Strangling Ties

When will it end?

pain but we didn’t sympathize with them as they deserved everything happening to them. But instead of them to introspect and get better, they moved on to the next after even though that one decided to be a truant right from the beginning, his reason for his truancy, no one knew but that made him come out of their shackles easily before they could completely ruin his life by trying to take hold of it. After Zaid left for London, they lost a bit of zeal to do anything so we had a little rest even though they still tried to control us subtly, they made Kay go to their school of choice, made me take the course they wanted and made Tay change his dream course and he didn’t even argue. Not that we couldn't fight for ourselves, our elder siblings tried to make us have the balls to stand up to them but we couldn’t, since we ourselves didn’t have anything strong enough to fight for. We lived, yes but on eggshells, they were like a ticking time bomb waiting for the perfect time to blow off and the time didn’t take too long to come. The family truant from the beginning Kay, who deliberately always went against their wishes ever since he saw how Happiness was treated for going against their wishes at the last minute but my parents didn’t pay much attention to him because they only focus on the child they see as useful for the family and ignore the others then move to the next when the one they depend on fight back and break out. So my parents always knew Kay as a truant so i guess they went well to prepare. Only, this time, they didn’t shout. They didn’t starve him for three days like they did to happiness. They didn’t even chase him away like Happiness and Zaid. No. This time, they went for something darker.

One Sunday afternoon, while the house was quiet and Kay was out playing ball with his friends, they called a “family meeting.” At first, we thought it was about church contributions or one of their endless charity galas, but when Kay walked in sweaty and smiling, their faces lit up — and not in a good way. “We’ve decided,” my father said, fingers drumming on the table, “that Kay will not waste away his life. Since he refuses to follow the proper path, we’ve found him… an alternative.”

I remember Kay’s frown. “What do you mean?”

My mother smiled like she’d just secured a political appointment. “You’re getting married. Next month.”

The room went still. She pulled out a photo — a woman almost twice Kay’s age, dripping in jewelry.

“She’s the daughter of Chief Adekunle. A strong connection for our family name. She doesn’t care about your past… as long as you behave.”

It was insane. Kay was barely twenty five. They were literally bartering him off like a business deal, just to attach the Adeyemi name to another influential family. Kay laughed, at first because he thought it was a joke. But my parents didn’t blink. My father even leaned forward.

“You think this is about you, boy? It’s about this family. You will do this, or you’ll find yourself exactly where your other siblings ended up… and trust me, you won’t like that.”

They weren’t bluffing. We’d seen them erase people from the family before. And in that moment, I realized this wasn’t about curbing Kay’s truancy. It was about locking him into a life so tight, so controlled, that even his rebellion would be useless. And the worst part? They’d already announced the engagement to Chief Adekunle’s family before even telling Kay. I guess the goal was to trap him to not be able to say no or refuse, they didn’t give him a choice and they really thought deep in them they would be able to win against him. Little did they know that Kay wasn’t a truant because he wants to be, but he’s just like that because he doesn’t want to be put in a tight spot like they did to Happiness and Zaid. Then Kay took them out without making them suspicious. He knew that if he relaxed now, they'd suspect so he kept on refusing them while carrying out his plan. Kay didn’t calm down. He didn’t suddenly become polite or obedient like someone plotting in the shadows. No — he doubled down. He skipped meetings with Chief Adekunle’s family. He deliberately showed up late to every “serious” family function. He argued at the dinner table. Once, he even wore ripped jeans to church, just to watch my mother’s face crumple in disgust. To my parents, it was the same old Kay — the stubborn truant who’d been a thorn in their side since the beginning. They rolled their eyes and told everyone, “Don’t worry, we’ll fix him before the wedding.”

What they didn’t know was that every reckless move was part of his cover. While they were too busy complaining about his “useless behaviour,” he was using their own obsession with status against them. Kay started secretly recording every conversation — the ones where they admitted to breaking our siblings and being the reason why they left home early, the ones where they discussed the marriage like it was a business deal, even the ones where they bragged about lying to the community. He collected bank statements, voice notes, and text messages. Then he pulled his final stunt.

On the morning of the introduction ceremony, when the compound was full of guests and the photographers were setting up, Kay disappeared. The panic was immediate — people were whispering, my mother was pacing, and my father was on the phone barking orders. An hour later, the giant LED screen hired for the ceremony flickered to life. Instead of the family’s slideshow, a video began to play.

It was Kay. Not smiling, not polite — furious.

He exposed everything, right there in front of Chief Adekunle, the guests, the church elders, and half the town. He named every sibling they’d “erased,” told how they only valued children who could make them look good, and explained that this wedding wasn’t love — it was a transaction.

LED Screen Video Begins]

The video opens with Kay sitting on a bed in a plain room. The lighting is harsh, the camera a little shaky — but his voice is steady and loud enough to cut through the murmurs in the compound.

Kay:

"If you’re watching this, it means my dear parents are probably looking for me right now. Maybe they’re telling you I’m ‘on my way.’ Maybe they’re lying the way they always do. But I’m not coming."

He leans forward, eyes burning.

"You all know the Smith name. You think it means class, discipline, achievement. Let me tell you what it really means — control, manipulation, and the quiet erasing of anyone who doesn’t serve their image."

"Happiness? Zaid? You remember them, right? The ones they said went abroad and to Lagos? They didn’t choose to go. They ran away because they were almost ruined. Because in this family, your dreams, your world, all evolve around the family, the family name and my Parent’s image."

