Proposal ain't the actual marriage. I am thinking she would accept the sudden proposal, but find sense with subsequent events...

This is getting interesting...... Preye wetin dey occur.. hope your heart is strong enough for the breakfast you're about to chop. Thanks Rosemary for the update. You're doing well🙏

Rosemary33, you did well, but this doesn't compensate for the long wait. I was expecting a jara episode, but have refreshed in vain since the last...

Oya, tell us whether or not Ifenkili accepted the proposal...

Thank you Rosemary33 for this interesting episode. This preye is just setting Ife up for premium heartbreak. Flasy things always gets the girls.

Preye should receive sense jare....... Team oghene👍👍. Thanks Rosemary. Am enjoying every bit of the story.

Fifteen
Oghene


"He raped me!"

My emotional pain included the feeling that I had lost all capacity to be strong and get a hold of myself. The agony I was going through was excruciating and looked as if it would never end. Suddenly, I felt beaten down, agitation, emptiness, and incoherence. 'Snap out of it,' sounded like a demand to high jump ten feet.

“I am telling the truth. He tore my clothes and raped me!”

I had woken up this morning with an odd feeling that something would go wrong. Today no go level. I’d done a mental check and searched my dreams from last night for a hint. When I couldn’t find anything, I kabashed and left for work, but nothing seemed to cheer me up. The bright blue sky made me sad. So did the little talks at the workshop, the phone calls, and the food. I felt uneasy. My heart swelled with the tears my eyes couldn’t shed as I went through my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticking off the to-do list: service cars, send text messages, return calls, pay bills. But the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest, eating me up.

I couldn’t count how many times Shukudi asked if I was alright, and I’d replied that I was fine. I seriously wanted to be fine. Instead, I was consumed by an undefined fear, like something terrible was closing in on me. Initially, I blamed it on Ifenkili’s rejection. It angered me that a mere rejection could send me into such a state of disturbance, especially when I’d prayed and asked God to help me forget about her.

But as the day went on and this feeling of impending trouble took over every part of me, I knew it wasn’t just about Ifenkili. This dread woke me up, went to work with me, and returned home with me. As I moved around the house like a man stranded in water, getting ready for my meeting with Reverend Osondu, a persistent note of feverishness came over me. I’d called Maleh and my siblings to find out if kasala burst for house and was told that ground level for their side.

When I was ushered into the Reverend’s sitting room, where four men from the church council, the Reverend himself, and his wife were waiting, their faces etched with a seriousness I couldn’t understand, and Sarima, her eyes red and puffy from crying, my heart began to race faster.

“It’s him. He raped me!”

I stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, looking at her in confusion. Her words echoed in my head like a death knell, and the expression of fear and loathing on her face hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Did you do it?” the reverend asked.

Before I could shake off my stunned state to reply, his wife interrupted.

“Daddy, why would you ask if he did it? What do you expect him to say? Of course, he’ll deny it. We are not going to honor him with that privilege,” she spat, standing up to address me. “Oghene, you are evil! A wolf in sheep’s clothing. God!”

Soon everyone was talking at once, fingers wagging at me, faces contorted with anger. Sarima sobbed louder and louder, clutching her hands to her chest as if the mere memory was causing her physical pain.

But I didn’t do it. I dey smoke kpakpa to try that kain thing?

My mind raced, struggling to process what was happening. "How... How nau?" I wanted to scream, "I no do am! I no fit do dat kain tin!" But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I felt like I was drowning, the room closing in on me, the walls pulsating with my increased heartbeat. I was rapidly sliding into a storm of black panic and half-demented malfunction that started almost unnoticed, like a careful housekeeper locking up a rambling apartment, noiselessly going about and turning off, one by one, my mind’s thousand small accesses to thinking.

“Please... please. All of you. Let’s take it easy,” the reverend said. He was the only calm person among them, but in his eyes, I saw the same thing I saw in the others: disappointment, disbelief, a verdict already passed. “Tell us what happened, Brother Oghene.”

My mouth went dry, my pulse thundering in my ears. “I-I don’t... I didn’t touch her,” I managed to say, looking at the reverend and his wife, seeking some sign of understanding. But their faces were stern, their eyes filled with condemnation.

"I no lash this babe na," I found my voice and said. My use of a vulgar word must have worsened the situation because the reverend’s wife muttered the name of the Lord, and the others narrowed their disapproving glares at me. "I no do am. Sarima, na watin dey work you. I didn’t touch you nau. Tell them. Tell them how you came to my house that night and what happened!"

Sarima's sobs grew louder and more insistent, and every tear that fell felt like acid on my skin. I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms, trying to anchor myself to reality. But the reality was a nightmare, a dark storm of disbelief and horror.

"I swear I no touch her," I croaked as my voice failed me again.

With a tap on her lap, the reverend calmed his wife, who had started raining curses on me. Then he stood up, and moved forward, his eyes boring into mine. "Did you take her into your house?” he asked.

“Yes. She called me that night. She said she was stranded—”

“You liar!” Sarima shouted. “You were the one who invited me. You took my number when we met in the market, and you called me. I told you it was late but you said it was important. I trusted you—" She was speaking too fast, words tumbling out. "I came because you said you were depressed and needed someone to talk to. You deceived me. You raped me!"

As she spoke, something sharp struck my heart. It was as if Sarima’s accusation was uncovering something I’d put a lid on and had left unattended. Down there, among the motionless dark figures, lurked sleeping things—nameless, shapeless; things that could only be felt when they stir. One of the long-lost terrors of childhood returned to me, Eserovwe’s papa’s accusation that disgraced me. Everything became unreal, even the evidence of my own senses became intangible.

As Sarima dissolved into tears again, wailing uncontrollably, my fierce emotion became like an unwanted rope, pulling my past trauma back to the surface.

I wanted to speak, but the reverend’s wife waved a dismissive hand in irritation, cutting me off with a look of pure venom. "I vote that he be dismissed from the church," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. “Before anything, he must be dismissed first.”

“That is not punishment enough. What if he changes church or relocates to another city?” one of the church council members said. “I think we have to publicly shame him.”

“No... no,” the reverend began to object but was interrupted by the council member who had suggested public shaming.

“My Rector, sir. I insist we announce his dismissal in church. We must state the reason for this so that members would know that he is such a beast!”

“I still say we keep this quiet for now until we get to the bottom of it,” the reverend said. “While trying to do the right thing, we must be careful not to cause damage to the church’s reputation—”

They deliberated as if I wasn’t there with them. I wasn’t actually, even though my eyes were darting between faces, my legs light on the ground, it almost gave way.

"I didn’t do it," I said in my mind. "I no touch her"

Sarima’s wails intensified, and she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. And I felt tears prick my own eyes, not of guilt, but of despair. "Why is she doing this? " I thought desperately. "Watin she wan gain?" Then I began to feel a surge of anger. Bellowing, howling anger that I first felt at the soles of my feet like an increasing body of water. It rapidly consumed every part of me. I marched toward Sarima and wrenched her to her feet...

...
She screamed and struggled to free herself from my grip. The reverend’s wife sprang to her feet immediately and grabbed my arm. "What...you want to beat a woman?” she shouted, trying to free Sarima. “You are a fool. An idiot!”

The others swung to action, grabbing my arms, and my waist. Slapping my back. They succeeded in pulling me away and took Sarima to a safe distance.

“So you don’t only rape women, you beat them too?” My reverend blurted, giving me the most hateful look I’d seen.

"I..." My breath comes in a hiccup. "I didn't—" I wasn’t going to lay my hands on her. I was only going to make her look me in the eyes and blow that Fabu...that lie again.

"You are worse than I thought.” My reverend murmured with disgust.

“Pathetic rapist," his wife added.

Rapist. Something within me snapped at that word. It was the same thing Eserovwe’s papa called me, a stigma that traumatized me for a long time. Heat raced through my body, driving in the urge to smack someone so hard that my knuckles would burn with the impact while I keep repeating the words, ‘I am not a rapist,’ over and over until they get it.

“I am not a rapist,” I gritted, staring my reverend hard on the face, breathing hard.

He stared back. “If you are not, why then did you invite a young woman to your house in the night?”

