When the mask fell

“ If the righteous fall seven times, he shall rise again. What about when an evil doer falls? He falls completely.” These were the words of my bleeding heart as I walked through the big wedding hall. The wedding hall shimmered like something pulled out of a dream. Crystal chandeliers spilled warm light over rows of ivory chairs, and the soft hum of violins floated through the air like a blessing whispered by angels. Rose petals carpeted the aisle and I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that radiated from this place. The warm light from the chandelier hung in the middle of the hall, brightening every part of the hall. The walls were beautifully decorated in emerald green and gold linen, as the groom's mother insisted. “I want something that commands royalty. Colors that turn heads.” Not me expecting to see what the magazines and blogs would say concerning today of all days in the world. A wedding where high authorities are only invited. And I'm fully ready to connect with like minds, only if that was in my plan for today. The community did not sleep a night before due to the wedding preparation, the packing, the calls, and the visitor's arrival. It has been a very busy week for both the groom's family and the bride's. Everyone is seen going from one position to another, either carrying things in their hands, some making calls while others are busy getting the necessary ingredients for the food. Soon the wedding will start and the groom has yet to get his dress. The frustration in his voice was louder than the sound coming from the invisible speaker in the hall. “Hey, Man of the day, what does it feel like to be experiencing your big day ?” I said jokingly “ Biola, the fashion designer refused to pick up my calls and the dress is yet to be delivered” He paused and continued “Can you please pla..cee a.. hmm, a call through to him abeg (please)?” He stutters “ Not a problem. I will do that right away” I didn't complete my words before he hung up the phone on me. I decide to head out of the hall to put a call through to the fashion designer because the noise in the hall won't permit me to hear myself. I held on to the flair of my gown while my heels made the announcement sound after me. On my way out, I bumped into Chioma, one of my classmates in college. She looks so beautiful, chubby, and radiant. She was dressed in the fabric picked by the groom's family. Her head tie matches the dress and anyone could convince her for the bride. Her smile has always been the most noticeable expression on her face as she carries it everywhere she goes. Seeing her, I was startled. The look on her face shows being shocked and also trying to compose herself, but she is so perfect at getting herself together. I understand that look. Besides, I wasn't expecting her at the event. Chioma of all people? How? “ Is this the same Biola from Mount Olivette Primary school??” “Ghost or alive?” Her words tapped me back to reality as I struggled to form words in my mouth. It feels like my tongue was cut off or probably twisted. “ It can't be true!” “Chioma.. What are you doing here? It's been ages babe” I decided to fake my surprise. In no minute are we all around each other. She held me so close that I could perceive the scent of her hair gel. We hugged and let go of each other. It was like we've been friends forever. It feels so genuine. “I'm one of the groom's friends but I'm specially invited by the bride. She has been one of my best friends” She explained. “That's beautiful. As you know, I've been the groom's best friend since grade one, so I'm here to do my duties” I said. We both chuckled at the sound of that. Without too many words, I had to excuse myself to go call the fashion designer. I picked up my phone from my purse and began to dial the man's number. At first, it wasn't reachable. At the second dial, he picked up the call. “Hello, who's speaking?” Fedrick answered. The sound of passing trucks could be heard underneath. It seems he is on his way somewhere. “It's me, Biola, the lady who followed Andrew to your office for a fitting, the last time”.. I said and swallowed. I don't know why I feel tense while speaking to him. It feels very strange. “ He said you've not been picking up his calls. They are waiting for the groom's suit please!” I summoned courage. “ What dress are you talking about? I sent the dress to the house yesterday. Has it not been delivered?” He replied again, making me more confused and scared. I hate being in situations like this. The program is in thirty minutes time and all of this is happening? I breathe in and out for the last time, trying to caution myself from saying anything that would make him angry. “No. It has not been delivered yet. Help us reconfirm if it's the one you sent earlier. Just give me a text as soon as possible” I hung up the call immediately. It's not meant to be this tense. I really can't say why it feels weird talking to him. I