𝓛𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓼

"No, no, I can’t go, Omoh; besides, I have lectures to attend at Greg; I won’t have the time," I inform Omoh, who keeps pestering me about going to her boyfriend’s get-together party at his place. I have finally enrolled at GREG for their entrepreneurship classes, a step I think will be good for me.

 
Omoh and I are at the local market, buying groceries. We tour the market, shop to shop, unable to find one of the items on our list: unripe plantains. I plan to prepare plantain porridge this evening, but I guess that craving will be postponed. Omoh suggests we buy the ripe one, but I protest against it. We halt in front of a convenience store when I hear my phone ring. I take out the phone from my purse and find Ubong's number on the screen.

 
"It’s him again, isn’t it?" Omoh asks, looking at me. I told Omoh everything I encountered during my interview with Mrs. Ruth. I remember how hard I cried while narrating. She did her best to console me and encourage me to forget about him, but how can I? When he keeps bugging me 24/7.
 

"Yes. And he's disturbing my life." I complain bitterly.
 

"How did he even get your number?" Omoh asks curiously.
 

"He said he took it from his wife’s phone." I replied, ignoring the call.
 

"Has he said what he wants?" I hear her ask again.
 

"He wants us to sit down and talk. Can you imagine?" Feeling irritated as the words roll out.
 

Leading the way out of the spot we stood, Omoh remarks. "Maybe he feels sorry; he’s still Unwana’s father."
 

My emotions react to what my friend Just said, and instantly, I feel my anger rise, and I yell, "No, he isn't." I forced myself to disagree. "He made sure of that."
 

I watch Omoh's eyes bulge in confusion the moment she stops to ask me, "What do you mean?"
 

I observe what caused the misunderstanding and respond, "Of course, Ubong is Unwana's father. a man who refused to acknowledge and left his unborn kid. Can you picture it? Because he had publicly denied having an affair with me, the scandal was so severe that my parents had to draft a contract stipulating that he would never be eligible to be the father of their grandchild. He was aware that the child was his, therefore I suppose he chose not to cause friction with his true family. He nevertheless signed the document, which the local government office stamped. I constantly wonder what inspired my mother to prepare that contract, but her response was that she had seen it in movies and predicted that the father would eventually desire sole custody of the child. And if eventually he takes you to court, all the pain you endured while raising that child, all the humiliation you encountered, and all the nights spent awake will be wasted." Sad memories resurface as I explain,  "And I remember her wanting so badly that I don't fall victim to that,"
 

Omoh tilts her head downward as though feeling guilty for provoking me with her earlier statement. Wow, so what are you going to do?" She asks in an almost sorry tone.
 

"I’m going to not see him or speak to him." I briefly tell her.
 

"You know you can’t change your number."
 

I know that. Unwana knows this number by heart, and it's the only way she can reach me in case of emergency, so I can't afford to change this line.

 
"Ok, give me your phone." Omoh request.
 

I oblige and hand my phone to her. Behind Omoh, I see a meat seller under a wooden shade. I walk towards his stand and place my order. "Cut meat; three thousand naira for me." I tell the butcher.
 

"Take." I hear Omoh speak from behind me, handing my phone back to me. "I’ve blocked his number." She informs me.
 

Why didn't I think of that? I smile "Thank you."
 

"You know you need a little distraction to get your mind off Ubong and Chidi. Come to the party with me, please!" Omoh finds a convenient moment to bring up her boyfriend's party again. She isn't one to give up so easily.
 

"And now we are talking about the party over again." I say this while rolling my eyes at her and collecting the meat from the butcher.
 

"It’ll be fun, and your lecture is in the morning. It won’t stop you," she assures stubbornly.
 

"O-o-oh Omoh!" I grumble like a child, pouting my lips, but I can no longer decline.
 

"I’ll take that as a yes." She insists, smiling.
 

"Fine. Are you happy now?"
 

"Of course, I’m ecstatic." She laughs as we walk off.
 

I know the party will take my mind off things, but I don’t want to be caught off guard, having too much fun, when trouble locks at the corner, waiting for the right moment to strike.
 

We do one more round in the market, making sure we've bought everything on our list to avoid returning to the market again.
 

After doing that, Omoh stopped a bike for us. I let her climb on first, and she adjusted a bit—enough for me to sit behind her. Then the bike man drives off.

893 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘

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𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕦𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝔼𝕟𝕠 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕕𝕠 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕌𝕓𝕠𝕟𝕘? 𝕃𝕖𝕥 𝕦𝕤 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤.