I told Islam I was not going to marry her anymore.
She laughed out loud in great surprise and I wondered what was on her mind.
I never meant to hurt her feelings and I wished she would accept the news in good faith.
She listened and nodded and laughed as she absorbed the information which told her so much and yet so little; so much because it might affect the course of her life and so little because I didn’t give her a reason why.
As I was speaking to her, a war was going on in my mind.
Was I doing the right thing or was I led by that Allison of a lady?
“Bryte!” said Islam, amazed.
“What a pleasant surprise!”
She was one of those ladies who always looked happy.
She looked so enchanting and charming and I felt guilty telling her that I was not going to marry her.
“I’m so sorry; I don’t know how to explain this.”
“Could you get out of my house.” She was on top of her voice.
“Don’t infuriate me further. Just get out of my sight, you disgust me.”
She said acidly and hauled herself to her feet.
“I wish you don’t feel down.
I wish…” I hesitated to add more words, not wanting to invite more trouble.
“Leave my house or I call the police.” She showed me the way out. “It’s a perfect idea going our separate ways.” She said out loud.
I left her house lugubriously.
The drumbeats of my leaving deafened my eardrums and shattered my mind.
I knew I wasn’t doing what I should have but Allison’s condition influenced my rapid action.
Islam was my feast of joy.
I had given her the whole of my heart but destiny had put us asunder.
If wishes were horses, I would have ridden with her to an unknown land completely out of sight😔
Like a flowing river, irredeemable promises had overflowed from my sugar coated tongue.
Marrying allison was the last thing on my mind but her pregnancy had compelled me to be with her.
Regrettable regrets had begun to creep in and sunk was I in the ocean of despair.
While I was driving home, I shuddered to think that my marriage to Allison would be successful🤔
I had no strong feelings for her like I had for Islam
In fact, I was engrossed with thoughts about islam and I couldn’t forgive myself for breaking the relationship.
I was dodging some pot-holes on the rickety road as I was driving home when I hit a hawker.
“Oh my God.” I exclaimed.
I really thanked God she wasn’t injured because that might have been my end.
A teeming crowd had gathered and was almost hitting my car and I with sticks when the hawker shouted and said she was alright.
I gave the salesgirl some money before I entered my car.
As I was kick starting it, my phone beeped.
It was an unknown number, so I hesitated to pick it up.
It beeped and beeped and beeped before I decided to answer the call.
“Hello, is this Mr. Morallson ?” It was Dr. Millicent👩⚕️ from the St.Johns Grammer Hospital 🏥
“Yes, how can I help you doctor?”
“Oh, Miss Allison was rushed to our hospital after an auto crash and the only person she had been calling was you and one Miss Islam.”
“Auto crash? Where?” Tears had wetted my eyes😭
“I’m sorry but you have to come to the hospital immediately.”
“I’ll be there soon.”💔😳😱 I responded with a cracking voice.
The news of Allison’s accident destabilized my mind
I was driving on high speed. 🚙
I passed the Silicon central market ,full of people buying and selling
The huge crowd was doing commerce, moving from every direction, carried forward as if by ocean waves.
Beggars were scattered on the streets and people passed them, dropping some notes.
Among the beggars were women with loose hair, bare feet and bare shoulders with wrinkles of frustration on their faces.
They were dressed in tattered rags as they begged for money.
Disappointment, anger, bitterness and suffering were released from the way they looked which obviously and openly told their stories of misery and melancholia
When I reached the St.Johns Grammer hospital 🏥, I was warmly welcomed by the nurses and when I introduced myself, they took me to the room where allison lay.
As soon as I entered the room, the doctor spoke and I felt my heart breaking into pieces like a ceramic plate💔💔😱
“She gave up.”😳
“Doctor, doctor, this can’t be true.” Islam shouted and began shedding tears😭
“Mr. Morallson, I’m sorry for your loss.” The doctor said as she walked out.😨
I regretted my relationship with islam😒
What was in her that all and sundry loved her? Lovely, nice and kind she was.
In her, I found love so rare.
The day she glowed in my sight, a comely bright light took away my plight as her eyes radiated joy.
With her, I walked with head held high.
“Was she the girl you wanted to marry?” Islam asked.
“Yes.” I said, nodding my head.
I knelt down, begging Islam and she smiled.
‘Years of fruitless search have shown me that I will never find another woman like you.” I said and I got a slap from Islam
“Get out of my sight, you wretched gold digger.” She hissed and walked out on me.
I was shocked at the caliber of men and women that came for allison’s burial ceremony.
Her father’s compound was full of people of different passions and professions.
In addition to the innumerable bankers, there were lecturers, politicians, pastors and other clergymen and women.
I wondered as I pondered where and how she knew all those men and women of substance.
It amazed me but I quickly remembered the popular adage that it didn’t matter what you knew but who knew you.
I remembered her saying that one of her greatest delights was that some renowned pastor had toasted her to the extent that he stooped so low to carry her handbag and called her “Miss” in a refined English accent on the first day of meeting.
She laughed a lot about it but I could easily understand how so easily it happened.
She was really a playgirl who stopped following men for what she could get in order to be my wife.
I thought she wanted to be my wife only because of the pregnancy but I saw a deeper reason: she wanted to put an end to her loose way of living in order to build a family of her own.
Even though my knowing her was for a short while, I really missed her.
Death’s stealing her away was painful and no amount of money could bring her back; I could no longer feel her behind me, stealthily and gently walking and touching me.
I couldn’t hear the crackles of her footsteps anymore; I couldn’t feel her gratifying presence as she walked from room to room with her eardrums blocked with earphones.
I had spent about four hours at her father’s compound before I sighted Islam, her eyes wet with tears.
I was drinking beer with the men when she was sharing food with other ladies.
The sight of the grains of rice was as white as her teeth and the stew appeared daintily spread on top, making hearts prepared the teeth for munching after the interment.
When islam saw me, she made a whistling hissing sound and everyone stared at her.
I told myself, I must not respond.
The hissing sound came again before she left the scene.
Most of the men looked at her lusciously as she hurriedly walked into the makeshift kitchen, shaking her butts, almost falling off her wrapper
I ate with a grace befitting the burial ceremony but I couldn’t stop thinking about Islam
I needed to speak to her and to make our relationship aright once again.
I loved her
I had always loved her and I would be doing myself a disservice if I let her out of my heart and life.
She was walking from one end of the compound to another, picking the used plates and spoons and I could read from her countenance that she was not herself.
I shuddered to think that she was thinking of me; she must be occupied with thoughts of her deceased friend, Allison .
As I watched her, I was thinking of how to go about talking to her.
Should I approach her directly or go through a middle person? I was thinking.
There was a rumbling and mumbling sound in the heavens🌩️
Rain clouds had darkened the sky, the booming sound of the thunder reverberated, preceded by the flash that came and disappeared with a click and a spark.
The rain came and in no distant time escalated into a roaring torrent with balls of ice trumping and drumming with force on the ground.
The trees in the compound were twisting and bending like a boat coated like a toad.
We all rushed inside the large sitting room and sat on plastic chairs as it was raining.
Fear was penetrating through my veins and muscles as I sat facing Islam in the parlour.
In a queer manner, she was looking right and left, up and down.
She stared steadily at the ceiling with wide open eyes.
I couldn’t make a move as she was surrounded by ladies and the luster of her eyes was not inviting.
I was drinking beer 🍾and at the same time wondering how on earth to approach her; I had called off the relationship and to ignite it again seemed but a uphill task, if not Sisyphean
Why don’t you sit properly, young man?” The fully bearded man seated next to me said with as much decisiveness as could be put into words.
I was almost falling off the plastic chair when another man held me up.
“That’s the problem with young men of today.
They drink themselves to stupor and forget that they are seated with elders.” The man said.
While the women were laughing at me, islam looked at me speechlessly, not smiling at all.
“Oh, I’m so sorry everyone.”
I dropped the bottle I was holding and turned round, surprised that I almost fell off the chair because my mind was saturated with thoughts about her.
I settled back in the chair and raised the bottle high.
The man next to me tried a few times to bring down the bottle but I held the bottle so tightly.
“Look my friend, could you behave yourself.” islam said out loud and everyone stared at her surprisingly.
“What!” I voiced out and could not speak further.
I was happy that she spoke and I brought down the bottle and sat properly.
There was a minute’s silence when I settled in the plastic chair.
The rain had stopped and the men had started going out.
I had no business to do but to greet allison’s parents and quietly take my leaf.
The front door was open and as people greeted her parents and parents, they find their way out.
As I set my feet outside after paying my condolences, I couldn’t walk to where my car was.
I turned my head and my face met one of the ladies and she stopped dead at the doorway.
“Excuse me please.” I called her and she suddenly and dramatically raised her voice so the whole people could hear.
I didn’t know what she had in mind and I retreated to my car.
After about one hour in my car, I saw a calmer lady coming out to throw some dirt and I approached her.
“Excuse me gentle lady.” I was trying to be as polite as possible.
“What can I do to you Mr. Drunkard.”
Her calling me Mr. Drunkard almost infuriated me but I needed her favour, so I remained calmed.
“Could you help me speak with somebody inside?” I asked and she stared at me up and down.
She was literally fuming and I was enjoying her anger, thinking she would listen to me but before I realized what was happening, she came out pouring water at me.
I quickly ran into the car and the water wet the body of my car.
