"Tunde," she finally managed, the sound a low, tight rasp. The blood drained from her face, leaving her cold with dread. "We need to talk."
Silence followed. Then came the faint sound of laughter from the other end—uncertain, disbelieving.
"Mina? You sound... off. Are you okay?"
Her throat burned. "No, Tunde. I'm not. And I don't want to lie anymore."
A pause. A nervous chuckle. "Lie? About what? Mina, what's going on?"
She gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles whitened. "About us. About everything being fine. About me being happy."
"What about, my dear? Is it about the reception hall? Mama said she wants to book the Eko Convention Center before the politicians grab all the dates." His voice was easy, cheerful, and devastatingly unaware.
"Tunde, please stop," she interrupted, rushing her words. "I know you're busy, but this is important. It's not about the plans or the bills. It's about us."
There was a long exhale. Then, quietly, "Is this about Lagos? Or the hospital bills? You've been under pressure, I understand. I told you I will reimburse whoever paid—"
"It's not about money!" she snapped, her voice breaking. "It's about me!"
Safiya sat still on the bed, watching her sister crumble and rebuild herself between breaths. She reached out and squeezed Mina's hand with desperate force—a silent demand for courage.
Mina took a shallow breath. "It's about the wedding, Tunde. About… us. I can't marry you."
"Tunde," Mina continued, softer now, "you've always been kind. You've always done what was expected. But that's the problem. Everything with you feels… expected. Planned. There's no us in it—just what everyone else wants us to be."
The quiet returned, thick and suffocating. "Mina, I love you. My family loves you. What more could there be?"
"That's not love," she whispered. "That's comfort. And I can't marry comfort."
The silence stretched, sharp and broken. Finally, his voice came, hard and wounded. "So this is about him, isn't it? That man who's been hanging around? Adams?" His tone shifted from concern to disbelief. "This is why you sound strange. Are you still at the hospital?"
She didn't answer. The silence was confirmation enough.
"You've lost your mind," Tunde spat. "You think he loves you? A man who shows up with money and promises? Do you know what people will say? Do you know what this will do to your reputation?"
The disbelief hardened into furious certainty. "For real! Are you mad? Have you lost your mind? Mina, is this a joke? After everything our families have planned? After the money my mother has spent on the ankara already? What are you talking about?"
His use of "my mother" and "our families" instead of "us" was the final shard of ice that solidified her resolve.
"I'm talking about me," Mina said, her voice growing stronger, fueled by the necessity of the moment. "I'm talking about a choice I have to make for myself. Tunde, I respect you, but I am not in love with you. I cannot marry you."
"Not in love?" He let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. "You—a teacher, a good girl—you think love is what matters when a man is ready to take care of your entire family? You know the kind of life my name offers you! Tell me who put this nonsense in your head. Is it that man? That Adams fellow who paid your sister's bills?"
The sudden shift to Adams's name, spat out like a curse, made Mina flinch. "He has nothing to do with this—"
"Don't insult my intelligence! Of course he does! He's bought you! You are throwing away years of stability, a chance to save your family's name, for a man who bought your gratitude with hospital bills! This is shameful, Mina! You will regret this when he leaves you in the dust!"
The line went silent again—a volatile, pulsing quiet. Mina knew he was breathing heavily, his respectable world fracturing around him. Her tears had dried by then; what replaced them was a strange calm.
"Let them talk," she whispered.
"Mina—"
She ended the call. Slowly. Deliberately.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Safiya stood and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around Mina from behind. Her voice was soft but trembling. "You did the right thing."
Mina nodded, though her chest ached as if a blade had been twisted inside it. "It doesn't feel right."
"Right things rarely do," Safiya murmured.
Mina's hand, the one that held the phone, fell into her lap. She was shaking violently, but a strange, terrifying calm settled over her heart. It was done.
Safiya hugged her fiercely. "Oh, Mina. That was it. You were so brave. Don't worry, it will be just fine."
"Brave?" Mina laughed—a watery, hysterical sound. "Or a fool who has just signed a death warrant for our social standing."
"Better a fool in love than a woman suffocating in a life she hates," Safiya countered, then pulled back, her face suddenly serious. "You have to call Mama. Now. Before Tunde's people get to her. You need to control the narrative, or she will think the absolute worst."
