I have often heard the saying “the first cut is the deepest”…. I disagree. Nothing beats making the same mistake a second time and having it hurt just as much as the first time. After Tunji’s mother’s visit and her curt declaration that I was officially on my own, I remembered all the reasons I had called off the wedding the first time.
It was never out of lack of love for Tunji. It was never out of fear that he would not make a good husband or father. It was because of what the union meant to everyone around us. It felt like a business transaction. Like a merger between two conglomerates. If not, how do you explain a mother intentionally sabotaging her son’s happiness because she was nursing a personal grudge?
Truth be told, Tunji was as much of a mummy’s boy as I was a daddy’s girl and I knew what would happen if I filled my father in on the second phase of the drama. I knew how much my father valued Tunji and his family and I was not willing to be the cause of a family feud that would probably cause unnecessary pain and hurt.
I waited till evening, still no word from Tunji and so I decided to find my way to the airport and leave alone. That had always been the plan and so it was just as well. Mr. Vincent, my mother’s talkative driver had been on standby to drive me to the airport and as he loaded my luggage in the car, he seemed more excited than usual.
“Madam Sewa, I will miss you”. He said with a wide smile as he drove through the open gate.
“The way you are smiling, you don’t look like you will miss me”. I said to him.
A few minutes into the ride, he made an announcement.
“Please, mummy said I should drop something for her friend around here. It won’t take long”.
“Mr. Vincent, I won’t find it funny if I miss my flight. You can do this on your way back”. I said in a stern voice.
He apologized and mumbled something under his breath but made the detour anyway. I was fuming but managed to remain calm. We pulled into a luxurious hotel and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
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