just know something is wrong somewhere and I am not gonna watch anyone ruin my friend's big day. I set out to go find the bride. The guests are now coming into the halls. Everyone dresses in different styles with gold, silver, and diamond ornaments. Big people are not hard to notice, they come glittering. It looked like a fashion competition that I had to start complaining about my own choice of dress. Fortunately for me, Mrs. Adams, the bride's mother, came in as I was about to find the bride. I hurried towards her. She recognizes me easily. It's obvious on her face that she's so happy. She was dressed in Emerald green Iro and Gold Buba. The dress was split with natural gold beadings. She was literally glittering under the warm light in the hall. Her head tie was large enough to take the place of three people at once. You can easily tell she loves partying. A golden necklace coiled around her neck and her earrings kept telling everyone she was not a regular African woman. I quickly went on my knees. “Ekaaro ma (Good morning, Ma)” She smiled widely and placed her palm lightly on my bowed head. “ Kaaro, Bawoni, my dear? You look beautiful this morning.” “Thank you ma.” I rose to my feet, adjusting the flair of my gown. “Please ma, have you seen the bride? There’s a small issue we need to sort out before the ceremony begins.” Her smile thinned, just a little. Mothers sense trouble the way rain senses the earth. “She is inside, with the makeup artist. Is everything okay?” “Yes ma, nothing serious,” I lied quickly. “Just wedding logistics.” She nodded, already distracted by the greetings pouring in from all directions. I slipped past the growing crowd and moved toward the inner corridor that led to the bridal room. The noise from the hall thickened—laughter, clinking glasses, hurried footsteps, voices rising in excitement. The wedding was waking up. My phone vibrated in my palm. I stopped walking. The name on the screen made my stomach dip. Fedrick. For a second, I just stared at it, as though the letters might rearrange themselves into something less unsettling. Then I opened the message. “ I’m so sorry for the mix-up. The package sent yesterday wasn’t the groom’s suit. It was another client’s order. The groom’s suit is with me. I’m on my way to the venue right now to deliver it myself. Please, don’t panic. I’ll be there before the ceremony starts.” My chest loosened with a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Relief came first. Warm, heavy, almost dizzying. Then, right behind it, suspicion followed like a shadow that refused to detach itself from my feet. Why would a professional mix up something this important? And why did he suddenly feel the need to bring it himself? I typed back quickly: “Please don’t delay." The ceremony starts in less than thirty minutes.” The reply came almost immediately. “I know. I’m close already.” Close. The word settled in my mind in a way I didn’t like. I slipped my phone back into my purse and resumed walking, but my steps were slower now, more cautious. The violins swelled in the hall, guests taking their seats, excitement rippling through the air like electricity before a storm. Everyone thought today was about love and vows and happily-ever-afters. Only I felt the thin c***k running beneath the celebration. And cracks, when stepped on at the wrong time, have a way of swallowing people whole. Fortunately for me, I found the bride dressed up already. She was dressed in a handmade traditional wedding attire. The wool of the dress is so pure, silky, and divine. The top was made in a corset waist, divided with pearls and pure stones. She was literally going to steal everyone's gaze at her entrance. The smile on my face gave her the assurance she's been expecting all this time. “I know you love the dress, don't you?” Margaret muttered “Obviously, you still read minds! Loving the dress is an understatement” I said. I hurried towards her as I began to adjust the edge of her top. The other bridesmaids are busy with their bracelets, earrings, and make-up. They all dress in a gold gown with a touch of emerald green as flower designs on the dress. The air in the bridal chamber was thick with incense and quiet prayers. Outside, the slow thunder of talking drums rolled through the courtyard, each beat announcing that the bride of the day was about to be revealed to all expecting eyes. Everyone's heartbeat starts beating in anticipation. “Careful,” Margaret laughed softly, swatting my hand away. “You’ll wrinkle it with all your fussing.” “I’d rather wrinkle silk than watch my best friend walk into history with a crooked corset,” I teased. “Only God knows how the fashion designer missed that part of the dress” I thought in my head. She chuckled, but her eyes shimmered with something heavier than joy. Beneath the smile, her beauty felt unreal, just like a goddess dressed for sacrifice. The pearls stitched into her bodice caught the light, throwing tiny