<I am mine, before I am anyone else's>

|Jadesola|

Sunday, 15th August

"HOW IS married life treating you, Ola?" Mom asked as she inclined forward to grab two cans of maltina from the pack lying on the table. She pushed one into my hands despite the negative shake of my head. Mothers.

"Simi, do you even need to ask?!" Aunty Sasha butted in, fanning her heavily made-up face with her white hand fan. The numerous bangles on her wrists jangled. "Are you not seeing how my daughter is glowing?! Married life is treating her as it should. Very very well."

Mother and a few others close by, including my grandma, laughed.

Today marked our 20th annual, august meeting for the Anyalewechi family living in diaspora. All relatives, both from my grandfather's side, the Igbos and my grand-mother's, the Yorubas were present. About twenty women were gathered in the hotel's large hall. Most of them, people I hardly knew or ever saw.

"Mummy!" objected Olayinka, a light blush coating her cheeks. Shy now that she was the center of attention, she turned to my mother. "Ma, Jayden has been treating me perfectly well."

"That's good, my dear." Mom smiled, nodding as she cranked open her malt. "I'm very happy to hear that. He needs to take even better care of you now that you're pregnant."

Like every other elderly woman present, my mother was attired in an expensive, golden iro and buba. A red gele tied up her beautiful look and whenever her teeth widened in a broad smile, I was enveloped with the urge to stand, screaming proudly, "That's my gorgeous mother, y'all!"

Olayinka beamed brightly, rubbing her three months old belly. "He is. I always have to beg him to allow me to do some chores in the house."

Again, everyone hooted in laughter and fussed over her once more. Me? I never said a word, choosing to remain silent and ignore her betraying ass.

Situated on the high table, I was sandwiched between my mother and grandma. Opposite, Olayinka and Aunt Sasha flanked them, next was Ada, my best friend and first cousin who had just flown in from Nigeria, then her mother.

Various drinks manned the table and feets away, were other elegantly dressed women in traditional garbs, doing the usual. Gossiping and munching on the snacks being shared.

Grandma leaned forward and tapped Mom on her shoulder. "Simisola, tell the caterers to get the food ready so that we can commence this meeting as everyone eats. O mọ ounje jẹ ki awọn obirin wọnyi gba."

"O dara, iya," Mom replied and stood, clutching her maltina. She adjusted her wrapper before heading into one of the open rooms beyond.

Grandma relaxed, perched on her high pedestal as she bobbed her head to the Yoruba traditional song playing from the speaker. Whenever we had a meeting like this, all our other relatives called her Big Mummy, despite the enmity warring within both tribes.

Since we were stalling, I focused on the lemon I licked.

"Jadesola," Ada's surprised voice called, her round face in full view now that my mom's seat was vacant. "When did you start licking lemons?"

"I don't know. I've been having cravings for them." I chuckled lightly, shrugging. Once I was in the presence of my fellow Nigerians, I tended to lower my guard down, my accent always peeking through as I spoke.

Giggling, she tilted her neck to the side, her bone-straight wig flowing over her bare shoulders. "Okay o. I'm suspecting you shaa, after that your marriage to your white man."

"Shh! Don't say it out loud na!" I frowned, shooting her a glare and changed the topic quickly, "Ehn, madam, you've not gisted me sef. You just came back and you didn't even tell me how Nigeria was? Ah, God, the kind of friends I have."

Ada smiled and flicked a strand of hair shrouding her vision as she said, bringing out her palms in surrender, "Sorry o. Is it not my mother? Once I landed, this woman refused to allow me out of her sight. Omo as for Nigeria," she sighed. "It's fine, same old wahala as usual."

"I thought as much," I replied, dumping my lemon peels and grabbing a water bottle to douse my rising gag reflex. "Did that Pelumi bastard later apologize to his baby mama? And what am I even hearing about Davido?"

"Last man. Dey there na. Gist plenty. . ." And Ada began regaling me with tales of our old classmates, friends and even celebrities in Nigeria. As we spoke, other women's conversation filtered through but we were in our own little world. With my best-friend, there was never a dull moment and now that she was here, I was going to catch up. Not having a real friend to talk to these past few months was wearisome.

