Sofia was her name. My brother brought her home one Saturday evening and had introduced her to the family as his fiancee.
“Mom, dad, this is Sofia Okereke. She is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. We just got engaged two days ago”. My brother had said.
“Wow! Congratulations to the both of you”. Mom said.
She then patted the girl gently on the back.
….You’re welcome to the family, girl”. She said.
“Thanks, mom. Thanks dad”. The lady said, her face beaming with smiles.
“You’re welcome to the family”. I muttered along with my sisters.
The truth is, I wasn’t impressed with my brother’s choice. Why? I honestly don’t know why. But I think maybe it has something to do with the scâr on the right side of her neck. Or maybe her wig, which was too flashy for my liking. Or maybe the fact that she walked into the living room with her shoes on. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya.
Brother Steve ought to have done better. A tall handsome lecturer, working in the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, one of the most prestigious institutions in west Africa, he had higher chances of getting the most attractive, well cultured girl in the world. SMH
We sat in the living room watching as my parents quizzed the lovebirds about a lot of things. How they met, what their plans were and all of that.
At last, dinner was served. As we ate, I didn’t take my eyes off the lady. I tried to force myself to like her, but I just couldn’t. Everything about her person irr¡tates me.
I thought I was the only one with concerns, but it wasn’t until after they both had left that I discovered that almost everyone in the house had their reservations, including mom.
“You guys need to talk to your brother. Of all the girls in UNN, this is what he could come up with?”. She said, shaking her head in disappointment.
My elder sister, Stella, hissed
“I have always known that Steven has a very p00r taste in women”. She observed.
“That scár on the side of her neck. Who else notices it?”. I chipped in.
“Hmm. I didn’t see anything wrong with that lady, ohh! She is pretty. And I think I like her already”. That was Amarachi, my ann0ying half-sister…always playing the good girl.
Everyone frowned at her.
“Why won’t you like her? She is your fellow dwárf! You should like her’’. Stella sighed.
“Short engine!”. I muttered.
She stared at me and shook her head.
“So now, you think you’re tall, eh, Carolina?”. She asked.
“At least, I am taller than y0u and that girl put t0gether”. I bragged.
“Now that’s enough, all of you!.
That was dad. He has been listening quietly to our conversations.
Everyone went mute.
….Your brother is a man and has just made his choice. Your opinions don’t count in this matter. So kindly put your observations and reservations in your pocket”. He added..
And that brought an end to the conversation.
The next two weeks were a blur. The lady, Sofia, tried her best to keep in touch. Having collected our contacts on her first visit, she called us, all of us in the house, every two days. But the calls only w0rsened the situation. I pick the calls and drop my phone beside the kitchen sink, with the tap on. Mom doesn’t say anything meaningful when she takes hers. And as for my strong-headed sister, Stella….. she never picks at all. I don’t know about Amarachi, and I really do not care about her. That one is another case study.
When we didn’t connect well on the phone, Sofia started to frequent our moms Cake studio every evening after she closes from work. With her little knowledge of baking, she tried to help out. But that still didn’t yield any positive results. The only one who gave her attention was Amarachi. And I guess she noticed our collective attitude real quick because she stopped coming over abruptly.
For some days, no one heard anything from her, no calls, no chat, no nothing. We were relieved. But then comes that fateful Thursday night….a day that will remain fresh in my memory 😭😭😭.
Stella and I had gone to brother Steven’s apartment to drop something with him.
Note: His house is not very far from the family house. We passed by his street everyday on our way to and fro the cake studio.
We didn’t call before the visit though. The doorbell was answered by Sofia, who happened to be home alone.
“You’re welcome, girls”. She said, hugging us excitedly.
We ignored her greeting and walked into the living room.
“Where is Steven?”. Stella asked after we were seated.
Sofia didn’t reply until she sat down on the couch beside Stella.
“Hanging out with friends. She replied, the excitement never leaving her face.
….You guys didn’t call before coming?”. She added with a chuckle.
Stella frowned at her.
“This is our brother’s house. We don’t need your permission before coming”. She said.
Sofia chuckled again.
“I’m sorry if that’s the way it sounded. I really do not mean it that way”. She apologized.