stars across her skin. ______________________________________________________________________________________________ Andrew on the other side was done dressing. He stands facing the mirror in the right corner of the room opposite the door that leads to the room. The sound of the continuous beating of the talking drum filled the room but that was not as overwhelming as the truth inside of him. He was sweating profusely even though the air conditioner was on. He dabbed his face for the umpteenth time thinking that would stop the trembling on his face. He looked into the mirror and smiled. “ The day to tell the truth is here. Go there, let out your fear, and start a new life.” He muttered to himself as though someone else was standing behind the mirror. He was still there when Dr. John banged into the room without knocking. The door slammed against the wall with a sharp c***k. “Andrew!” Dr. John’s voice filled the room before his presence did. He stepped in, tall and immaculately dressed in his ceremonial agbada, the rich fabric embroidered with symbols of wealth and lineage. His walking stick tapped once against the black tiled floor as his sharp eyes scanned the room and landed on his son’s reflection in the mirror. He startled at first, then resumed like a music decoder. “What are you still doing here?” he barked. “The hall is on its feet already. Do you know how many chiefs are waiting for you? Do you know how many cameras are pointed at the entrance?” Andrew flinched. “I was just about…sorry. Was adjusting a few things,” he replied, forcing himself not to show his fear. His hands betrayed him, still clutching the handkerchief damp with sweat. Dr. John scoffed and walked closer, stopping behind him, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Father and son—two men wearing the same face, yet carrying very different burdens. He placed his hands on his son's shoulder. “Today is not the day to look unsure,” Dr. John said, straightening Andrew’s collar with firm fingers. “A man walks into marriage with his head high and a calm mind. Not like someone about to confess to a crime.” Andrew swallowed. “ When did he start reading minds?” he thought, looking deep into his father's eyes. The words landed too close to the truth. “I’m ready,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. Dr. John studied him for a moment longer than necessary. Something unreadable flickered in the older man’s eyes. Impatience… or suspicion. “You’ve always been dramatic. Drama king of all time ” he muttered. “This wedding seals more than love, Andrew. It seals alliances. It seals respect. Do not embarrass me in front of these people.” “Is Mr. Folorunsho in the hall already?” Andrew summoned the courage to ask the last question before stepping out. “ Of course!” “ You know how much he cares about you and everything that concerns you,” Dr. John answered, turning back to the door. “Ehh!” He almost screamed out but he quickly controlled himself. The drums outside grew louder, faster, calling the groom to his destiny. A knock sounded at the door this time, hesitant. “Sir,” one of the groomsmen called from outside, “they’re ready for the groom’s entrance.” Dr. John paused, glancing back at Andrew. “Whatever is eating you alive,” he said coldly, “swallow it. Today, you smile. Today, you perform. You are the son of a lion, so act like one” He opened the door wide, and the noise of the hall crashed into the room. Cheers, drums, ululations, and the roar of a waiting crowd. Andrew took one last look at his reflection. The man in the mirror smiled back. But his eyes were already begging for forgiveness. Then he stepped forward. ____________________________________________________________ The hall fell into a reverent hush as Andrew took his place in the ceremonial hall. The drums softened into a slow, steady rhythm—no longer celebratory, but solemn. It's about time to seal the fate of two lovers. Margaret stood opposite him, radiant and angelic. The pearls on her corset glimmered under the chandelier light, and the emerald flowers on the bridesmaids’ gowns formed a living garden behind her. It was her perfect day. The crowd leaned forward as if afraid to miss the moment that would be told for generations. Mr. Folorunsho was seen adjusting his Cap, while winking at Andrew from afar. Andrew keeps ignoring everyone's stare as if it would kill him if he stared back. The officiating elder cleared his throat, lifting the carved staff of union. “Today,” he began, “we do not only witness love. We witness the binding of families, the joining of bloodlines, and the sealing of promises before the living and the ancestors.” A murmur of approval rippled through the hall. Still silent but with a feeling of joy. Andrew felt his pulse thudding in his ears. The words binding families pressed on his chest like a weight. He looked at Margaret, and for a fleeting second, her eyes searched his face. This time not for romance, but for