senator Rakeem Price. The man she was about to marry. Even from afar, Blessing could see the impatience in his stance, the way his broad shoulders stiffened, the way his jaw was clenched tight. He didn’t look like a man waiting for love. He looked like a man guarding his pride. And he thought he was waiting for Hannah. Blessing’s throat tightened. Her chest ached with every step closer. She could hear the whispers already starting as she approached. A murmur here, a side glance there. The guests were noticing. Something about the bride didn’t seem right. Would he see it too? Would he pull back the veil and expose her in front of the whole world? Her knees weakened, but she kept walking. The closer she got, the heavier her heart became. The man she was about to face was powerful, cold, and known for his unforgiving temper. And when his sharp eyes finally landed on her beneath the veil, she felt her soul freeze. In that instant, Blessing knew one thing with terrifying clarity -Senator Rakeem Price was not going to forgive this.