We were so deep into our conversation when my ears perked up, hearing Ada's mother announce in an excited tone, "Speaking of marriages. My daughter, Ada, is getting married at the end of this year."

Words of congratulations filled the air as everyone wished her well. Ada smiled warmly, but I knew it was fake, especially when it didn't reach her dark brown eyes.

Once the attention shifted from her, she whispered, glossy lips pressed in a thin, annoyed line, "I don't know why this woman is telling everybody this thing now."

"That's African mothers for you," I snorted, chuckling at her peeved features. "The need to see their daughters married once they hit twenty and announce it to the entire world is engraved in their genes."

She sighed, hissing, "Me, I don't like it o. I want my life to be private. Shaa, let's continue. Where was I?"

Just as I opened my lips to reply, a fresh wave of nausea smacked me hard. Excusing myself, I slapped a hand on my mouth and rushed to the bathroom immediately. Piercing eyes followed me out of the hall.

On reaching the hotel's washroom, I vomited. When the sick feeling passed, I straightened up, flushed the toilet and washed my hands.

As I did so, I glared at my reflection. My new hairdo—goddess braids were tied up in a ponytail, the black strands falling to my waist. Despite the flawless makeup on my face, my eyes were not bright, they lacked life. I narrowed them, vexed at that image. And was it just me or was this purple, ankara gown, similar to Ada's, too tight-fitting? Fuck.

It was baffling, this nausea that went on for too long. I'd complained to Kian but he would only give me crackers and assure me that I was alright. Then, he would kiss me, ensuring I forgot all my troubles.

A tiny smile tugged at my lips at his gentleness and care. Inhaling deeply, I walked back on trembling legs. There was a heaviness in my belly so I placed a hand on my waist for support, trudging inside slowly. The tantalizing aroma of food reached my nostrils, the caterers were here.

Some ladies gawked at me, beady eyes pinned at my form padding down the aisle. I sighed inwardly. All these African aunties.

"It's like she's also pregnant," a dark-skinned woman on the right whispered in a booming tone, staring at my stomach and slow, walking steps.

Pregnant? I grew white, recalling that I was yet to see my period. Jesus, how could I be so dumb? But I ignored her jibe and continued walking, hoping her accusation was false.

"I think so too, Jumoke. See, she's adding on weight sef," another middle-aged lady piped up, raking me down with venomous eyes.

Next to her, a fair woman in a blue blouse and wrapper nodded in agreement. "Asin. Simisola's daughter used to be slim na. Shebi, she was a model before? Ọmọbinrin aibikita has gotten fat."

My cheeks reddened and I halted, anger and disbelief clawing at my chest. Apart from a select few, no one knew I was married.

"She's not even married and yet, she's pregnant?" One of my distant igbo aunts, seated on the left, rolled her shoulders in contempt. "Tufiakwa. All these rich, spoiled kids."

"See the nose ring in her nose sef. O no ya n'ahu, my sister," her seating partner retorted in a heated tone.

"To be honest. I mean, what do you expect when her father was never in the picture?"

They two laughed, an ear-splitting sound that grated on my nerves. While I was dumbfounded at being pregnant, my mind was focused on the chaos that was rippling through these dens of vipers.

Mom, who was directing the caterers around now, froze. She had heard them too. Embarrassed, she looked at me askance, the expression on her creased, facial features, screaming: Are you going to stand there and let these women disgrace me?

In reply, I stiffened my spine, no, I won't. The cat was already out of the bag and over my dead body would I let her be shamed in front of these spiteful women.

A cold voice rang out loud, mine, "I'm married."

Grave silent fell. It was so quiet that even a pin could be heard thudding to the marble floor.

When it dawned on them that I wasn't joking, their condescending tones swiftly changed to compliments. "Congrats. We didn't know o. Nobody told us."

Blah, blah, blah.

A fake smile settled on my lips as I continued walking down, scanning everyone's faces. Mother appeared relieved, my grandma had a big grin on her wrinkled face too. Aunty Sasha and Ada gave me thumbs up while Olayinka's brows were knitted in a tiny grimace.

