She'd waited long enough. The priest had pronounced them man and wife over twenty minutes ago and her feet were starting to ache because of the awkward way she tired to stand in the stall. Her phone rang again. She starred at Miss Oyama's name displayed on her tablet.

She almost slid her fingers over the end button like she had for the previous calls but she picked the call and placed the phone against her ears.

"Where have you been?"

"Still in the toilet. I'm almost done."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes."

"Meet me in the tent. We're staying for the reception."

Romola's mouth dropped. They were staying.

"Ma?"

"My table number is 153. Hurry up. I'm not sure for how much longer I can reserve your seat." Miss Oyama ended the call.

Romola opened the mirror app on her tablet and stared at the tear stain that had marred her powdered face. Staying for the reception was not part of her plan. Had Victoria convinced Miss Oyama to wait? For what? Did she want to shove her husband in their faces?

Romola reached into the brown leather bag slung across her shoulder. She picked up some of the powder and repowdered her face till she was certain that her face looked much browner than her skin. She dropped her phone in her bag, along with the powder, then opened the stall door, allowing fresh air to flood her space.

The main toilet door opened and a young girl of about eleven came in. Romola glanced through the small opening at the wedding party. They stood beside the white tent, just opposite the walls of the church, and she would have to get past them to get to the tent.

She stood behind the door, pretending to work on her bra straps. How many steps would it take her from here to there? What if someone recognized her? Olumide? What of Yetunde?

Romola sucked in a deep breath and straightened her dress. Her head snapped up. Even worse, what if Victoria asked her to come and take a picture with them? Her hands rested on the door handle. She could walk with her bag covering her face but then, everyone would notice. Her best bet was to walk, quickly, as close to the railings as she could.

She squared her shoulders, walked around the door and out of the bathroom. She walked towards the railings that separated the church compound from the main street. From the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of people who walked to and fro, flocking around the couple by the tent.

She stood before the railing, took a deep breath and began a steady march towards the tent. She counted the steps in her head. As she neared the wedding party. Her eyes strayed to the photographers-- An old man with energetic moves and a young girl, moving lighting props around at the old man's directives. Her eyes slid down to the people surronding the couple. A man with greying hair in a green suit stood beside two girls who wore long braids and a spaghetti strap silky maxi gown. Beside them, Victoria smilied into the camera.

Romola's eyes strayed to the hand on Victoria's shoulder and her breath caught in her throat as she followed the hand to the body clothed in the white suit she'd seen on stage before she bolted out of the tent. Her eyes settled on the man's face and she stopped.

That wasn't Olumide.

That was Dami. Yetunde's brother.

Romola's brows furrowed. What was Dami doing hugging the bride in such a way? Where was Olumide? Was he okay with this? Her eyes scanned the row of men beside Dami. All of them were dresed in a dark blue suit with a pink bow tie. Olumide wasn't there.

Romola held the railings and watched the party of well wishers disperse.

The photographer consulted the list in his hands. "Alright. Pictures of the groom's family. Immediate family of the groom."

Romola folded her arms. Dami still wouldn't leave Victoria's waist and Olumide was yet to show up. An older fair tall man with a greying jaw joined the bride and groom along with a woman dressed in beautiful dark blue lace iro and buba. A young girl with a crown of pink flowers on her head stood in front of the bride and groom. Dami placed his hands on the girl's shoulder and she looked up at him, smiling.

A flash of recognition hit her. That was Modupe. Yetunde's younger sister. Younger sister? Was that right? And the woman with the buba was Yetunde's mom. She could see the resemblance with the cheeky smiles.

"Where is Yetunde na?" Dami's mother asked.

"Leave her. If she doesn't want to take part in this. That's her business. Photographer ya photo mi." Their father responded.

A click. A flash. And it was all over.

Romola's eyes widened as Dami leaned in and kissed Victoria on the lips. He was hers and she was his. They were the ones getting married. Not Victoria and Olumide.

"Yes." Romola punched the air.

She dropped her hands, cautious of the eyes thrown her way. Olumide wasn't married. Good. She wouldn't wish a fate of marriage to Olumide on her worst enemy. Including on Yetunde. Certainly not Yetunde. Olumide did not deserve someone as nice as Vicky. He deserved to remain unmarried for the rest of his life, forever seeking love and never finding it.

Romola tucked a small smile away and walked to the tent. Olumide's absence was one thing. She hadn't seen him around the other groomsmen but Yetunde's presence was another. It was best that she sat on her seat where she was least likely to be found by the spotlight or Yetunde.