"Shut up," I said so harshly to him, yanked my arm from his grasp, and turned to leave. Then I cast one last, desperate glance back. My eyes met Sarima’s for a fleeting moment. For a brief second, I thought I saw a flicker of guilt in her tear-streaked eyes. She looked away immediately and I walked out of the room.

‘It’s happening again,’ I thought, slamming the door behind me and racing down the stairs. Outside, cool air hit my face, mingled with the pain that was clawing the whole of me. I lowered my head and walked fast out of the church’s premises and into the night. I didn’t want to go home. I’d scream and break things if I found myself alone. So, I kept walking, oblivion of the children still playing on the street, of couples holding hands and smiling up at each other, and of women coming back from the evening market. My soul was becoming so cold with hatred for everything. I was sure it despised the moon right now. I cringed at the sight of the young man in a white cassock strolling down the other side of the road—I knew him, he was one of our priests. My stomach coiled at the laughter of the two ladies walking out from Ekere Street, I felt like they were laughing at me, so I hastened my step to walk past them.

Then I heard a very familiar voice

“Bro Oghene?”

It was Ife. Her voice temporarily brought me back from the dark like a tether that dragged me to some sort of sanity. I stopped but didn’t turn or retract my steps to meet her. I heard murmurs, like deliberation between her and the lady she was with. Then she approached me.

“Oghene—I didn’t think...what are you doing here?”

She touched my shoulder and I flinched. Did I hate that too—the touch? It made me want to turn around into her embrace. And in that position, she would understand my pain and loss without asking me to explain. She would only wrap me in her arms, hold me, silently stroke my back, and let me know that she was there with me.

I finally turned. “I came to see Rector,” I said with composure. “You, what are you still doing outside?”

She gave me a funny look. “It’s only 8 p.m. I followed my friend home and she’s seeing me to my...car.”

Something about the pause before she mentioned ‘car’ struck a nerve. I ignored it and shrugged. “Your friend seemed impatient,” I said.

She glanced back at the lady who had her hands akimbo, and her stare trained on us, and waved. That was when I saw it. The ring on her finger. It was huge and shiny. I didn’t know anything about precious stones but that one seemed very expensive.

She caught me staring at it and brought her hand down immediately, almost hiding it.

“I...Oghene I got engaged today.”

The only kind of shock worse than the totally unexpected was the expected for which one hadn’t prepared for. Her news didn’t only shock me. It hurt me like a stab in an open wound. She was looking at me so closely, probably searching for any sign of crack.

“Oghene I—”

“I’m happy for you,” I interrupted, forcing a smile.

She held my gaze for a moment, then returned the smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Your ring is beautiful.”

Her smile grew.

“I guess he is good to you.”

She laughed now. “He is okay,” she said with a satisfying nod.

I understood when women like Ifenkili addressed a man, with such satisfaction on their faces, as being okay. It meant the guy was more than everything she’d wanted. A total package. Maybe I was wrong about this man she got engaged to. He might not be as bad as my intuitions made me believe. And she seemed to be happy.

Her friend shouted her name, “Come make you begin go nau,” she said with irritation. “You know you have a new car. Make bad boys no collect am abeg.”

She’d got a new car. Another thing she didn’t want me to know, perhaps. So I suppressed the urge to ask her when she got it or if it was part of the engagement package. “Your friend dey vex,” I said. “And she is right. You should get home before it gets very late. Port Harcourt is not secured at night for a young girl like you.”

She nodded. Waved me goodnight, a gesture that I interpreted as a goodbye.

“I’ll see you,” she said.

I don’t think so, Ife. I don’t think so.

Thanks for the update madam

If I break my phone today, you all should hold the author responsible.

TBH, fasle accusation is something that triggers my anger...and that, to the highest threshold. But the satisfaction I get when the truth reveals itself is the most soothing. Hopefully, Oghene comes out of this web.

Weldone Madam Rosemary

Aunty Rosemary33, I no read again o<
which kind double gbas-gbos you dash Oghene for a day, kaiii 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

mostob:
If I break my phone today, you all should hold the author responsible.

TBH, fasle accusation is something that triggers my anger...and that, to the highest threshold. But the satisfaction I get when the truth reveals itself is the most soothing. Hopefully, Oghene comes out of this web.