"Who's the lucky man?"

I paused and circled on my black heels. It was Aunty Jumoke again, a fake-ass smile depicted on her countenance. Like an expired ashawo, she chewed her gum repeatedly, cocking her head to the side as she examined me.

Ignoring that judging glare, I answered, my tone, sickly sweet, "Kian Fields. Haven't you heard about him? He's the popular CEO of the Fields enterprises. One of the biggest multi-billionaire businesses in the US." I curled my lips in a smirk. "My husband is a wealthy man who grants me whatever I wish for."

Bet you didn't expect the billionaire part, bitch!

"Oh he's white, I see." She chomped on that poor gum vigorously, twisting her red lips in disdain. Her voice was faint when she added, "That's nice."

"When did you marry him?" inquired another woman. That fair woman in blue who'd insulted me. There was no doubting the calculations spinning behind her raptor gaze. She thought I had had sex before marriage.

"My daughter got married on July 17. Is that enough answer for you?" Mom cut in before I could speak. She stood beside me now, scowling at Mrs. Blue Gele. Mrs. Blue Gele pursed her thin, ugly lips before she averted her acidic gaze away.

"Ugochi," one of my mom's igbo cousins interjected. "You guys didn't call me for the wedding o. I wonder why?"

God. A fierce headache pulsated within my head, and I exhaled deeply, tired of all this nonsense. Mom noticed, looping my arm into hers, supporting me as she replied to the poke-noser in a sarcastic voice, "It was a private affair, Nneka. Besides, you weren't in the US then. Was it not just recently that your husband managed to fly you here?"

Nneka's jaw dropped open and she brought out her fan to shroud her lower face, humiliated. A faint mumble reached our ears. "Oh."

Frankly, if not for my mom and the pregnancy shock thumping through my veins, I would have blazed hot, firing shots after shots at the old hags. After all, one would think staying abroad would make African mothers swim with the change of tides but no. They were dead-set on tradition.

"So have you done your traditional wedding?" Jumoke piped up again. "This one you guys were hiding–"

But Aunty Sasha was quick to cut in, "Ah, Jumoke, Mrs. Detective. Be calming down, ni. See how you're throwing question after question at her. Yes, she's pregnant, she didn't kill somebody. Haba! Abeg, let her rest jhoor."

I sent her a grateful smile as she waved me to the high table, beaming. "My dear, come and sit down, don't mind your curious aunties."

Mom squeezed my cold fingers, a comforting touch and helped me navigate towards my previous position.

"Yes, sit down," Jumoke cackled and clapped her palms together, a show of defiance. Her loud whisper followed my mother and I, "It's probably her stealing, no-good fiance that got her pregnant and now, she's marrying a white man to save face."

The roar of her friend's laughter had me clenching my fists. Fury flooded my veins and I simmered. Lord knew, I was done holding in my respect. Flinging my mother's arm off, I swerved to meet them but someone else beat me to it.

"That's enough." Grandma stood, wagging a forbidding finger. She was glowering, darting angry glares in their pathetic directions. "I will not have you making fun of my granddaughter and if that is your sole purpose here, you can look to your right. There's the exit."

"Pele o, big Mummy. It was a slip of tongue." Fake apologies rent the air.

Despite the tiny war we'd undergone, my mother was happy. It showed in her excited tone that she was over the moon at the possibility of a grandchild. "Rest, my love. I will get you something to eat." Her hand on the small of my back, Mom helped me down, then left off again when a waitress requested for her attention.

Grandma's expensive perfume wafted to my nostrils as she slanted her body towards mine. Her lips tugged up in a delighted smile and she patted my knee. "Ignore them, omo mi. These meetings give me a headache everytime. I still don't know why your grand-father insists on us having them. But it's well. Smile for me, ifemi. Later, I will bless you and your child. Okay?"

Plastering a grin I didn't feel, I bowed my head in agreement. "Yes, thank you, Grandma."

Her rings flashed as she patted my knees again, one last comforting touch. "Let me start the meeting before these women form another wahala."

Once people began eating, the meeting commenced. But I was a mere ghost, my gaze, vacant. Panic mounted in me, slowly dragging me through the quicksand that was my mind.