Stella sighed.
“Well, we are here to give him this”. She said, handing her the nylon.
….keep it for him. Tell him it’s from mom”. She added.
“What is in it?” Sofia asked as she examined the nylon and inhaled it.
“Hmmm now that smells so good … .Oh my God! I can’t resist the aroma. I hope you guys don’t mind”. She said.
Stella and I exchanged confused glances, and before our very eyes Sofia opened the parcel and took a bite from the cake.
That girl was so mánnerless!
“You don’t have to do that, Sofia. The cake wasn’t for you”. Stella said, her voice rising.
Sofia chuckled.
“For who? My finance’s, right? I know”. She replied, flashing her engagement ring on our faces, her mouth filled.
“You’re so disgμsting! Why would you open a parcel that is not meant for you? What kind of an adμlt are you?”. I asked, my voice trembling a bit. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya.
She turned to look at me.
“Now that’s not a nice thing to say to someone who is obviously not your age mate!”. She said. By now, the smile has left her face.
“You want my sister to respect you when you don’t even r£spect yourself! Just look at what you’re doing!”. Stella yelled at her.
Sofia hummed a smile and continued eating the cake.
“I don’t know why…. I really do not know why you guys hâte me this bád”. She muttered, still chewing on the cake.
That girl was just so crázy!😠
“Wow! You really are a smart kid. You’ve finally realized that we d0n’t like you!”. Stella said.
“I am not daft. I know when and where I’m not accepted. That was why I left the bakery for all of you”. She said.
“So what are you still doing here? Why are you still with my brother?”. Stella asked.
She chuckled.
“I don’t have any issues with your brother. Why and for whom should I leave him? You’re not going to marry him. Or are you?”. She asked, smiling mischievously.
Stella slápped her across the face. Almost immediately, she dropped the cake and retaliated with a more resounding slap.
“Oouch!”. Stella cried out in pain, holding her cheek.
I stood up immediately and held Sofia on the c0llar.
“How dare you slap my sister?”. I exclaimed, dragging her up the couch.
“Take your hands off me, you little girl”. She warned.
“And what can you do if I don’t?”. I screamed, sp!tting in her face.
She tried to push me away from her, but I held tightly onto her c0llar.
“Let go of me before I do something you won’t like”. She warned for the hundredth times.
“Do your w0rst!”. I challenged her.
As we struggled, I saw Stella stand up and walk to the door. I saw when she pulled the pole out from the curtain. But I didn’t know what to expect until I heard the clunk sound…..It was the sound of the w£apon against the girl’s skμll. Everything went still for a split second, as her grasp on me loosened slowly.
I let go of her instantly and she slumped to the floor with a loud thud……
After Sofia fell, Stella didn’t end her att@ck. She began kicking her repeatedly.
“Are you stμpid? How dare you lay your filthy hand on me? Are you mád? Get up and f¡ght! Get up and f!ght me!” She yelled. She doesn’t care what part of the body her kicks were landing, her legs, her arms, her belly,… everywhere.
It was I who first realized that something was off. Sofia was supposed to retaliate. She was expected to stand up and do something. Maybe take the rod from Stella and h!t her back. But nah. The only movement her body made was in response to Stella’s continuous kicks. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya.
“Sis, look! She is not moving”. I pointed out to her.
She stopped immediately and stared at the still b0dy before her. I could feel the tension building inside her as the rod fell off her hand and dropped noisily to the floor. She went on her knees instantly.
“Sofia, Sofia!”. She called out, tapping her gently on the shoulder.
When there was no response, the tapping became harder.
“Sofia, Sofia. Please, stop this play…stop the play and wake up!”. She cried.
Yet Sofia remained unresponsive.
Cold chills ran down my spine as I watched. Next, Stella pressed her head against her stomach. She listened for some second before slumping to the ground, her hands on her head.
“Jesu Christi!”. She exclaimed.
“What happened? What happened to her?”. I asked, my heart beating fast.
When she didn’t reply, I bent over and checked…. Sofia’s heart wasn’t b£ating at all..
I turned to face Stella.
“What? You k!lled her?”. I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
She shook her head.
“No, I didn’t keel her. I only h!t her on the head. You saw what happened. I h¡t her just once. She is not supposed to die”. She said, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I felt the tears running down my cheeks too….. steaming hot tears.
“She can’t be d£ad, right?”. I asked, hopefully.
“Sofia, please, wake up! Please, open your eyes, you can have all the cake, you can have our brother, you can have everything. Please, wake up”. I cried, pulling her to and fro.
Yet, there was no response. I quickly stood up and turned to Stella who just sat there, sobbing silently.
“Sis, let’s rush her to the hospital”. I suggested.
She sniffed before responding.
“We can’t. She isn’t br£athing anymore”. She said.
“But she can still be alive. Let the doctors confirm it”. I insisted.
“Carolina, she is d£ad! Please, allow me to think”. She pleaded.
Fear gripped my heart.
“What are you thinking? What? I hope we’re not going to jail? I don’t want to go to jail with you”. I cried.
Without another word, she jerked herself from the floor, and grabbed her purse from the couch.
“Let’s get out of here”. She said, walking towards the door.
“What? Should we leave her here? Why?”. I asked.
“Stop asking questions, Carolina. We need to get out before anyone sees us here?”. She said.
I tried to move, but something held me back.
“No, sis, we can’t…”. I was going to say something, but she didn’t let me finish. She walked back and grabbed my hand.
“Let’s get out of here”. She said, pulling me along.
“What about the neighbors? They will see us passing, and brother Steve? He will be ja!led if this b0dy is found here”. I said.
She let go of my hand and exhaled.
“Yes, you’re right. You’re right. We need to do something”. She muttered.
Then, she began to pace up and down the room. After a while, she stopped and looked at me…. seems there is a solution.
“You know what? Let’s take her body out of here”. She said.
“How?”. I asked, in confusion..
Before she could answer, the door opened, and brother Steve walked in.
“Babes!….He called out excitedly, but frowned as his gaze fell on us.
“You guys?….He said, approaching.
…..What?”. He exclaimed as he took in the sight before him.
He quickly threw his phone on the couch and rushed to Sofia.
“Baby, Babe! Sofia! Babes!”. He called out, shaking her vigorously.
When she didn’t respond, he bent over, his head placed on her chest. He listened intently.
“Jesus Christ!”. He exclaimed, as he quietly let go of her.
Before we knew what, he grábbed my skirt.
…..What did you guys do to her? What happened to my fiancee?”. He asked, his voice rising a little above normal.
“We …”. I began, but Stella cut me off.
“She.. she…she was.. she was f¡ghting us…we were, we were only…I was f!ghting back”. She stuttered. As she spoke, she was taking some steps backwards.
He left me and turned to face her.
“You were fighting my girl? In my house?. He exclaimed, trying to close in on her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry”. She cried.
“You’re sorry for what? For what exactly are you sorry? Did you know what you’ve done? You k!lled someone in my house? You k¡lled my fiancee!”. He said, trying his best to keep his voice down.
“It wasn’t intentional. We never planned to. She was…she was attácking us…”. She continued.
“Shμt up!”. He yelled at her, as he finally grabbed her, p¡nning her to the wall.
The room was silent for a while, safe for the sound of the muffled sound she made while trying to suppress her sobs. After hanging her on the air for a little while, he let go of her and she fell on the ground.
“I won’t be the one to keel you. Just get ready to face the wrath of the law”. He said.
With that, he started walking towards the door.
“Police”. I muttered under my breath.
Quickly, Stella and I ran ahead of him. And blocking him at the door, we fell on our knees in front of him, crying and pleading with him not to inform the authorities.
“We are your bl00d. Brother, please”. We cried.
“Get out of my way at once”. He exclaimed, his voice trembling slightly.
“Brother, please, don’t do this to us”. We persisted, holding tightly onto his legs.
We struggled for a long while. At one point, he slumped on the couch tiredly. We fell on him, sobbing.
The three of us wept silently for a long time before he pushed us away from him. He wiped his tears, and stood up. We stood too, our hearts pounding. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya.
