CHAPTER 3 - THE CHAOS THEY PRAYED AGAINST IS ME

I’ve fought lions in my dreams and woken up smiling, so explain to me why a stupid plastic card is the thing shaking me this morning.

I’ve fought lions in my dreams and woken up smiling, so explain to me why a stupid plastic card is the thing shaking me this morning.

I woke up in Victor’s house feeling like my bones had been used to pound yam. My head was heavy, my chest was heavier, and my pride? Still intact. I sat up slowly, letting the chaos of yesterday replay like a badly directed Yoruba movie. Madness everywhere. I sighed. I needed to get to work.

I pulled myself together, put my lipgloss on as usual and reached for my bag, only to realize my office access card was nowhere to be found. I froze.

My hands started moving on their own, through every zip, and nonsense in my bag. I found nothing. I tore through my tote bag, my pouch, my shoes, the floor, still nothing. God abeg. Please. Please. I stormed out of the room and walked straight into the parlour where Victor was on a video call, smiling like a village gossip with my mother, my father, and my friend, Bami.

“Victor have you…”

“Ah, Nini!” my mother cut in, “How could you embarrass us like that?!” “Nini, you slapped someone’s bride! Bride of Christ, Nini!” Bami said, laughing.

“Nini, what were you even doing there? You weren't invited, you didn’t wear asoebi, and you’re scattering wedding?” my father added.

“see you people, I’m not in the mood,” I snapped. “Has anyone seen my office access card?!” Victor said, “Maybe it’s at the hall. The wedding hall.”

I stared at him “That hall? You think I’m going back there?! Do you know what I suffered?!”

I started raining curses on everybody involved in that event. The bride. The caterers. That security man that held my waist like he was trying to lift a bag of cement. The MC who said “Calm down ladies” when a whole slap had reset my jaw.

Victor and Bami were laughing. My parents ended the call, probably to go and do family meeting about my deliverance. I grabbed my bag and went back to the hotel.

The ride was too quiet. My thoughts were all over the place. If I didn’t find that card, I’d have to beg my boss for the spare one, and that bastard had been waiting for a chance to stress me.

By the time I got to the hotel, my mood had started to change. The heat wasn’t helping. I rushed toward the hall like a crazy woman. Inside the hall was unpleasantly seen of bursted balloons, dried jollof stains, torn wrappers, and disappointed dreams. Staff were sweeping up the left over of what was once a love story. I stopped a cleaner.

“Excuse me, did anyone see a card here yesterday? Small, white, has my face on it?”

He looked me up and down. “A card?” I nodded, chest tightening. “Yes, please.” “No o, we never see any card like that.” Of course. Of fucking course.

I was about to cry or punch something, whichever came first, when I heard a voice from behind.

“Looking for this?” I turned.

And there he was. The groom. Tall, fine, standing with one hand in his pocket, the other holding up the exact card I’d been praying for. The card that could save me from the devil at my office. My brain paused.

This man, the same one whose wedding I ruined, was now holding my lifeline.

"Kindly give that to me, it’s mine. Thank you," I said stiffly, approaching him. He didn’t move. He just stood there, looking all perfect and confident and soft. He had the audacity to smile. A full, heart-melting, softening smile.

"I’ll give it to you on one condition," he said, with that same teasing voice from the wedding.

“Excuse me?” I was already tired. Tired but curious.

“Let’s be friends.” I almost choked on my own spit. I laughed. I actually laughed “Let’s get married?” I asked, mocking him.

He tilted his head. “I didn’t say that. But if you want that, why not?” See, I’m crazy, but this one might be worse. I stared at him. "Don't you have like have a wife or something?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He smirked. “Didn’t you ruin my wedding or something?” Oh. So that’s how he wanted to play it.

“Look, give me my card abeg,” I said, and moved closer towards him. He moved the card to his other hand, just out of reach. I stood, hands on my waist, looking up at this overgrown romantic menace of a man.

"See eh, you're stressing me. This is like a matter of life and death. I'd appreciate it if you handed that over to me," I snapped.

He bent slightly, smiled again. "Hm, I'd choose death, if it's with you." I blinked.

My heart skipped.

What kind of foolish, dangerous Yoruba Nollywood line was that? I should have slapped him. Instead, I just stood there like a mumu. A mumu who was starting to feel something for this married man.

Look, I know I act like a hard girl. Crazy. Unpredictable. I don't care, right? But the truth is, I love love. Soft, reckless, stupid love. Just one sweet gesture and I’m already planning the colour of what my aso-ebi will be in my head. And this man? This man could be the one and he was married. Married for goodness sake!

I sighed. This was madness.

"Okay. We can be friends," I heard myself say, like I had no home training. I disappointed myself and of course, he smiled even wider. That same sweet, annoying smile.

He handed me the card. I took it, stuffed it deep into my bag like it hadn't just been held hostage by the most dangerously fine man I’d ever met. I turned to leave.

