I stared into his eyes as he spoke. The sweet nonsense coming out of his mouth was making the butterflies in my stomach flutter, and maybe I was enjoying it a little too much. Then he rubbed my palms and said in that calm, low tone, “Kachi, I love you with reckless abandon. And if meeting your friends, family, or even your pastor will prove that I’m for you, I go nowhere.”
For a moment, everything around us disappeared. Waiters moved, people laughed, but it felt like it was just the two of us. His hands in mine. His eyes holding me still. And even though something inside me whispered, *pause, breathe,* I didn’t listen. I smiled, nodded, and fell in love completely.
That love that reckless kind stayed with me for a while. Even after both our families met, even after he called me “my wife.” It all felt so right until the day everything changed.
We were arguing over the remote he wanted football, I wanted to finish my show. We were at his parents’ house because we’d agreed not to stay alone. My “love of a lifetime” had promised celibacy, proposed after five months, and we were already planning the wedding.
Then, out of nowhere, he slapped me.
“Jesus!”
“Nkem! No, no, I didn’t mean to,” he stammered, falling to his knees. “I thought it was the remote I was dragging!” He was shaking, eyes wide. “May God kill me if I ever intentionally raise my hand to you.”
Before I could say anything, his mother walked in with a pot of soup. “*Chukwu aju!* Who is God killing?” she shouted.
He quickly explained, and she came to me smiling, “*O si na o mistake, nne m.*” She helped me sit while he stood there, looking broken. But something had already cracked inside me. A piece of the butterflies died that day.
The rest of them died two days before our white wedding on the night of our traditional marriage.
I cried the whole drive to the hotel. It hit me that I was married now and my parents were far away. He ignored me the entire time. When we got to the hotel, I showered, lay down, and was still sobbing when he came close, trying to kiss and touch me.
“Babe, can we not?” I begged. “I cried all through the ride, and you didn’t even ask why.”
He sighed. “You’re always crying. Always playing the victim. You should be thanking me for taking you away from that cursed family.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
He went on, voice sharp now. “That family of yours has nothing going for it. Look at your brother broke and still chasing people’s money. Your mum, forming prayer warrior when her own life is falling apart. Your dad? Always quiet, always broke. Tell me, which of them even has sense? I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
I could barely breathe. “Please stop,” I said softly. “Don’t talk about my family that way.”
He laughed. “You’re acting like your family is special. Be grateful someone like me is marrying into that mess.”
That was when I tried to stand up, but he pushed me back. “Are you okay?” I asked, but his eyes were cold.
Then came another slap harder than the first. My vision blurred. I tried to push him off, to defend myself, but he grabbed my wrist. His anger was something I’d never seen before dark, consuming. Every time I moved, he hit harder. Every time I cried out, he yelled louder.
At some point, I just stopped. My body gave up, but my mind stayed wide awake trapped. I could hear him breathing heavily, still shouting things I could no longer make sense of. My heart was pounding, my ears ringing, but I didn’t fight anymore.
And just like that, the room fell silent.
He froze, realizing what he’d done. Then came the tears.
“Nkem, I’m sorry,” he said, shaking. “I love you. You just make me angry sometimes. I didn’t mean to. I was only correcting you.”
I didn’t answer. I was too tired to speak, too numb to cry. I stood up slowly, moved away from him, and walked out of that room. Out of the hotel. Out of the marriage.
I didn’t care that I was barefoot, or that my nightwear was soaked with tears. I just needed to go home. I had no phone, no purse just me.
It took almost an hour before a kind stranger in a *keke* agreed to drop me near my street. The harmattan breeze hit my face as we passed familiar roads. My body ached in places I didn’t want to think about. I let the tears fall quietly this time.
The next day, he came begging. Then came the guilt trips, the blackmail, the calls from his family. But my parents stood firm. They returned the bride price, refunded every naira he spent, and my younger sister went to collect my phone and purse.
The white wedding was cancelled. That pain, we all carried together.
Before he finally left, he sent a text:
“I love you, Kachi. With reckless abandon.”
But this time, nothing inside me moved. The butterflies were gone buried with the girl who once believed him.
©Devera
@yourpenship