Weldone Madam Rosemary

Wait ooo, baba you dey here too 😁😁😁😁

Nothing pain person pass false accusation. Wetin Samira go gain for this kain thing chai I dey pity brother oghene o. Coupled with Ifenkili's engagement. Thank you very much Aunty Rosy for the update

Ah!

Aunty Rosemary why you make bro Oghene suffer laidis??

I don dey almost cry for the guy.

Oghene just hang in there, pele.
You will be vindicated at the end.

Thanks for the update ma'am Op!
More ink to your pen!

mostob:
If I break my phone today, you all should hold the author responsible.

TBH, fasle accusation is something that triggers my anger...and that, to the highest threshold. But the satisfaction I get when the truth reveals itself is the most soothing. Hopefully, Oghene comes out of this web.

Weldone Madam Rosemary

No break your phone o

do4luv14:
Aunty Rosemary33, I no read again o<

which kind double gbas-gbos you dash Oghene for a day, kaiii 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Oya, no vex

Nwiboko26:
Nothing pain person pass false accusation. Wetin Samira go gain for this kain thing chai I dey pity brother oghene o. Coupled with Ifenkili's engagement. Thank you very much Aunty Rosy for the update

Rosemary33:

Bros come change SARIMA to SAMIRA 😁😁

do4luv14:



Wait ooo, baba you dey here too

I dey here o... Tomorrow like this, I dey go meet Daddy Falana. Justice for Oghene. We no go gree o

This reverend's wife should be calming down now...kilode....Abi she dey crush on bro oghene ni😀....

Women like the reverend's wife do more harm than good to the church. Many steadfast brothers and sisters have become shild of the world because of such holier than thous who are quickly judgemental and lack self-control...

mostob:
I dey here o... Tomorrow like this, I dey go meet Daddy Falana. Justice for Oghene. We no go gree o

Unfortunately the situation of bro Oghene as per the accusation of Sarima, and the reaction of the Rev wife are the reality of everyday life, where the woman had more pity than the man, even if she was/is living,

Unfortunately again, that's where Oghene finds himself, and for a second time too

mostob
If I break my phone today, you all should hold the author responsible.

TBH, fasle accusation is something that triggers my anger...and that, to the highest threshold. But the satisfaction I get when the truth reveals itself is the most soothing. Hopefully, Oghene comes out of this web.

Weldone Madam Rosemary

No be only bro. This false accusation is something else. I believe rapist and false rape accusers both deserve death penalty.

I actually feel oghene's pain. I hope he finds the courage to leave that area for good.

What Oghene is passing through is really painful, I pray the next update comes with the truth being revealed

do4luv14:




Unfortunately the situation of bro Oghene as per the accusation of Sarima, and the reaction of the Rev wife are the reality of everyday life, where the woman had more pity than the man, even if she was/is living,

Unfortunately again, that's where Oghene finds himself, and for a second time too

Well, the Reverend should have done better. I mean you have known Oghene for years and going by his dutifulness. Even the Bible said something about us not to be too quick to judge. How the Reverend's wife reacted is expected because she is also a woman.

IkeIgboNiile:
mostob
If I break my phone today, you all should hold the author responsible.

TBH, fasle accusation is something that triggers my anger...and that, to the highest threshold. But the satisfaction I get when the truth reveals itself is the most soothing. Hopefully, Oghene comes out of this web.

Weldone Madam Rosemary

No be only bro. This false accusation is something else. I believe rapist and false rape accusers both deserve death penalty.

I actually feel oghene's pain. I hope he finds the courage to leave that area for good.

Yea. I kinda agree except the death penalty part. A heavy compensation and imprisonment should do. Bro... Please just click the 'quote' button next time so we can read your submission perfectly

False accusations hurts like hell... Shey Na by force to knack... Because person reject you.... You come dey accuse am of rape. Make I catch that Sarima lady first😡😡😡😡

False accusation needs to have a death penalty attached to it because the victim either losses his life or his reputation forever. He'll always be known as a rapist forever.

hanty Rosie, weytin dey super na, today make it 4 days ooo, @ Rosemary33

Rosemary how far now....we are hungry ooo 😀

Sixteen
Ifenkili

“That’s him?”

