“Why isn’t she from our tribe?” I heard his sister’s voice bellowing from the kitchen where she had earlier dragged him to upon knowing he had proposed and I had accepted to be his wife. I felt the bile rise in my throat as each word she said cut through me like a double edged sword; but I was calm, at least till we bid her farewell and drove out of her home.

“Your sister doesn’t like me, I have tried to ignore her insults and silly remarks about my tribe, my skin colour, my clothes, my shoes and even my accent”.

“Don’t sound that way, she is just being paranoid knowing her baby brother will be married soon and start a fam….

“I don’t want to know anymore, I would just ignore her but she shouldn’t cross my path, or else…”. I stopped abruptly as the car came to stop. I alighted and walked into my house leaving ‘Niyi confused and sober.

‘Niyi and Lola were the two children of Mr. and Mrs. Adewale Bornford, who lost their lives to an auto crash six years ago. Being the eldest, Lola assumed responsibility as bread winner and head of the family thus having a strong and final say in whatever decision they had to make as a family. It had always been so until now.

She walked in and ignored my greeting.

“Is my brother home?” She asked.
“He hasn’t returned from work”.

I made to help with her luggage but she brushed off my hand and walked straight to the guest room.

I woke up that beautiful Saturday morning and walked into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, there she was, making her favourite meal of toast bread and corned beef.

“Good morning Sis” , I greeted and started humming to the tune playing in my head.

“Morning” , It was as unclear as a scoff but it was good for a change.
I smiled and went about my business. I turned up the cooker and began cooking.

I was scared for my life, for my ‘Niyi, for our unborn child.

At the hospital, I paced to and fro, waiting for the doctor to come give me an explanation. I waited for the doctor to shed more light on the sudden stomach upset which my ‘Niyi began complaining of after a few spoons of a breakfast of rice and fried eggs.

As he walked towards us, his steps were slow , his head bowed, every now and then he wiped sweat from his brow; my fear grew with each movement,

“I’m sorry” , were the only words I heard the doctor say as I slumped.