Escaped on my wedding day

The compound was alive. Music spilled from every corner, loud enough to make the ground vibrate beneath Doris's feet. The talking drums answered the high-pitched voices of the women, while the smell of smoky jollof rice, peppered goat meat, and fried plantains floated through the afternoon air. Women dressed in expensive wrappers and glittering gele moved gracefully between rows of plastic chairs, balancing trays piled high with food. Elderly men in richly embroidered native attire sat beneath canopies, arguing over politics and tradition with cups of palm wine in their hands. Children darted through the crowd, laughing as they chased one another between tables, completely unaware of the significance of the day. To everyone outside, it looked like a celebration, but to Doris... It looked like the day her life would end. She sat on the edge of the narrow bed in the small back room, barely able to breathe beneath the layers of heavy traditional fabric wrapped tightly around her body. Her mother had spent three weeks choosing every piece of the outfit, insisting that today had to be perfect. The coral beads resting around Doris's neck felt less like jewelry and more like chains. Every breath reminded her they were there. Beyond the thin mud wall, her mother's voice floated inside. "My in-laws, you are welcome! Thank you for honoring us..." Laughter followed. Doris shut her eyes and each word twisted deeper into her chest. Her mother was thanking the very man who was about to steal her future. The groom was old enough to be her father. His back had begun to stoop with age. Wrinkles folded around his eyes whenever he smiled, and the gray in his beard had long defeated the black. Only one thing about him, he still looked young, his money. That was all her mother had seen the day he arrived with gifts and promises. Not once had anyone asked Doris what she wanted. The decision had already been made. She had simply been informed. Slowly, she stood and walked toward the window. Lifting the curtain just enough, she looked outside. The groom sat proudly beneath the decorated canopy, laughing loudly as though he had won a prize. His relatives surrounded him, praising every joke, fanning his ego as eagerly as the women beside them fanned away the afternoon heat. Her stomach twisted. She let the curtain fall. Behind the bedroom door rested the small traveling bag she had packed two nights earlier while her mother slept. Inside were only the essentials. Two changes of clothes. The little money she had managed to save in secret. A notebook filled with fashion sketches she had drawn over the years when hope became easier than reality and a folded piece of paper containing Temi's address in Lagos. She had hidden it inside her bra. Nobody in this house would ever think of searching there. She wasn't running blindly but had a destination. All she needed now was the courage to leave. The bedroom door creaked open. Bisi slipped inside before quietly shutting it behind her. At fourteen, she already carried too much sadness for someone her age. She had their mother's sharp eyes but their late father's stubborn spirit. Her gaze moved from Doris to the travel bag, then back again. Understanding settled across her face before either of them spoke. "What are you doing?" she whispered. "I'm leaving." Bisi stared at her. "Now?" Her voice trembled. "Doris... the compound is full of people." "I know." "They'll catch you." "They will..." Doris managed a weak smile. "... that's if I wait any longer." Bisi hurried forward and grabbed her wrist. "What about me?" The question was barely louder than a breath. "What do I do here... alone?" The words sliced straight through Doris's heart. She cupped her little sister's face. Her hands were shaking. "I'm coming back for you." "I do. Doris—" "I promise." The word escaped before she could stop it. "If I stay today..." She swallowed. "...they'll marry me to him before sunset." Her voice cracked. "And after today, I'll never belong to myself again." Bisi's eyes shimmered with tears. She nodded, though neither of them truly believed promises made on days like this. "Be brave for me." Another nod. A tear escaped down Bisi's cheek. She wiped it away almost immediately. Girls raised in houses like theirs learned very early that crying solved nothing. Doris leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then she picked up the bag. Without another word, she climbed onto the windowsill. Outside, the music swallowed the soft click of the window latch. She lowered herself carefully before dropping onto the soft earth below. For one terrifying second. She froze. No one had seen her. She tightened her grip on the bag. Then she ran. She had barely reached the back fence when voices erupted behind her. "She's gone!" The first man said. "The bride!" The second man screamed. "Catch her!" The first man screamed. Her blood turned cold, footsteps thundered across the compound. Heavy, fast. Getting closer. Doris didn't look back. She ran as though every step carried the rest of her life. Branches clawed at her clothes, loose stones bit into her feet. The coral beads snapped from around her neck, scattering across the dusty ground like drops of fresh blood. She didn't stop to pick them up. She left everyone behind. The taxi waited exactly where she had arranged. Her elderly neighbor's son stood beside it pretending not to notice the panic on her face. Without asking a single question, he grabbed her bag and threw it into the back seat. Doris climbed in after. "Please..." Her chest rose and fell violently. "...drive." The taxi sped away just as voices echoed from the road behind them. Only then did she allow herself to breathe. Her hands trembled as she struggled out of the wedding attire in the back seat. Layer after layer disappeared until she finally pulled on a pair of plain black trousers and a loose blouse. By the time they reached the motor park... The bride was gone. She looked like every other young woman traveling to Lagos in search of a better life. No one gave her a second glance. The journey passed without sleep. She watched villages disappear behind the bus windows. Red earth slowly became paved highways. Small roadside shops gave way to endless buildings. Billboards rose into the skyline. Traffic thickened. Lagos. The city she had imagined for years. The city where dreams were born or buried. As evening painted the sky in deep shades of orange and purple, the bus finally rolled into the city. Doris climbed down carrying everything she owned. After asking for directions twice, she stopped in front of a faded blue door squeezed between two aging buildings. The air smelled of roasted suya, diesel fumes, and the endless growl of generators. She knocked and a few seconds later, the door opened. Temi stood there, she looked at Doris, at the worn travel bag. At the exhaustion written across her face, she asked no questions, she simply stepped forward and wrapped Doris in a tight embrace. For the first time since climbing through that window… Doris allowed herself to feel the weight of everything she had left behind. When they finally pulled apart, she wiped the tears from her face. Her eyes were different now. She had escaped, but freedom had only just begun demanding its price. Hundreds of miles away, in the village she had fled… Bisi remained trapped inside that house, still counting the days until her big sister returned. Neither of them knew that the promise Doris had made that afternoon would become the most expensive promise of her life.