“Hmm.”

“He’s fine o.”

And he was walking away without looking back. Bouncing along as if we were just commuters who had boarded the same bus, shared a few smiles only to part at the bus stop. I looked over my shoulder, hoping to catch him standing a distance away, staring at me. I only caught a fading image of him jogging—almost running down the road.

I wanted to think that he was hurt by the knowledge of me getting engaged, that the realization that I would never be his no matter what he felt for me...I felt for him... would drive a stick into his heart and as he watched me leave, even the shreds of his heart would be shriveled into dust and blew away. But I didn’t think he felt a thing. Not sadness. Not lost. He was like a man drained of emotion.

When he said he was happy for me, I wanted to see the lie in his words, but he disappointed me with that smile that was neither of genuine happiness nor hidden sadness. Had he given me a frown or called me a fool who wouldn’t know a good man even if he fell from the sky, I would have been glad.

But he did none of those. Rather, he denied me from seeing how much I meant to him, poured upon me that nasty feeling of grief, and made me want to crawl into a hole and cry myself to sleep. Can one grieve the loss of something that had only begun to flicker with the promise of existence?

My first thought, when I didn’t notice any shift in his countenance as he saw my ring, was that it wasn’t fair that he still looked so peaceful and in control when I was shaking like I’d woken up in the middle of an ocean. The second was that he smiled when I told him of my engagement. It made me feel like I never took any part of him which he was going to miss. And he never had any part of me he’d hidden in the store of his heart, which he would fish out like a jewel thief when no one was watching.

I wished I could be as strong as he was, so that I wouldn’t spend night after night, at least for months to come, thinking about him, mourning the relationship that never was. And when my ache for him dulled, I would only have the distant memory of him to hold on while I built a life with another man. He would not go away from me completely. I knew that now because, somehow, within this short time, he had made his way into every cell, had taken over every thought, and had been responsible for the best and worst feelings I've ever had.

And I had fallen in love with him. I didn’t know the depth of it until today—tonight, while looking at him and thinking; “Ifenkili, what is it that you want and why aren't you fighting for it?” Truly, love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

But this was for my good. This truth, this separation. For what was love without marital and financial security? Oghene hadn’t offered me marriage but a relationship that might or might not lead to marriage. We would just be testing the waters until he was ready to settle down and we were both convinced that both of us would want to do life together.

What if we never come to that conclusion?

One thing was certain though, I loved Oghene. I didn't know if this would change as I do life with Preye. But now, this moment, No one, not even the doubting part of me, could make me feel bad for admitting this to myself, and this conviction that I could have that great love that I've read about in novels with Oghene.

Only that a girl had to do what a girl had to do to secure a future for herself and her local government. Even Auntie Okwuchukwu, my mother’s younger sister said this to me the last time I spoke with her. “A girl must consider financial security among other things when choosing a man.” It was her regret, not choosing a wealthy man over her current husband. “Love a poor man all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it is wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you want a fairy tale love.”

...So, yes. I did the right thing choosing Preye. I might not have the heart-melting, stomach-jumbling, body-floating kind of feelings for him. But he was a good man who had vowed to give me much more than I’d ever imagined. That was his definition of love, spending money on me, buying me things, making sure I had an easy life. With him, I could even quit my job and venture into something else.

“Am I being unreasonable?” I asked Ale who held the car door for me to settle in before closing it. The stupid, materialistic girl had been treating me like her personal Lord and savior since that evening. According to her, she was securing her place as my bride’s maid and personal make-up artist and hair stylist, and partner in chopping life after the wedding.

“Unreasonable, how?” she asked, narrowing her gaze at me in confusion.

Of course, she didn’t understand.

“Choosing Preye over—”

“Oh,” she got it now. “Girlfriend, what are you talking about? Unreasonable, how? You got what a lot of women seek. Babes go to prayer houses, burn candles, and fast for forty days and nights to get a man like Preye, and you are here asking me if you are unreasonable because of one low-budget Romeo that you are not even sure when he would make it in life and if he would even look your side if he makes it.” She hissed and rolled her eyes. “Abeg no spoil my night joor.”

Regardless of my torn feelings, I managed to give off laughter.