She entered the hall, walking under the arch of roses. The endless rows of chair had been transformed to a hall of circular tables with number cards as centre pieces. Her eyes scanned the tables, using the number pieces as a map that led her to Miss Oyama's table.

Romola stared at the top hat beside Miss Oyama's head as she slid into the free chair opposite the woman.

Miss Oyama turned to her. "You were in there for a very long time. I hope all is okay."

"Yes." All was as it should be. "I had a runny stomach and there was no tissue in the toilet. I asked a little girl to get it for me but she just returned a few minutes ago."

"Are you fine?"

Romola rubbed her stomach, a small smile playing on her lips. "Much much better."

"You should've called me."

"I didn't want you to stand up while the wedding was ongoing. What if you stood up when the priest asked if anyone had anything against the marriage?"

Miss Oyama let out a feathery laugh and the top hat man laughed too, adding with a thick voice. "Well, that would've been interesting."

Romola put on a smile. What if she'd come out when the urge had been so strong that all she could do was cry? She wanted to rush into the tent and yell that he did not deserve to marry Victoria. That Victoria was much too good for him and maybe, just maybe, she still loved him. But that was a silly and vain imagination.

Her eyes looked around the table. A platter of small chops with chicken, gizzdodos and some snails sat with a can of chilled chapman. Every seat had an empty plate and a glass of bottled water before it.

Romola picked the tongs and began to fill it up her plate. She avoided the snails. She'd heard they were delicious but she couldn't imagine eating one without falling sick. She set the plate in front of her, said a quick prayer and picked a tooth pick. At least, there was one good part to coming to this wedding. Food. Lots and lots of it.

The chairs and table beside them filled up as the guests entered, then the bride and groom.

The programme progressed but Romola did not spare a glance at the stage. Between refilling her plates and two changes of meal courses, she listened to Mr. Top Hat tell fantastic and incredible stories of his time in England. Most of his stories felt far-fetched but it wasn't her place to tell him so. Miss Oyama seemed to view every word that dropped out his mouth as gold.

Romola sipped some wine and dropped the glass, wiping her lips with the serviette on her face. A hand trapped her shoulder and she turned to stare at the owner of the hand.

A chubby woman with round cheeks and wine braids packed in two mohawk-like buns, smiled at her. "Come out, please."

"What for?"

The MC's voice boomed in the speaker. "Alright, single ladies. This is your moment."

Romola's eyes narrowed at the woman. She was dressed in the same blue dress as the bridesmaids. "You want me to come out for?"

"It's time to throw the bouquet."

"Okay, but did I tell you that I'm single?"

The MC continued. "Come out if you know that you want to get married. You know some of you ladies only came to this wedding to find a husband. Come out now. Don't let the angel of wedding pass you by."

The wedding guests laughed at the MC while Miss Oyama asked, "Angel of wedding?"

"Yes oh." Mr. Top Hat nodded, his obtuse hat moving with him. "There is an angel of wedding?"

"This people just say the stupidest things." Miss Oyama said.

"Ma'am?" The bridesmaid held Romola's hand. "Come out now."

"Is it by force?"

"Romola, it's just going to be for a few seconds." Miss Oyama said.

"But I'm not looking for a husband."

"Miss Victoria asked me to call you out specifically."

Romola shook her head. What was Victoria trying to achieve? The wedding had progressed smoothly so far but if she went to the open space in front of the stage and she so much as shared a look with Yetunde, all hell would break loose.

"I'm not going out there."

"Ma'am. Victoria--"

"I said, I'M NOT GOING OUT THERE."

"Hmm." The bridesmaid followed her hands, hissing. "Victoria won't like this."

"If Victoria specifically asked for you,you should at least honour her request."

"Hmm, don't mind all these small girls. They won't get husbands now until all the good men have been snatched." Top Hat said.

Romola frowned, pushing her chair backwards. "Fine, I'll follow you but I'll stand where I want to stand."

"No problem."

The bridesmaid led the way to the centre stage, darting left and right while Romola tried to keep up. Romola fought against the widening of the bottom half of her dress. The hip and tigh hugging parts left little room for space for her to stretch her legs and her feet continually hit the thick walls of her dress. She switched to smaller faster steps. Losing the bridesmaid was not an option. She would not be stranded where any member of Dami's family could see her.

