Chapter 4

The smell of fried plantain clung to my wrapper as I carried the last tray into the dining room. Mama had insisted on making the dinner herself, but somehow, every task found its way into my hands. From pounding yam till my arms burned to cutting vegetables until my eyes stung, I worked like a servant while she barked orders over my shoulder.

We were already married and it was just a month after our wedding. There was no honeymoon and no time for the both of us to have sometime with each other.

Emeka had said ,he was returning back to work immediately and mama needed him to take good care of the family’s business, hence there was no time for us to travel out for our honeymoon.

I was so sad but there was nothing much I could do.

Mama had organized a little gathering for only family members, which she said was a way to celebrate my coming into the family.

By the time the relatives started arriving ,her sisters, cousins, even one woman from her church ,my back ached, and my head pounded. Still, I forced a smile as Mama ushered them in, her voice high with pride.

“My people, you are welcome! Come and see how God has blessed me with a daughter-in-law. It is her hand that cooked all this food.”

They clapped politely, nodding in approval, and for a brief second, I felt a small glow of satisfaction. But before I could breathe, Mama added, almost spitting the words,

“Of course, I supervised. If not, who knows what we would have been eating tonight. My son cannot eat anyhow food.”

Laughter erupted around the table. I kept my head down, hiding the heat crawling up my neck. I wanted to disappear into the floor.

I knew this was what I had to get ,marrying at such an early age of 18 without no skill, job, or money.

As everyone settled, Mama turned sharply to me.

“Amaka, stand up and serve my son. A wife must know her duty.”

I obeyed quietly, carrying his plate to the dishes, serving him carefully, then setting it before him. My hands trembled, but I tried to mask it with a small smile.

“Good,” Mama said. “Now bring him water. After that, clear these plates once he finishes. Don’t just sit down like a visitor.”

Her words stung. I felt all their eyes on me , some pitying, some amused, some simply waiting for my reaction. Something inside me snapped.

I rose slowly, placed the water gently before my husband, and then turned back to Mama.

“With respect, Mama,” I said, my voice steady though my heart raced, “I will serve my husband because I love him, not because I am ordered to, especially not in front of everyone. I am his wife, not a child, and not a maid.”

The air froze. Forks paused midway, and glasses hovered in hands. My husband’s eyes widened as though he was seeing me for the first time. Mama’s face tightened, her lips pressed into a hard line.

“In my own house?” she hissed. “You dare to talk back to me in front of my family?”

I held my ground, even though my knees threatened to buckle. For the first time, I wasn’t just shrinking into silence.

I looked around the house on which she always bragged about, a house which was built by her late husband and I wondered if this was the way her mother in-law also treated her?

My husband finally cleared his throat, his voice low and nervous.

“Mama, please. Let’s not fight. Amaka didn’t mean any harm.”

The apology wasn’t for me , it was for her. And it pierced deeper than her insults.

Mama clapped her hands dramatically, the sound sharp.

“See how she is already turning you against me! This is how marriages scatter. Mark my words.”

I sat down, pushing food around my plate without tasting it. Conversation resumed in whispers, but I could feel the tension pressing down on me from every side.

Later that night, in our room, he sat beside me, avoiding my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t think Mama would go that far.”

I looked at him, my chest tight. “You don’t need to tell me sorry. You need to decide where you belong , with me, or under her roof and her rules.”

He reached for my hand, but his touch was light, uncertain. His silence told me everything his lips refused to say.

He was ten years older than I, but his attitude was like that of someone ten years younger than I.

That night, as I lay awake staring at the ceiling, I knew this was only the beginning. The night was so long for me, and I found it so difficult to sleep. A part of me was happy. I spoke back at her while another was so tense and feared the unknown.

"Why can't Emeka talk sense into his mother for once " , I found mys3lf asking while he laid beside me snoring loudly ,obviously enjoying hus night rest ,while I struggled to sleep myself.