“Girl, no dey vex me o.” Ale gave my cheek a mild slap. “You don't know how much I envy you right now. See your moto now. How many of your mates dey drive this kain moto? If you carry this one land for your bank, them go make you the manager sharp-sharp.”

I laughed some more, this time harder. “Ale you are a fool. Eziokwu m, enwero ife eji gi eme.”

That was a relief. The jokes, the laughter. For a moment, I felt lighthearted.

“But I am not lying na. You manager dey drive this kain moto? Girl, you’ll be worshipped in your office tomorrow if you carry this car to work. Asin...everybody go stand salute you—” She stomped her feet and gave me a military salute. “Governor general among the nations...”

Toppling in laughter, I reached for her stomach and punched her. “Stop, please—”

She dodged my second punch, laughing. “But seriously, babe. The sisterhood is proud of you for bagging this price. You don’t know how lucky you are. Abegi come make you dey go before night close and your man go arrest me if anything happens to you.”

We said goodnight and I headed home.

Was I as fortunate as Ale claimed? I now had a new car, a costly ring adorning my finger, and a tangible hope of becoming Mrs. Somebody very soon. Everything seemed to be falling into place faster than I could have imagined.

Tomorrow, I would be traveling to Elele with Preye to meet his family. Preye was confident his people would love me.

“You have nothing to fear,” he assured me. “My parents are kind. You, on the other hand, are lovely and humble. My family will adore you.”

Before he left, we discussed meeting my family and the kind of wedding I envisioned. I wanted a grand celebration, the kind that would make my enemies drink their tears. Preye was on board with that. He loved what I loved and wanted to do everything to make me happy, even offering me a trip to Dubai. Dubai! I had never crossed the Nigerian border, not even to enter Cotonou. The farthest I’d ever traveled to was Abuja, courtesy of my bank.

Maybe accepting this proposal wasn't such a bad idea after all. Before Preye left, I handed him my international passport. He would need it to start processing my visa. We laughed at my picture in the document because it was unflattering. It didn't look like me at all, even on my worst days. I remembered my mother asking if I had escaped from a psychiatric ward when she saw the photo.

“You're still beautiful to me,” Preye said, pocketing the document.

Later, we spoke about the genotype test. Ale had brought it up. It shocked me that she would mention it, considering that she knew how much I hated the topic. I despised the existence of genotype checks; they seemed like a cruel flaw in creation. They had taken so many potential suitors from me because I was AS.

But Preye reassured me by confessing he was AA, so I had nothing to worry about.

As I nosed up at my gate, honked, and waited for the gateman to roll the iron sheet open, I thought to myself; Something good could come out of this. What was I even saying? I chose Preye because I knew what I wanted. Marriage, comfort, financial security. And Preye wasn’t dumb when it came to romance. I was the one holding back, closing my emotions towards him because I wouldn’t want to have sex with him. I wanted the ring and his name first. We’d kissed on a few occasions, and I’d allowed him to touch my breasts, squeezing them as if he was trying to extract the last drop of juice from a dry orange. I always cut those moments short because they reminded me of unpleasant adventures than romance, which was a good thing in a way. I wouldn’t want to have sex with him yet.

I was a Jesus babe, and in team ‘no sex before marriage.’

A Jesus' babe? Such a laughable thing to call myself this moment that I wasn’t sure of my salvation anymore. I’d gone from lowering God’s standards because I didn’t want to offend Preye into losing interest in me, to desiring Oghene unhealthy times in two days like an animal who cared nothing about being called a sinner. I guessed the title of a shameless hypocrite would suit me better. Because my emotions had a way of shrinking or completely disappearing whenever Preye touched me in a certain way, making it impossible for me to allow him to cross a certain limit, just kissing and touching. But with Oghene, it would gush like a broken dam. So unhinged. Only the thought of him made me desire to be in his room, on his bed, under him, him inside me while I stared into his eyes. I didn't know if that was love or just need, but I knew I had dwelt on this desire to know him in a much more intimate way than I’d wanted that with Preye. I needed what I'd never known, and I needed it from him. It might destroy everything or build something. I really didn't know. I just knew…

Why was I even thinking about him when I should be planning my trip to Elele with my husband-to-be?