reassurance. She wasn't sure of what was wrong but she knew Andrew was not fine. The elder turned to Andrew. “Son of John Adekunle,” he said, his voice carrying across the hall, “do you stand here of your own will, free of deception, free of hidden bonds, ready to take this woman as your wife?” The word “free of deception, free of hidden bonds" echoed like clanging cymbals in his ears. The silence was unbearable. Andrew opened his mouth. The hall held its breath. “I… stand here of my own will,” he said at last. The words escaped him, fragile as glass. “And I take Margaret as my wife.” A wave of applause surged through the guests. Dr. John exhaled in relief, a little smile formed on his face carving his mustache, and he nodded stiffly from his seat of honor. The elder turned to Margaret. “Daughter of grace,” he intoned, “do you stand here with a heart unburdened, ready to walk this path with this man, in joy and in sorrow, in truth and in truth?” Margaret’s lips trembled, just enough for me to notice. I gave her a noticeable wink to go ahead. “I do,” she said softly. The elder held their hands together, raised them for everyone to see. “Then let the vows be spoken.” Andrew felt the warmth of Margaret’s fingers in his. The drums faded into a distant echo. The crowd disappeared. It was just the two of them now, and the truth he had promised himself he would finally speak. He inhaled. “Margaret,” he began, his voice steadying with every word, “from the day I met you, you became the peace I didn’t know I needed. I vow to honor you, to protect you, and to walk with you in honesty…” The word honesty lingered in the air, heavier than the rest. He hesitated, just for a second too long. And in that second, Margaret knew. The hesitation in Andrew’s voice was a c***k on an egg. Very small, but delicate. Before the silence could grow teeth, I stepped forward with a bright, practiced laugh. My heart was beating too fast but I had to do this. “Ah! You’re making her too emotional already,” I teased, clapping lightly. “If you continue like this, the bride will finish all her tears before the dance even begins.” A ripple of laughter rolled through the hall. Mrs. Adams could not control her laughter causing another round of chatter and claps. If seconds, the tension loosened. The elder gave me a sharp look, but continued. Andrew found his rhythm again, finishing his vows with the safe, expected promises. Margaret responded, her voice steady, her smile perfectly placed—only her eyes betrayed the storm behind them. From the corner of my eye, I caught Fredrick. He wasn’t smiling like everyone else. His hand dipped into the inner pocket of his suit, then withdrew, empty. “Who wears a suit to a traditional wedding?” I asked myself, trying to connect the dots. His gaze flicked to the balcony above the hall, then to the exit door, then back to Andrew. Too alert. Too deliberate. It looked like the devil was about to make a grand entrance. Across the aisle, Chioma’s fingers moved in quick, nervous signs.. two taps to her wrist, a subtle shake of her head. I noticed she wasn't wearing a wristwatch. “ What could this be?” “ Warning? Oh, please, not now.” The elder raised his staff. “By the witness of the living and the ancestors, these vows are sealed.” The hall erupted with drums and cheers. The music filled the air as the families of both the groom and the bride congratulated each other. The bride and groom were declared one. Then Andrew stepped forward again. “Wait, everyone” he said, raising a hand. The noise stopped immediately, confused murmurs spreading like a wave. “There’s something I need to say—” Mr. Folorunsho’s eyes widen in surprise. The jubilating Dr. John hurried towards him, his Cap flying out of his head. Fredrick is nowhere to be found. I could hear the heartbeat of everyone giving different rhymes from afar. The confusion on Mrs. Adekunle, the groom's mother, is so visible as she adjusts her loosening wrapper. Before I could utter a word, the sound came out of nowhere. A sharp c***k split the air. For a heartbeat, no one understood it. Then Andrew’s body jerked. The smile froze on his face as his eyes widened. Not in fear, but in shock, as if he couldn’t believe the truth had found him before he could speak it. Another sound in the air, Chioma collapsed. Margaret screamed. Andrew staggered, his knees buckling. The white ceremonial cloth slipped from their joined hands as he collapsed onto the polished floor, blood blooming across the ivory fabric like a cursed flower. Everywhere scattered, everyone running for their lives. Chairs scraped, women wailed, the drums died mid-beat. Fredrick lunged forward, his eyes scanning the hall, the balcony, the exits. I run towards Chioma. Bent down to check her pulse. She grabbed my arm, her nails biting into my skin. “Did you see who—” she began, her voice breaking. I couldn’t answer. My eyes were fixed on Andrew’s fallen body…and on the secret he had been hiding.