Chapter Four
It did sound funny.

Finally, the drums and singing for the entrance of the bride came after all the rites. Tiwa was beautiful. What she wore was far more sophisticated than what she had on when they visited her parents' home. Now it is her turn to go and make a new home.

In her mind, she continues to pray she survives with this man.
"Tiwa my daughter, I have trained you well. Do well in your husband's house. Do not let them insult me that I did not train my child well..."
Tiwa listened to her mother's continuous advice. They had come rolling in since the day of the visit. 

She did not like Dele but she had made up her mind to endure, maybe eventually he would grow to respect her.

Respect not love. Love is not possible. Who would love her? The thought saddened Tiwa but she knew it was the truth.

Dele watched as Tiwa danced with her entourage behind her. The dancing made her limp seem non-existent. That made Dele think of all the possibilities had he not been a reckless child.

Their wedding went, as all weddings should. Celebration upon celebration. The only exception were the fake smiles planted on the groom and bride's faces.

Their parents were sincerely happy though. It was the almost–end, it was time for the night. Their wedding night

Tiwa's head was in all directions. This night she would give her gem to her husband. Dele on the other hand did not mind.

 'At least I would gain a few benefits with the marriage'.

Tiwa sat on the finely laid bed. The white sheet beneath her.

Her nerves shook at the thought of being naked before a man she dreads with all her heart and might. She did not know the secrets of lovemaking; her greatest fear was that she would be a disappointment to her family.

Worse would be if Dele refused to have her.
The opening of the door interrupted her thoughts.

In came her new husband. Now, Tiwa was visibly shaking. She did not know what to expect. She just sat still. Maybe if he saw her, he would give instructions for her to follow.

She was still fully dressed from head to toe. The beads of her attire still in place. Her mind out of place.

Dele walked in regally. The lamps that were set at distinct corners of the room made nothing seem hidden. 

First, he removed his beads and then his agbada. Placing each article in the appropriate place, he turned to his wife. She looked naïve. She averted her eyes from his. The worst was when her gaze dropped to his bare chest. She turned sharply.

Tiwa could only observe the man before her. His muscular chest and abdomen. She did not realize that she was staring until she noticed his lips twitch to a smirk. The time had finally come and fear gripped her entirety.

He advanced towards her clad in only his sokoto. He bent to her level and began to remove her adornments. Slowly, he removed her earrings, then her necklace. His hands tracing her collar bone. This made her take a sharp intake of breath.

Dele eyes held hers even when she tried to turn away, he would hold her chin to look at him. He them gestured for her to move back. She did.

He kissed. All over but they were not kisses of love but pleasure. He did everything for the sake of tradition.

He slowly started to take off her attire. Her buba, followed by her iro.
"Please..." She held his hands as the glided to her now loose apparel.
"Sshh..." He silenced her as he continued on his antics never stopping until she was fully undressed.

Tiwa struggled to cover her nudity. Her shyness making it hard to give way to her now aroused husband. He freed himself of his own raiment.
Then He went on to straddle her.

She felt the pain as he broke her boundary. She had finally lost her virginity to the only man who had right to it. Her husband.

He tried to soothe her pain by cooing gentle words to her.
That helped to wade off her tears.
The next morning, Dele presented the white sheet to the Elders. It was stained with blood. A good thing.

...........

After the marriage...
The morning came sooner than Tiwa had expected. The previous night was a realistic nightmare. The sun had not risen.

 She looked to the space beside her on her new matrimonial bed. There lay her new husband
Yes, her new husband. She looked around the dim room. Her attire was nowhere to be found. He had done away with it the night before. It was indeed her wedding night.

With tears gathered in her eyes, she threw her sore self off the bed and found a wrapper to make herself decent. 

HE did not rape her but that added no joy to her empty self.
She gathered her things and stood at the door's rim. She then looked back to see him. He stirred in his sleep but never awoke. With this, she left to the stream to cleanse herself.

Tiwa did not forget to carry along a clay pot. She would kill multiple birds with one stone by fetching the water needed for the day.

At the stream, she was alone. She sat to think. He husband was handsome but he did not want her. He made it clear when she was still a teenager. That was why she moved away when she turned sixteen.

She removed the wrapper and hid behind some bushes to bathe. She arose when she was done. To her utmost surprise, she was no longer alone. She rose her eyes to find Dele taking a good look at her nudity. She rushed to her wrapper but his words interrupted.

"There is no need to hide what I have already seen and touched."
Not adhering to his comment, she still strapped her form with the cloth.

The look on his face irritated her. It was not one of delight. He hid his emotions well. He gave away nothing.

"I thought men would be happy to find their wives as virgin" She retorted but the reply she earned silenced her.

"If you were not virgin it would be easier to put you away. So wife, tell me, why should I be happy?" he rubbed a hand on his stubble almost looking curious for an answer he did not receive.

Tiwa bowed her head low, remembering what her mother had advised. She would not bring disgrace to her mother.

"I will heading home now," she told
"I only wish you are not referring to my house" Dele replied with faux-calm. 

As a dagger had just ripped through her chest. She felt like she had many years ago. Rejected.
She gathered her things filled her pot and placed it on her head, steadying it with her hand. She knew he was looking for reason to put her away. She could not make her mother a laughing stock.

Following behind his wife, Dele took note of her. She did not limp as badly as she did when she was younger. Indeed, she could balance a pot on her head. He would not lie .She was beautiful. Her skin resembled the color of fine clay. He knew how it felt. Smooth and clean. Her hair braided in the local hairstyle. She eyes had a noticeable brown unlike most whose eyes resembled black until close inspection. Yes, she was beautiful but he would never let her know he thought so. The moment he lets his guard down, he would lose the upper hand. He did not want that.

The journey 'home' was quiet and filled with tension. Apart from the occasional greeting from passers-by. Tiwa walked in front of her husband without uttering a word, not even when she felt faint.

Finally, the hut came into view and she released a sigh of relief. She needed rest. Sincerely, the whole journey wearied her. The tension and the length.

Dropping the pot at the corner of the hut she went in to tidy the house. The elders had left before she arose. They had already blessed her marriage as tradition beckoned.
As she tidied the hut, she hummed a song. At the time, the cock crowed. The sun was already across the sky. Tiwa almost done with her chores.

Dele walked in on her bending over his clothes. Folding and rearranging. He had a complete view of her. She noted his entry by straightened up when she heard him clear his throat.

"My Husband" she replied with courtesy.

"Do not call me that," Dele grunted 

"Then what do I call my husband" She said with irritation laced in her voice.
"I am not..." he started and then stopped when he realized her statement was true. He was then her husband.

"Call me by name" he ended
"But people see it as disrespectful, I can..."
He stopped his wife by raising a palm.

"I did not come here to argue. You will call me by my name. Dele"
She replied with a low nod

"I came to ask for my breakfast"

"I am busy now. I will take care of that when I am done" She was sincerely apologetic. Her husband turned and walked away.

When he was out of sight, she fell to the bed 
"It is just the first day and I am tired already" Just truly the adventure had begun.

...........................
A/N: According to the Yoruba tradition that I have learnt (from my mother and school), the white cloth laid on the bed is to retain the blood from the broken hymen of a newlywed woman. If there is no blood (she is not a virgin) the husband has right to put her away. She would be an epitome of public disgrace and would carry a pot of ashes on her head and walk round the village to show that she was not chaste.

Bonus fact: The Yoruba people have the highest rate of twins in the world!
That is whole lot of babies.

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Thanks @_Jhade. You're a really lovely person!