He walked quietly to the door and peeked. Next, he walked back and lifted Sofia’s b0dy off the floor. Slinging it over his shoulder, he started walking out of the house. Stella and I followed behind him.
Once outside, he opened his car and la!d her in the backseat. Stella and I quickly jumped into the front seat, as we zoomed off, out of the compound, grateful that no one saw us. Or so we thought.
We drove on the main road for only a few minutes before he diverted to an unfamiliar lonely village bush path, driving through thick forest. We were worried, but we dare not question him.
After driving for 30 minutes or so, he halted in front of a clearing, with several heaps of sand at every corner. Without saying a word to us, he opened the car door and alighted. We came down too. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed we were standing on the bank of a stream, a village stream.
“What are we doing on the beach?”. I whispered to Stella.
But she had no clue either. We turned to look at brother Steve. He was standing by the back door.
“I’m sorry, Sofia. I’m not supposed to do this. But I have to”. We heard him say.
With that, he jerked the b0dy up and began to walk down the stream.
“What’s he going to do?”. I asked Stella.
But before she could open her mouth to say something something👇
“Splash!”🙀🙀🙀
That was the sound of Sofia’s b0dy falling into the flowing waters…….
“Jesus Christ”. The word escaped my lip when I realized what brother Steve had done…dμmping Sofia’s d£ad b0dy into the sea.
I felt goosebumps all over my body.
“That was crμel”. I heard Stella mutter.
But we were not given the chance to deliberate on it because the next sound we heard was that of the car engine. We quickly turned around and jumped into the front seat, just as the car was moving away.
No word was said among us until we got back to the house. (We followed him back home because we needed to pick our stuff) Immediately we got into the house, he collapsed on the floor, his back resting on the chair.
“Oh God!”. He cried out. His voice filled with agony.
Stella and exchanged confused glances, unaware of how to react. Whether to thank him for saving us or ?……
At last, we shrugged, and went ahead to pick our phones from the chair.
“We are leaving”. Stella muttered.
He didn’t say anything. He kept sobbing and rolling his head from on the chair, with his eyes closed.
“Let’s go”. Stella whispered to me.
And with that, we started walking quietly towards the door. But before we could get any close, his voice came from behind, causing us to turn.
“As the both of you are walking out of this house, just know you’re walking out of my life forever. I don’t know you, you don’t know me. We are not related in any way. And this…. He opened his eyes.
…This incident never happened”. He added.
Stella and I stared at each other and back at him. We never saw that coming.
“But…” Stella began, but he didn’t let her finish. He stopped her with a wade of the hand.
“Don’t add to my trouble. Just leave!”. He cried, his voice rising a bit.
Silently, we walked out, shutting the door quietly. And that was how our dear brother turned into a total stranger😭😭😭😭😭
*************
Since we couldn’t get a cab, we trekked, under the drizzling rain. We got home drenched. So were our gadgets.
Dad was sitting on the veranda, browsing through his phone.
“Good evening sir”. We greeted in unison.
He muttered a response without lifting his head to look at us.
That attitude hinted at the latest development…something is amidst. That also explains the reason no one has called to know why it took us long to come home.
Mom and dad used to be a loving couple until an incident occurred that almost broke our home. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya.
I was 10 years old when dad brought Amarachi home one night, and she was introduced to me as a younger sister. I had no choice but to accept her without asking questions. It was years later that I learnt the full gist👇
In his quest to get another male child, dad had secretly married a younger woman from the school he worked as a non academic staff member. Every adult member of the family was aware except mom. As fate may have it, the lady didn’t give him the male child he desired. After giving birth to her baby girl a year after their secret marriage, she couldn’t conceive again. They kept trying but unfortunately, she di£d during a fibroid operation. That was when he came clean. Mom was initially furious, but ultimately had no choice. She opened the door. And that was how Amarachi became a part of the family. So in total, dad has four daughters and a son. Amarachi was seven years old then.
Though Mum is said to have forgiven dad a long time ago, they still have occasional f¡ghts.
So y’all have seen my reason for háting on that girl?🤷 She didn’t only take away my position as the last born of the house, she also took the peace and love that once existed in the household.