He pauses, letting the words sink in.

"Now it’s my turn. My parents decided that instead of fixing their relationship with me, they’d sell me off to Chief Adekunle’s daughter. Not for love, not for my happiness, but so the Smith name could shine brighter in society gossip. They didn’t care that I didn’t agree. They didn’t even care that I’m twenty five years old. To them, I’m not a son. I’m a trophy they can display."

Kay’s tone hardens.

"Well, here’s the thing — I’m not your trophy. I’m not your project. And I refuse to be a prisoner in a marriage that only benefits two selfish families."

He picks up a folder from the bed and drops a handful of papers in front of the camera.

"These are receipts. Screenshots, voice notes, bank records. Proof of every lie they’ve told about our siblings. Proof of the conversations where they planned this wedding like a business deal. Proof that the Smith reputation you’re clapping for is built on fear and silence."

His voice rises, each word sharp.

"You wanted to make me the example of a ‘reformed’ child? Fine. I am an example — of what happens when you try to cage someone who refuses to be owned. By the time you’re watching this, I’m gone. A different country. A different life. And you’ll never use me for your name again."

Kay leans closer to the camera, voice dropping to a low, cutting tone.

"You’ve controlled a lot of people, Mum. Dad. But you don’t control me anymore.

And you’ve ruined Happiness’s dreams, but you can’t ruin mine. I’ll go out there to become a very successful auto seller and i’ll do it like Zaid did, I’ll change my name to the one you’ll never have access to"

The screen cuts to black.

[LED Screen Ends]

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. The kind of heavy, suffocating silence where everyone’s eyes dart around but no one dares to speak first. Then it starts a few sharp gasps from the front row. A murmured “Jesu Kristi!” from one of the church elders. Someone at the back lets out a low whistle. Chief Adekunle shifts in his seat, his face tightening as whispers ripple around him. His daughter, the bride-to-be, stands frozen, clutching her purse like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

The photographers, sensing blood, are still clicking.

My mother’s face is a mask,stiff, unblinking but the slight tremor in her hand gives her away. My father looks like someone just poured boiling water down his back; his jaw clenches so tightly you can see the muscle jump.

From somewhere in the crowd, an older woman mutters just loud enough for others to hear: “Ehn-ehn… so it’s true what people have been saying.” Another voice follows: “I always wondered what happened to those other children.”

Phones come out. People are already replaying the video, showing it to those who missed the first part. Every replay spreads the shame wider. A man in Agbada near the entrance leans toward his wife and says,

“This is a disgrace. In public? In front of Chief?” She nods, eyes still glued to the LED screen that now just shows the Smith family crest — an emblem that suddenly feels hollow.

Chief Adekunle clears his throat, stands, and without a word, walks out. His entourage follows, leaving a trail of murmurs behind them. The MC tries to salvage the moment, stammering something about a “technical difficulty,” but no one’s listening. Everyone’s talking now, dissecting Kay’s words, debating the truth, trading knowing looks. And right there, in the middle of it all, my parents just stand still — drowning in the very thing they’ve feared their entire lives: public disgrace.

By the time the video ended, Kay was already in another city, boarding a flight under a fake identity he’d been building for months. He’d been working odd jobs and freelancing online to get the money. His passport was real, but the name was slightly altered — enough to buy him time before anyone caught on. He didn’t just run. He burned their empire in front of the very people they lived to impress and made sure they could never rebuild it without questions. After the video, I grabbed Tay for us to leave the venue quickly before all eyes turned to us as well, but he refused to leave and I had to leave the venue alone. I always knew Tay was the mole amongst us. I knew he was always the one acting like our parents’ right hand. I guess to be on their good side. But that came crashing down on him soon.

Back at home, I went straight into my room because I know that now that Kay has publicly humiliated them, I was the next in line and I had been preparing right from when Happiness broke out of her freedom because I knew how they operated. I knew they would focus on the star child in one moment and when that one breaks free, they will move on to the next. I worked secretly whenever I went to school so I have saved enough to get out of his shithole. Happiness and Zaid also helped me by giving me 500 thousand naira each to get out of there. We all later knew Tay was the mole and he wouldn’t leave anyways so no one decided to help him realise or try to convince him, not even me the thoughtful one. So, i got into my room and packed my bags that i have been packing for some weeks now. I have been packing to the apartment I rented far away from my parents ever since they announced Kay’s wedding. Not knowing he also had some tricks up his sleeve, I am gladly happy for all my siblings for real. I left behind their phone which they bought for me because I didn't want them to track me down. I left behind the sim as well as I've gotten a new phone and a new sim. I left behind a letter too, It wasn’t long or poetic — just the truth. I wrote that I was grateful for the life they gave me, but not for the cage they kept me in. That I knew my worth didn’t depend on the Smith name. That I would rather be nameless and free than respected and controlled. I didn’t write where I was going. I didn’t give a number to call. I just ended it with: “Don’t come looking. You’ve lost another one.”

I placed it on my neatly made bed, zipped my last bag, and walked out without looking back. The compound was quiet, everyone still scattered from the drama at Kay’s ceremony. My footsteps felt louder than usual as I walked to the gate, my heart thumping with both fear and relief. Once outside, I didn’t stop. I got into the uber I booked, told the driver to go straight to the apartment, and watched my parents’ house grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

For the first time in years, the air felt light.