Her eyes flitted to the central stage. An open floor space in front of the stage, surronded by pillars of light over rose covered golden pedastals. The lights cast a glow on the white banner over the central stage where the words 'Damilare weds Victoria' stood out in printed letters. Victoria stood just before the stage playing with her roses as the DJ played the song 'All the SIngle Ladies' by Beyonce. A few feets away from her, closer to the guests arena, a increasing mill of girls and women stood there. A few older women stood with them. Romola taught she spied a few grey hairs. A mirthless chuckle filled her mouth. Were they also hoping to snag a man or where they just putting on a show?

She found her space at the back of the women, somewhere beside the table that held up the seven tier dark blue cake with pink roses at the base of each tier. This was away from the direct view of the lights, Victoria and the camera men.

A citrusy smell with a hint of vanilla hit her nose. She paused and looked up, inhaling the smell and letting it take residence in her lungs. That smell? She hadn't smelt that perfume since--

Her eyes narrowed at the girl just in front of her, the one with golden braids and the same blue spaghetti straps as the bridesmaid that had called her out.

Romola took a step back and hid behind another girl, a lot more closer to the cake than she was comfortable with but, more distant so that Yetunde couldn't see her as the first thing if she turned back. Everything was fine. She was at the back and at the end of the group. She wasn't too close to the guest arena and all she had to do was pretend to want to catch the bouquet while it fell to another side.

Her eyes ran back to the braids on the bridesmaid head, down to the fried groundnut chocolate shoulders. If only she could yank those braids without causing a scene. Yetunde more than deserved it.

"Oga MC. I'm ready oh." Victoria said.

"Mrs. Adeiga, calm down. I know you are ready to go to your husband's house."

"Before?"

The people laughed, those who heard what Victoria said but Romola glanced around the hall to where the groomsmen sat. Where was Olumide? Didn't he even have the basic human courtesy to show up for her bestfriend's wedding? Were they even still friends?

She shut her eyes, willing to descend into the depths of her mind to remember what she could about the pair. A new memory rose to the surface. It wasn't really a new one. Just one of the old ones that had mastered the hide-and-seek game in her brain. Olumide and Dami had fought once about her living in their house. She hadn't seen Dami since then until that day at the hotel. He was there, wasn't he? So where was Olumide now on the day of Dami's wedding?

"Before we throw the bouquet, we need to know if the single ladies are ready. Ladies, give me a shout if you are?"

Screams filled the air but the MC shook his head. "Some of you people are not ready. If you know that you know that you want to get married, throw your hands in the air."

The women screamed, throwing their hands right and left. Romola stepped away from the girl in front of her. The lackadisical way the girl threw her hands could lead to blindness.

"See, Mister." Victoria pointed the flower at him. "The person that will catch this flower will do so without all this shouting."

Vicky shot a confident look in Romola's direction. Their eyes met. Romola shook her head.

Victoria nodded, smiling and turning around. "Let's do this."

"Alright. On the count of three, one of you ladies will be a very lucky woman. One, two, three..."

The bouquet sailed into the air and Romola watched it begin a trajectory towards her. She remained rooted to the floor, hands glued to her sides as she watched it get closer and closer until the girl in front of her stumbled backwards, clutching her face.

"Jesus." The girl said, falling down and pressing the area above her nose.

Romola looked up to see Yetunde in the air, clutching the bouquet and landing gracefully on her feet, her left elbw-- the weapon that had injusred her competitor-- still crooked.

She waved the bouquet in the air, dodging over eager competitiors, "I've got it. I got it!"

"We have a winner."

Romola's shoulder's fell as her lungs released air. She raised her eyes and Victoria's gaze locked on hers with a slightly disappointed look like that of a mother who had hoped to avoid an expectant failure of a child.

Romola shrugged. There was no way, she would be going for that bouquet.

Romola stared at the competition. A few others women had surrounded the girl and were trying to calm her sobs. All she'd wanted was a bouquet but instead, all she got was Yetunde's elbows planted in her face. Romola's facial features hardened. Yetunde still didn't play fair.

"Okay, oya, all of you go back to your seat. You can't all catch the bouquet. Maybe try again next wedding."

"Yep." Romola stared at the weeping girl.

The bouquet wasn't worth a black eye from Yetunde. She turned, so she could chart her way back to her table.

"Wait." A voice boomed into the speaker.

Romola paused, along with the other females around her. They looked at the stage. She kept her eyes on her feet. She hadn't stopped because of the command. She'd stopped because of the voice.

Author's Note:

Hello readers,

I am truly sorry for the delay in posting this but a couple of things came up this past two weeks and I couldn't get around to doing this. I know this had been an anticipated chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.