*****************************************
Mom was sitting alone in the parlor, her wrapper draped loosely around her. Unlike dad, she didn’t acknowledge our greetings, though her gaze was fixed on us with a mixture of sadness and anger. Normally, we would have gone to her to ask what was wrong, to try and ease her concerns. But that night was different. All we needed at the moment was to take a cold bath to ease the tension.
Amarachi was lying on the bed, her face buried in a novel. She looked up as I entered(we shåred a room).
“Hey! you guys have been out for a long time. I was worried”. She said.
I didn’t talk to her. Instead I went ahead to pull my wet clothes.
“Mom and dad were fighting…”. She paused, her eyes darting all over.
I knew she was anticipating me to lash out at her, to remind her how she and her l00se mother were the source of our family’s problems. But I just kept calm. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya.
She was surprised by my unusual silence, and she didn’t hide it.
“You are not saying anything, Huh?”. She asked.
……What is wrong? Did anyone di£? Or someone pμnched you on the mouth?”. She added when I still didn’t speak.
Needless to say, I still didn’t talk to her. I picked up my hairnet and headed into the shower. For hours, I soaked myself in the bathtub, sobbing as memories of the mμrder scene filled my mind. By the time I came out, she had dozed off.
For months, the image haunted me. Every time I closed my eyes, the last scene before she died kept flashing back. Her lif£less body, the stream, the eerie surroundings, everything … .I’d often wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.
As time went on, it began to affect my daily life. I’d avoid certain places or routes, fearing I might encounter something that would trigger the memories. Whenever I stared at the curtains in the living room, images of Stella, pulling the rod would fill my head. So as much as possible, I avoided family time in the living room entirely.
Whenever I’m at the studio,I misbehave, misinterpreting customer’s orders, ruining cake decorations and causing a m£ss here and there. Mom has tried several times to talk to me, to find out what’s wrong, but I know I can’t open up…. Stella had warned me seriously against that.
“Let this secret remain forever sealed between the two of us and Steve, bμried deep within our hearts, never to be spoken of again”.
Speaking of Stella, that one was different. She seems completely fine. She’s living her life like nothing happened, making me feel like I was going crázy.
Brother Steve avoided the family for months. Whenever Mom called him over for dinner, he always came up with one or two flimsy excuses, very much unlike him. When it was time for me to go back to school having completed my one year IT, I heard him telling mom over the phone that he hadn’t received his salary for months. I knew he was lying.
Mom shouldered all the expenses alone, and until I graduated from school, I didn’t receive a single dime from brother Steve. It was a really tough experience for me since dad only relied on pensions, and our first daughter, Adanna, was also a student then, struggling her way through law school at that time.
3 years later, NYSC took me down to the southern part of the country, and that was where I saw her……
Before I left for youth service, I had only seen brother Steve twice. Once in a supermarket, during a holiday. He walked in with a young man, picked a basket and brushed past me. I muttered a greeting, but he ignored me completely.
The second encounter was on the main road one evening when Mum and I were waiting for a taxi to take us home from the studio. As we stood by the roadside, waving down cabs, Steve drove past us and queued in the traffic. Mum noticed him and pointed him out,
“Isn’t that your brother?.
……Steven! Steven!” She called out to him multiple times, but he didn’t even look our way.
Before she could get any closer, the traffic started moving, and he sped away instantly. She assumed he hadn’t seen us, but I knew better.
Around that period, I was also dealing with the aftermath of a painful br£akup. I had been dating a guy from Benin for over a year, and I thought things were serious between us. But I later discovered he had gotten another girl pregnant and eventually married her without even bothering to tell me. To make matters worse, he had convinced me to borrow a large sum of money from someone, promising to pay it back within a month. When the month passed, he refused to pay back the loan, the lender was áfter my life.
Somehow, Amarachi learnt about the whole saga, and broke the news to my parents.
Although they quickly intervened and found way to clear my debts, they couldn’t hide their disappointments. Every single mistake I made always comes with constant taunting from mom, reminding me of how my age mates were busy getting married and making babies while I was busy borrowing money and sponsoring people’s marriages. It was another tough period of my life.
