Preordained #ProjectNigeria

41- Halfway

Nwanyieze's POV~

I'm telling him tonight.

The mere thought of it makes my stomach churn and my eyes water. I'm tempted to just call things off with Maduka instead, but I know I can't because that will kill me, and even before I'm done dying, Maduka would relentlessly pursue me until I finally confessed, leading us back to square one.

"You'll ruin the curls," Mama Uju chides me.

I release a lock of my hair and try to find something else to touch. Mama Uju is seated beside me, watching a Bollywood movie that I suspect she has seen before, because she keeps whispering to Adanna what will happen next.

I am too distracted to focus on the movie, because I'm waiting for the taxi Maduka has sent to pick me up, and I'm wondering how the events of tonight will play out. My hands move over the fabric of my dress, a simple, purple A-line dress with lilac silk butterfly sleeves I had made a while ago. I have worn heels, black straps and velvet. I made an attempt with make up; light foundation and a coat of pink lip gloss.

I feel overdressed, especially as I'm going to spill out all my secrets to someone I've fallen in love with.

Fallen in love with, you said.

"You look pretty, Sisi," Adanna compliments me for the third time, raising her head from her mother's belly to look at me.

"Thank you, Ada."

My phone rings; a signal that my taxi has arrived. I get up quickly like a pin has pricked my buttock.

Mama Uju gets up, too, and puts an arm around me. "I know you're anxious, nne. But you have to hide nothing from Maduka. He's been so good to you, he has surprised even me. Whatever happens, it was meant to happen. Life goes on."

"I understand, Mama."

I tell them my goodbyes and leave the flat. The taxi is a sleek black Audi, and the driver actually comes out, crisply greets me, and opens the door for me. I feel eyes on me; the neighbours hanging around the gate are staring. They call out greetings, compliment me, and I smile in return and yell out a few replies.

"Greet your fine bobo for me oh!"

"Buy somtin come back oh!"

"Ah! Omalicha!"

I have a cocktail of neighbours: kind, helpful, nosey, the gossip mongers, those who will knock on your door at midnight asking for matches, those who will drop their children with you at any opportunity so they can run off to have fun, those who will steal your clothes from the public lines. Living with them is bearable; at least there are no armed robbers amongst us.

Everyone in the compound has heard of Maduka by now: the tall, handsome man with the deep voice who visits regularly or sends expensive-looking cars to come and pick me up. The one who sends gifts, the one who Adanna is clearly besotted with. I even heard that a few of them have thrown bets on if Maduka and I will get married or not.

The thought makes me laugh and shake my head in the car. The sky has darkened a bit, but it is still bright. People move in all directions; jumping on and off danfo buses, carrying trayfuls of wares, pushing wheelbarrows, crossing the expressways illegally and avoiding the VIO officers. Sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like I can hear this city's heartbeat.

My love for Lagos is so deep, I don't think I'd want to live elsewhere. This is a place that I had immediately adapted to upon arrival three years ago, holding a small polyethylene bag with my belongings, rubber slippers on my feet, hair cropped short, body bruised, mind scarred forever. I had been eager to leave behind all I'd known. I had wanted a new life, and Lagos had given it to me although it wasn't the best.