July 17-August 15. Nearly a month. More than enough time to get pregnant.

Disbelief had quivering fingers whipping out my phone and I swiped my calendar app open. Right there, it indicated that Kian and I had initially made love on the 23rd of July. And the first time he'd come inside me was on August 2nd. Fuck, if I was really pregnant, how could I conceive in two weeks?

Quickly, I thought further back in time, ransacking my memory, for when last we had been intimate. July 3rd, the day Olayinka wedded. And I recalled how he'd swiped off his cum off my lips and fingered—

"Nne, are you alright? You have been so quiet and you've not touched your food since," Ada asked, a worried glint in her eyes.

"I'm fine, I just need a moment." Despite the open ventilation, fresh air circulating in the room, I felt, confined. "Excuse me, I'll be back shortly."

An anxious look marred her expression but she shook her head. "Alright. Remember, you owe me gist. Being pregnant and keeping it all to yourself. That's not how we do things o, Jade."

That's because I'm hearing the news for the first time.

"Sure, Ada." A wan smile crossed my lips. Hoisting up, I took my purse with me and advanced into the restroom to evaluate myself. My heart pounded furiously, cold sweat beading on my forehead as I browsed the internet.

The first sign of pregnancy is usually missing a period, about 2 weeks after you've conceived. Symptoms include morning sickness, breast tenderness and enlargement, fatigue, e.t.c.

"No, no, no! Fuck, no!" I dumped the phone inside my purse, angry tears filling my eyes. The article explained every weird change going on with my body. No wonder I was so hormonal and needy.

Someone knocked on the door. Swiping off my tears hastily, I unlocked it.

Olayinka.

Great. Another person came to gloat.

I didn't even spare her a glance, not with the emotional turmoil I swam in. Gathering my belongings, I ambled forward to push past her, except her fingers curled around my wrist, holding me back.

"You're annoyed with me," she said, noting the glare painted on my expression.

I remained mute. If looks could kill, she would have long been melted into a slimy puddle.

Olayinka heaved out a tired sigh. "Why?"

"Are you really asking me why, Olayinka?!" Anger increased the tone of my voice and I yanked her hands off violently. "Were you not the person that told my mom I slept with Kian for money. FYI, your big mouth caused a lot of problems for me."

"I'm sorry." Contrition shone in her soft, brown eyes. "I just wanted to stop you from getting attached to him. You know I care for you, Jade."

But I wasn't hearing any of it. Eyeing her, I bit out through gritted teeth, "Keep your care and save it for your baby. Abeg."

I brushed past her, about to twist open the door knob when her next sentence had me freezing.

"I asked the vacuum cleaner who cleaned the room that day and he told me he saw drops of blood on the bed, Jade."

For a brief second, I closed my eyes, a miserable feeling punching me hard in the guts. Those brutal recollections left a bitter taste in my mouth but I conquered the sinister images and pried open my sight.

Angling my neck backwards, I hurled out in a tone that dripped of sarcasm, "I didn't know brides still had the time to snoop around on their wedding day."

Olayinka wasn't bothered by my snarky reply. She continued, "He also said there was semen on the rumpled bed sheets and when he'd first knocked, he had heard a woman screaming in pain."

Fuck. My mocking smile was tight, as I cocked a brow. "Oshey detective. Jumoke, the number two. What do you want me to tell you? That we had sex?"

She looked me straight in the eye, an unwavering stare. "That you were drunk and he took advantage of you. Jade, when he came into that church, you were pissed off with him. It was very much clear to anyone who cared to notice. Tell me, did he hurt you in that room? I can recall you wanting to tell me the things Kian did to you before he butted into our conversation."

Never in my life had I seen myself defending Kian but my voice was extremely defensive as I snapped hotly, "It's none of your business, Olayinka! Kian wasn't—"

"Don't lie to me." Her beautiful face, plump with pregnancy, was grave. "I saw the fear in your eyes as you talked to me then. And you married him, Jade. That man is the very definition of evil. Pure wickedness runs in his veins. Please, Jade. . ." 