I took a little time to think about what to do.
Deep within the recesses of my heart, I wanted to get back islam into my life.
I had wandered away from her.
As my mind wondered lazily about her, I saw her coming out of the gate of allison father’s house.
I had thought the throbbing of my heart will stop when I saw islam but it only got stronger.
It had not been so long when she came out of Allison’s father’s house but my mind had travelled from the east to the west, ruminating on what course of action to take.
Kick starting the car and driving towards her, I saw a group of ladies coming out from the gate and calling on her and so I stopped.
I waited till the ladies returned after giving her the handbag she forgot in allison’s father’s sitting-room.
A little after the ladies went in, I drove to her and stopped.
Knowing that my hesitation to speak could be disastrous and also knowing that my speaking too confidently could be equally disastrous, I spoke lightly.
“Can I give you a ride?”
“Give who a ride, you think I’m a whore?” She shouted and I made no comment.
I was trying to be as courteous as possible in order not to incur her wrath.
“I know I made the wrong choice but I want to make it up to you.”
“Make it up to who?” She hissed, turned her face and continued to walk.
I tried to pull myself together, telling myself that I was not going to let her pass me by.
I came down from the car and walked on to her.
“Can I have a word with you please?”
“Get out of my side before I lose my temper.” She bawled and stared at me with an inscrutable expression.
“But you’re the only one for me; please don’t break what’s left of my heart.”
I was dimly aware that this was my real self talking.
I wanted her so badly and I was willing to do whatever that was humanly possible to reach the deepest recesses of her heart.
“Why can’t you understand that you disgust me?”
Talking to her was a panic of some sorts because it was obviously clear that she didn’t want to listen to me at all.
In spite of that, I didn’t want to be moved; it was vital that I kept my emotions on a tight leash as I tried to reach her heart of heart.
To my amazement, she stood looking at me eye-ball-to-eye-ball and I felt like a piece of rope, bedraggled and frayed but not being dismayed as I spoke on.
“There’s no woman like you in the whole wide world; you’re the only woman for me.”
I knelt down and pleaded and staring me with her wet eyes, she smiled and held me up.
“You’re the only man for me.” She said softly and hugged me so passionately.
“I love you so dearly, my words can’t fully tell.”
I whispered into her ears.
“I love you too.” She voiced out like a breath of air as tears rolled down her cheeks.
I saw in her eyes what deep love she had for me.
“I shall prove to the whole world that I’ve not known any woman like you.”
I said earnestly as I held her hand as we gingerly walked to the car.
We talked excitedly as I was maneuvering the steering wheels of my car, driving home.
“So why were you drinking like a mad man?”
“It was just because I couldn’t accept the fact that you were out of my life.”
As we talked and laughed,
the uppermost thought on my mind was to make my home with islam.
I dismissed all unpractical love theories as absurd and concluded that she was the woman of my dreams and the materialization of my creative genius.
She was a splendid woman of whose love I was really proud of.
“Oh dear, what can I do to have you all my life-long?”
She blushed, smiled, and looked at me, seemingly searching for the right words to respond.
My question seemed to be her mind’s chief consideration as the minutes passed amid the chaos of human feelings, affections and passions.
“Love me truly and I’ll be faithful to you for all ages.”
As the words tumbled from the tip of her tongue, I drew closer and kissed her.
It was not a moment of indecision.
I was fully sure I loved her and hardly will any woman, man or thing could put us asunder.
When we reached my house, she said I should take her home.
“No islam.” I said, then hesitated, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“I said take me home dear.”
She repeated herself.
Her tone was so urgent and she looked so weak that I complied at once, saying with much compunction, “I’ll take you home dear but can we have a drink to our renewed love?”
She did not trust herself to reply but smiled.
I took her smile as an affirmative response and led her into my house.
We quickly had a drink and I never anticipated the fact that taking her home was not a desire come true.
She looked so frail that I thought she was ill.
I held her and was leading her to the bedroom when she tried leaning away from me but she was fragile. I took her up and took her in.
I had not dropped her on the bed when her head turned, her eyes already closed.
She had been stolen away by sleep and I couldn’t do anything to bring her back to consciousness.
I quickly showered before I joined her on bed.
When she woke up around 2.00am, she did not shout, cry out or even shrink when she saw herself enwrapped in my arms.
“What happened? I told you to take me home.” She said with a smile.
“There’s no need for explanations.” She started kissing me.
In the weeks and months that followed, islam and I did our engagement and marriage ceremonies. .
We traveled outside the city for our honeymoon and during those memorable moments, I learned to love and pamper my wife in ways hitherto unexplored
Though both socially and educationally of the same strata, I admired my wife’s feminine maturity and gave her the respect she deserved.