“Hey,” he said softly behind me. “What?!” I turned sharply, irritated.

He looked at me for a few seconds, studying my face. Then he said, “Allow me take you to work.”

“No,” I snapped.

He laughed quietly. “It’ll save you time. You’re already late.” Of course he’d checked the card. He knew where I worked. Just great.

I groaned. “Fine.”

As we walked out together to his car, I couldn’t stop wondering, who the hell was he? Why did I feel like he wasn’t really married? Was it a fake wedding? Or was I just losing my mind?

He drove quietly. I could feel his eyes on me every now and then, stealing glances. I didn’t say a word, neither did he. When we got to my office, I stepped out. He did too.

“What again?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“I could come pick you up from work,” he said, like it was a totally normal offer for a man whose wedding dress code I had turned into ash.

I gave him the who send you look but somehow, somehow “Hmm. Okay,” I said slowly.

He smiled and I hated that I noticed how perfect that smile was. I felt his eyes on me as I walked into the building, lingering, watching until I couldn’t feel his presence anymore. That was such an awkward moment.

When I entered the building, everyone was stealing glances at me. Looked like they miss here. Nothing really changed. It felt work wasn't even moving, well because I wasn't around. These ones can't survive without me in this company.

“Nini,” one of the admin called to me. “Oga said when you show face , make sure you enter his office first.” oh boy.

I walked in and met Mr. Adisa, sitting there like a fat tick on the company’s neck, shuffling papers like he owned the world.

“You’re suspended,” he said, handing me a letter. “Three months. Without pay.” I stared at him.

At first, I thought maybe I didn’t hear well. “Mr. Adisa, are you joking?”

He didn’t even blink. “The company cannot afford recklessness, Nini. You walked out without notice.”

I wanted to laugh. Me? Reckless? If I was reckless, this company would’ve burned down five months ago or even earlier.

“You mean I go on one emergency break, and this is what I get?” My voice cracked, just slightly. He didn’t look up. He Didn’t care.

I felt something stir inside me. Anger? Betrayal? Maybe both. My throat tightened.

“You know what?” I hissed, eyes stinging. “I don’t fucking care.” But I did. I cared so much it hurt. I cared because I was the engine, the machine, the overachiever who never said no, who carried this whole company on her back while being gaslit by a boss who couldn’t manage a WhatsApp group.

I turned and walked out of his office, trying to keep it cool. Everyone was looking and I didn’t look back.

The moment I stepped outside, I saw him. He was still there, like he never left. He wasn’t even on his phone. Just standing and waiting.

When our eyes met, something in me just snapped. The tears came without warning. Hot, fat, stubborn tears and for once, I couldn’t hold them back. The tears came without permission. The kind that make your chest ache and your throat tighten.

I turned my head quickly and started walking in the opposite direction. Anywhere but toward him. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want to cry in front of the same man who saw me act like a possessed clown at his wedding.

But I wasn’t fast enough. He caught up with me in a few steps, slowing down beside me, quiet.

He saw I was crying. I knew because I could feel his eyes, wide, soft, not judging, but concerned. That somehow made it worse.

I’ve done stupid things. I’ve said wild things. But never in my life had I felt this type of embarrassment. Not just shame, humiliation and disappointment. The kind that makes you want to vanish.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. I stopped walking. My voice cracked as I snapped, “Nothing.” I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t.

I crossed the parking lot to the side of the road, where taxis usually passed. I hoped the universe would give me a break and let one show up immediately so I could disappear into traffic and never look back.

But he followed. “Do you want a ride?” he asked gently. I didn’t even hesitate. “No,” I snapped again.

He didn’t argue, he just nodded, still looking at me like he was trying to figure out what kind of earthquake I had survived. Then he stepped back but he didn’t leave.

I could feel him behind me. I didn’t want to look, but I could feel him. I stood there for minutes, five, maybe fifteen minutes, waiting for a cab that refused to show. A few drove by but none stopped. None even slowed.

I kept looking back. He was still there. His arms folded, watching and waiting.

Like he knew no cab was going to stop. Like he’d read the script and was just playing his part. I groaned internally.

This day could not possibly get worse. Except, it already had and was still. I had told him no. I had done the hard girl thing.

And now here I was, stranded, tear-stained, suspended, and painfully aware that this man, this married man was still standing behind me like a patient shadow.

I exhaled, wiped my face with the back of my hand, turned around slowly, and walked back toward him.

“I..” I swallowed my shame. “Can you just give me a ride home?” He didn’t smile this time. He just nodded. His face was unreadable but his eyes not cold just concerned, quiet and present.

We walked to his car in silence. I got in. Still no words.

The drive felt long. Not because of traffic but because of everything hanging in the air. The shame, the tension, the confusion, the ridiculous reality that I had ruined his wedding and now I was riding in his car, mascara ruining my face and emotionally defeated.

I stared out the window the entire ride. I just wanted the day to end.