Back to the love of my life, back to Marley.
Back to the life I actually wanted.
The car finally pulled up, and as I slid into the back seat, I whispered the words I’d been afraid to say out loud.
“I’m coming back to you, my love.”
The gate creaked as I pushed it open, my hands still shaking from adrenaline and the weight of what I had just done.
I barely made it up the front steps when my mother appeared in the doorway, her wrapper hastily tied and confusion written across her face.
“KC? What are you doing home so early? I thought you and my in-laws would still be celebrating.” She looked past me toward the empty driveway, searching. “Where is he?”
The words stuck in my throat for a moment.
“Mummy, the wedding is off.”
Her face went blank, like she was trying to process what I had just said.
“What did you say?”
“I called off the wedding.” My voice was steadier this time, though my heart hammered against my ribs.
She stared at me, her mouth slightly open, before following me into the house. I could hear voices from the sitting room. My aunties were here, probably discussing bride price details or wedding preparations.
The bitter irony wasn’t lost on me.
I headed straight for my bedroom, my mother’s confused questions trailing behind me. The only thing in my head was that I needed to pack quickly, before anyone could stop me or talk me out of what I knew I had to do.
My hands moved on autopilot, pulling clothes from hangers and shoving them into my travel bag.
Then my fingers brushed against something hanging at the back of my closet.
It was Marley’s jacket.
The one she had lent me that night months ago. The one I’d never gotten around to returning.
Because I never wanted to return it.
I pulled it out and held it to my face, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume mixed with cigarettes and a scent so uniquely hers.
The tears came suddenly, months of suppressed emotion finally breaking free. I buried my face deeper into the fabric, my body shaking with sobs I’d held back for too long.
My bedroom door burst open without a knock.
“Kelechi, what do you think you’re doing?” My mother stood in the doorway, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “You cannot just start packing your things. Well, nsogbu adiro?*. Your father is on his way home, and you will sit and explain yourself properly.”
I sank onto my bed, still clutching Marley’s jacket like a lifeline, and covered my face with my free hand.
The weight of everything pressed down on me like a boulder.
The years of pretending to be perfect.
The engagement I never wanted.
The life I’d been trying to force myself to accept.
I didn’t know how long I remained in that position before I heard my father’s heavy footsteps thundering down the hallway. His voice boomed before he even reached my room.