I found to my surprise that my better half was not only a movie lover but a well-read woman, and could discuss most subjects with fluency.
She was my best friend, lover and confidante.
She was a great lover such as I had always imagined and fantasized about…
a woman who could carry you with her to the loftiest heights of ecstasy; a woman who could make a man forget everything and everyone in the world, knowing only that she was in his arms.
She was confident that whatever the future had in store for us two, she would have a perfect honeymoon, and that the memory of which would become a classical story.
My fears of an unhappy marriage dispersed; my distrust swept away.
I loved her with such an intensity of passion that nothing could come in between us
The night before the end of our honeymoon, I took our suitcases out of the wardrobe where we had stacked them and begun to arrange them in preparation for our journey the next day.
My wife entreated for quiet and rest and I left her alone, arranging our clothes, books and flowers into the suitcases.
She lay on the bed with wide, fixed gaze at me as I neatly arranged our things for our travel the following day.
She was the woman who could kindle my spirit and inspire the best in me.
Heretofore, I had girlfriends here and there as a matter of habit but in my vivid, glowing and renewed self-consciousness, I decided to discontinue my flirtations and let my wife be my one and all.
I made the choice to shrink away from my flirtatious way because it could only shatter my mind and batter my family.
One of the chief dreams of my ambition was to be my spouse’s faithful hubby.
When I finished arranging our things and joined her on bed, I was drawing her to myself when her face changed into that of Cynthia 😨😨.
I bellowed and she became suddenly afraid.
She asked me what was it and as I narrated my story to her and how I brutally cut short Cynthia’s life, she looked at me and if not the sincerity she saw emitting from my eyes, she would have simply carried her suitcase and depart from my life😂😂
But she loved me so dearly and passionately and instead of condemning me, she asked me for the details and proffered solution to the problem.
As she spoke with love and tenderness, listening to me as I listened to her, I felt what unquantifiable love she had for me.
In this world where love seemed but on sale, finding someone who truly loved me was a treasure beyond measure.❤️🌹🌹
“So why did you hide the truth of her death from even her family?”
Her lower lip lovingly quivered as she spoke.
Perhaps that was why her carefully chosen words admirably flowed into each other, culminating in a beautiful accent.
“I hid the truth simply because I was afraid of the consequences.
Cynthia was highly loved by her family and killing her could end in the death of the murderer.”
Islam nodded her head and held my hand tightly.
“I love you❤️ and this hunting and haunting will soon be a story of the past.”
She encouraged me, gave me hope and kissed me for the night.
The following day when we reached home, Islam told me I had to go to Cynthia’s parents and tell them the truth about their daughter; they had believed that their daughter was killed but never saw her corpse😨😨
She accompanied me to Cynthia’s family house in the suburb of the city and when we reached, we were warmly welcomed.
“Daddy, somebody is parking his car in front of our house.” Joel, Cynthia’s younger brother told his father who was pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he got up to look us.
“Who is it?” Cynthia’s father asked.
“O-oh, it’s Mr. Morallson , Cynthia’s fiancée.”
“That handsome young man…
has he remembered the way to our house?”
“Yes Papa but I think he has married another woman.”
“That’s not a problem, go in and call your mother.” The old man said, staring at my wife and I as we greeted him, widening his narrow eyes as he answered us, leading us to the sitting-room.
When Cynthia’s mother joined us, she recognized me and greeted I and my partner so convivially.
“So what brought you to our house my son?” Cynthia’s father asked.🤔🤔
“Have you seen her?” Cynthia’s mother stood joyfully.😄😄😁
Joel was standing and listening to us silently.
The film of sweat drizzling from my face gave way to a dripping wetness on my forehead, my neck and chest and I almost stammered as I made my confession😢😱😱😱😨
“I didn’t know you were so wicked.” Cynthia’s mother said when I finished narrating my story😭😭
Cynthia’s father made no comment; he seemed to be focused on every word that tumbled from the tip of my tongue.
He turned and looked at me and then came a gentle smile on his face. .
Joel glanced at me, then turned back and went in.
“My son, now that you’ve told me the truth about my daughter, may her spirit torment you no more.”😭😢❤️
As he was blessing me and my wife, Cynthia’s mother and brother joined us and expressed their forgiveness😇
Immediately i looked up and found Cynthia smiling at me 😊😊 and she waved me goodbyes 😢🤗🤗
I regretted ever loosing such a lady from my life😢😔
She vanished into the tin air..👋
My wife and I were happy and talked vivaciously on our way back home😇😇
7 years later Islam gave birth to set of twins one boy🤴 one girl👸
Bright 🤴and Bridget 👸
They asked me ,what name would the story of my life should be…
I just laughed and thought about what ve gone through all these past years, there was an a tears in my cheeks , I told them it would be MY FAIRYTALE.
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