Boiling in anger, I shoved a rude finger into her face. "Hold it, Olayinka. Just fucking shut up. All these things you're saying doesn't make sense because I don't know where you're heading to nor do I care. I've lived with Kian for weeks now and he has never treated me harshly. Not even once. If anything, he is very loving and understanding. The kindest man I could have wished for. And you, after all this rubbish you spilled, do you even know who my husband really is?"

As if a bucket of ice-cold water had been splashed on her body, Olayinka gasped, taking a step back. "My God, you love him, don't you? I thought you were joking but you really do."

What was this one talking about? Google must have missed inputting madness as a sign of pregnancy.

Rolling my eyes heavenwards, I inhaled in the dettol laced air swirling in the toilet. "I'm very pissed right now, Ola. If this is how you go about apologizing, biko do better."

"Again I'm sorry." Defeated, her shoulders slumped down and she nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "If he's treating you alright, that's fine. But once he does anything wrong, please run far away and never look back. For the sake of your life and baby's."

Then she cast a pleading look at me, viewed my tummy and then hers. "I hope you forgive me. I realize now that it wasn't in my place to assume. I was just looking out for you."

Without another word, she left.

What was even her problem? Why was she so adamant on keeping Kian and I apart? I mulled over it, disturbed. When no answers came forth, I realized I was going to have to query her. Until then, I glanced down, placed a trembling palm on my stomach. I would have to find out if I was carrying Kian's child or not.

***

The time on the clock signalled 7 pm and Kian was out. He'd left to purchase the ice cream I craved for. That was me lying. I wanted some me time to cross-check my suspicions.

They were right, my relatives. The double lines on the test indicated positive.

I was pregnant.

Naked, I stared at my stomach with wide frightened eyes. My bump wasn't showing yet, but a tiny human was inside me. A child borne of his dark desires. Of his depraved hunger. A rape babe. * (credit for this term, rape babe, to goes to Amber. Yes, I read all the comments, I literally have them engraved in my brain!)

My lips quivered, terror and anger warring within me as I remembered his questions: Have you seen your period? Would you like children? I don't mind having children with you. How he always came inside me lately. God, this man must have suspected but never told me.

Did he think me a naive fool? Obviously, yes.

Hurt, I swallowed hard, breathing fast. My belly churned, rolling in anxiety.

I hated it. I hated this. I hated him. And I detested those faint lines of stretch marks that blemished the skin of my tummy so fucking much.

Stupid moisture pricked my eyes, a scorching burn. While I sounded like a bitch, I didn't want his baby yet. It was another form of commitment, a means of tying myself to him. Yes, Kian was the sweetest but if he didn't understand that my no was a no, how exactly would we move along? How was I to trust him?

My eyes roved across the space I had been living in for weeks. Just like its owner, it had been impersonal and cold until I'd breezed in with the vibrant storm I was. My bags, clothes and other personal items, allowed the large room, a touch of femininity it had been missing.

The door clicked open and the clink of his keys hitting a solid surface streamed into my ears.

His deep voice resonated, a tone that always made my knees go weak but right now, that husky tone did nothing but infuriate me, "Babe, I bought you about ten different flavors of ice-cream. Just in case you get tired of one flavor and wanted a taste of another. I also bought more crackers to stop the nausea after I ran to the clinic. Oh and the nurse said. . ."

Yakkity, yak, yak.

Frame vibrating in fury, I swerved to meet him, waving the test. "Kian. You knew, didn't you?"

A/N: HEYYYY LOVERSSS! So Jadesola finally knows! I'm sorry for those who don't really get the Nigerian slangs written in this chapter BUT I wanted to make it authentic.

Question:

1. What do you think Kian did to Olayinka for her to keep on warning Jade?

Translation.
O mọ ounje jẹ ki awọn obirin wọnyi gba. : You know food makes these women receptive.
O dara, iya: Okay, mother.
Biko: Please.
Ọmọbinrin aibikita: The careless girl.
O no ya n'ahu: It's in her character.
Tufiakwa: God forbid.

P.s: It's nearly 5 am in the morn and the nexr chap comes soon! It's in Kian's POV!🥰🥰❤️
Love,
Nita.