Mina knew her sister was right. Tunde's family would not be discreet; they would use this to shame the entire household. She wiped her eyes, steeling herself for the real battle. Stepping into the hallway for privacy, she dialed.
"Mama," Mina began softly, anticipating the coming storm.
"Yes, how are you?" her mother, Hajiya Rukayya, replied, her voice distracted. "The tailor was just here. I told her to go with the lemon green for your aso-ebi—"
"Mama, please stop. Listen to me. Something important has happened." Mina took a ragged breath. "I spoke to Tunde. I… I ended the engagement."
The silence on the line this time was absolute. Not anger, but a profound, terrifying stillness.
"Say that again," her mother commanded, her voice dangerously low, stripped of all warmth.
Mina repeated the words, clearly and firmly. Hajiya Rukayya's voice finally erupted in a high, panicked wail.
"That madman? That Adams boy? The one who paid the hospital bills? You think our life is a Nollywood film? You think that is how marriage works? You have ruined us! You have shamed us before the whole community! The Elegba family! You will bring their wrath and the curse of a broken agreement upon this house!"
"He is coming to speak to you," Mina interjected, holding the phone away from her ear as her mother's voice reached a fever pitch. "He is coming tomorrow. Properly. To ask for my hand. To explain everything."
"Don't bring that stranger to my house! I will not see him! Your father would be spinning in his grave! You will call Tunde back and apologize and tell him this was a moment of weakness! You will not destroy your sister's future and your own peace for this foolishness!"
"Mama," Mina pleaded, her own tears returning, "I am choosing my own happiness. I chose him."
"Then you have chosen to walk out of my life!" her mother declared, the line going dead with a violent click.
Mina stood there, phone still pressed to her ear, the weight of her mother's rejection settling on her like a stone. She hadn't expected acceptance, but she hadn't expected banishment, either.
By dawn, the world outside had begun to stir—the call of the muezzin floating from a nearby mosque, the muffled rhythm of life returning to the streets. Mina hadn't slept. The bracelet on her wrist had grown warm against her skin, almost alive. Her phone was full of missed calls and messages—Tunde, Auntie Grace, even Mama. She didn't open a single one.
A car horn sounded once. She looked up. Adams stood beside his black SUV, his eyes tired but soft. He didn't say anything at first. He only looked at her—searching, almost afraid.
She took a step forward. "I told him. It's done," she said, her voice flat. "I broke it off with Tunde. And my mother… she's furious. She won't see you. She basically disowned me."
He inhaled sharply. His dark eyes never left hers. He reached out, taking her hands and holding them tight, his warmth a familiar comfort.
"I know the price you just paid for me, Mina," he said quietly. "And I know what that means in your culture. But a choice made out of love is never a mistake. It is a sacrifice. I will not let you be disowned."
"How can you stop it?" Mina asked, despair creeping in. "You don't know my family. You don't know how deep this goes."
"Then I will learn," he vowed. He released her hands and took a step back, his face settling into the reverent look she remembered from his proposal. "Today, I am not coming alone. I am bringing my own people—family, elders—and we are going to your house. We will bring honesty and genuineness; we will speak with respect, and we will wait. If your mother refuses us, we will return again and again until she finds me worthy of you. We will show her, and everyone else, that I am not buying a wife; I am claiming the woman who is my home. We will face the scorn, the shame, and the rejection together. I will not have you stand alone."
He stepped closer again, lifting the silver bracelet on her wrist with a gentle touch. "Let me make this vow. We will be married, Mina. Not because of destiny, but because of the fight we will win, side by side. Love, when it is real, overcomes all obstacles."
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Adams closed the distance, his hand resting over hers. "I don't deserve you," he murmured.
"Then deserve me," she said, her eyes steady. "We'll learn together."
He smiled—a quiet, broken kind of smile that felt like sunrise after a storm.
"I believe you," she whispered, her fear finally giving way to a profound sense of hope and allegiance.
Adams's phone rang with an unknown number. He frowned as he answered. "Hello?"
"Am I speaking to Adams?" a female voice asked, her tone harsh and demanding.
"Yes, who is this?"
"What do you want from Mina? What do you want from us? How much did you spend on her and the hospital bills? Calculate it and send the total to this number! I knew it was all transactional!" she spat at him