Planning a wedding with Dami was like organizing a political revolution. His mother wanted traditional. Her mother wanted lace and cake taller than a three-story building.
Teni wanted tacos.
They sat down with their families and a team of four wedding planners.
"My son must wear Igbo royal attire," Dami's mother declared.
"He will wear agbada, and he will like it," said Teni's mom, waving a spoon.
"What about a fusion wedding?" Dami suggested weakly.
Teni sighed. "Only if the baby doesn't decide to be born mid-ceremony."
The planners stared at each other like they were about to quit.
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