Preordained #ProjectNigeria

35- Doomed

Nwanyieze's POV~

"Hello, how may I help you?"

Maduka doesn't step back despite the frown on my face. He stands right in front of my door, hands in his pockets, his face full of determination.

"I came to be sure you're alright."

I touch my forehead, then the side of my neck. "Temperature's fine, breathing is normal. Now go away."

Mama Uju isn't home from the trip to the beach with Adanna. It is 4pm but the heat is sweltering.

"Nwanyieze, I'm not playing here."

"Neither am I," I reply curtly. I step out of the flat and lock the door, and stuff the nylon bag I'm holding into my pocket. As Mama Uju has her own key and I expect her to be home by the time I'm done, I push my single key underneath the door.

"Where are you going to?" he asks.

Away from your handsome self and the wahala associated with you, I think. I side-step Maduka, and walk towards the stairs. I hear his footsteps behind me. At the gate, I turn angrily.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to go to the market alone."

He smiles at me. "I'm not going anywhere until you agree to sit down  and listen to me." His square jaw is set in a stubborn way, his eyes are focused on mine. With the sun shining on one side of his face, the pupils appear to be a lighter shade of brown.

I sigh. "I'm not listening to you. Whatever happened, I'd very much like to forget it and move on."

"Then why are you being hostile towards me?"

"I'm moving on without you."

"Forgive me if I sound obsessed or like a stalker, but there is absolutely no way I'm letting that happen," he says seriously.

I turn away and move out through the gate. From Shipeolu street, it's a five-minute walk to the little Shipeolu market. I move towards Elediye, the small roundabout crammed with motorcycles, tricycles and Danfo buses. While doing my shopping at Shipeolu, Maduka does not give me a moment's peace.

While bargaining with the stockfish seller, he comes to stand beside me.

"Iya, you no go sell am 700 for my baby?" He asks the middle-aged woman with a smile. This woman has refused to bring down the price of the stockfish I want from 1,000 Naira to 700 Naira.

"Ah, na your Iyawo be dis?" the woman asks, her frown easing into a smile.

Maduka looks directly into my eyes, his smile radiant. "Yes, ma. This is my Iyawo."

I blink furiously and stifle the urge to step on his shoes. The woman sells the stockfish to me at 600 Naira so graciously, you'd think she was handing me a lifetime supply of it coated in gold. I put it into my bag, thank the woman, and walk away without speaking to Maduka. When I don't feel his presence after a few steps, I look back and there he is, still at the woman's stall and laughing with her.

Within the hour, the whole market is buzzing in admiration of this man. The stalls I visit sell goods to me at low prices, wishing us well and even asking when Maduka and I are going to get married.

"Aburo, this your man is very fine oo!"

"Nne, cook the soup well for him, you hear?"

"Don't let these husband snatchers get him oo!"

"Invite me to your wedding, I have a sister that can cook the best amala ati ewedu in the whole Nigeria!"