***********************
So, when my NYSC call-up letter arrived, it came as a welcome relief – a chance to start anew and put some distance between me and the painful reminders of my past. I even plan on getting a permanent job over there after service and be free from family brouhaha.
It was there that I met Ekemili. She isn’t a corper though. A wonderful lady from the church I attended. Despite our crossing paths randomly, we quickly realized we have a lot in common and it didn’t take long for us to start spending time together. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya.
She lives in town with her parents and they are good people. They accepted me as one of their own. As a result, I spent most of my weekends with them.
One Friday evening, I walked in on my friend and a couple of other girls giggling about an upcoming event. They were so engrossed in the g0ssip that they barely noticed my presence.
“That girl is so lucky!”. One of the girls admitted.
“See, if my future husband is not like this, make him just dey his own, I’m better off single”. The second girl said, and the others laughed.
“What’s going on here?”. I asked.
“My friend is getting married next month”. Ekemili announced.
“Which friend is it that I don’t know about?”. I asked, sitting on the space beside her.
“Yeah, you won’t know her. She had been out of town for a while now. Her name is Ese”. She said.
“Wow! Congratulations to her”. I muttered.
“Not just that! The three of us are chosen among her asoebi”. She added.
“Wow!”. I smiled.
“And we are not spending a dime for all the accessories”. The other girl chipped in excitedly
”Are you serious?”. I asked, mouth agape.
“Yeah. She just sent a message this evening that we should forward our shoe sizes and clothes measurements to her”. Ekemili nodded.
“Wow! Her husband must be rich then”. I noted.
“Rich is an understatement. He is wealthy! He is swimming in Money. His father is a prominent politician in Uyo here”. The second girl said.
“You girls are so lucky. I’m jeal0us”. I said.
“You can say that again”.
“Please, whenever it it, don’t forget to bring my cake”. I said.
Ekemili shook her head.
“Who is this one? Abeg, you’re coming along”. She said.
I hesitate.
“Me? I don’t even know the lady in question, nor do I know her groom”. I said.
She shook her head.
“You’re my friend. Ese is my friend. We are friends, all of us. So you’re coming along as a friend too”. She said.
Long story short, I attended the wedding. (Saturdays are my day off). Ekemili and the other girls left on Thursday evening since they were among the asoebi, but before then, she had given me an invite.
“Don’t forget to come along with this”. She warned me, her hand dragging her ear for emphasis.
Due to unexpected circumstances, I missed the church service, but I arrived at the reception just in time to witness the couple’s grand entrance. The hall was packed and brightly lit, with chairs arranged around tables laden with delicious small chops. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya.
I sat down among other guests, and began enjoying the appetizers, savoring each bite with a toothpick while nodding to the soothing music playing in the background.
Then, the moment arrived…..the couple’s entrance. The groom walked in first, exuding elegance, his tall stature and handsome features captivating everyone’s attention. The women couldn’t help but gaze in admiration, and the crowd erupted in cheers. My eyes were glued on him, and a pang of longing washed over me.
How I wished…
“And here she comes!”. My d!rty imagination was interrupted by the voice of the MC.
I turned around to behold the most elegant bláck bride I have ever set my eyes on, adorned in expensive-looking ornaments, making her way towards the groom. With poise and confidence, she walked up to him and stood by his side, blowing kisses to the cheering crowd in every direction.
The room erupted in applause as people stood up to celebrate the moment. I instinctively reached for my phone to capture the scene, but my heart skipped a beat as I caught a glimpse of her face. My hand trembled, and the phone nearly slipped from my grasp.
Despite the lavish jewelry and heavy make-up, the lady standing before me was uncannily similar to Sofia…. the one I think was long gone.
“It’s not possible…Sofia is gone, bμried beyond the waves”. I quickly muttered, my eyes still fixed on her.
But then she turned her head to wave at the audience on the other side, and I caught a glimpse of the side of her neck. The mark was there, slightly concealed by her makeup, yet unmistakable
“Sofia”. I muttered softly.
Before I could process the surreal scene unfolding before me, she turned around, and our eyes locked in a moment that seemed to freeze time.
I felt my s0ul leaving my body…..
