TIESCHAPTER 9Omolara didn’t know what to do. Her mind whirled in confusion, guilt seeping into every corner of her thoughts. It felt as if she were stealing someone else’s husband—no, she was stealing someone else's husband. But why did it feel so wrong when Emenike had been hers first? Before Chioma ever existed in their world, Emenike was hers. Yet now, it seemed like everything was slipping out of her control, out of her hands, no matter how tightly she tried to hold on. The weight of it all sank her to the floor, her hands trembling as they cradled her belly. The thought of the child inside her, the future she envisioned, burned in her chest.
"I’ll fight for us," she whispered, her voice cracked but determined. Her palm rested protectively on her stomach, the one thing anchoring her in this storm of betrayal and heartache. "That’s a promise mummy is making."
"Are you mad?!" Nne Adaego’s voice rang sharp and biting, her eyes blazing with accusation. "Emenike, I’m asking you a question—are you mad?" The fury that rippled through her words was palpable, crackling in the air between them."My son is not mad. I did not give birth to a mad child. Adaego, warn yourself!" Nne Agnes shot back, her voice steady, but underneath, a tremor of rising rage could be sensed. The tension in the room was thick, oppressive. Nne Adaego was seated, rigid and seething, while Chioma’s face was pale, her eyes darting between the women, her own emotions simmering beneath the surface. Nne Agnes sat with an unnerving calm, a mother guarding her pride and her son. It felt eerily reminiscent of the day they had gathered to discuss Dike’s inheritance—the day everything had started to crumble.
"Of course, you’ll side with him," Nne Adaego spat, her voice laced with venom. "Like mother, like son. Husband snatcher!"Nne Agnes erupted into laughter, sharp and mocking, stunning everyone in the room. Her eyes glinted dangerously as she spoke."See, pot calling kettle black!" she hissed. "Didn’t you seduce your way into Ezinne’s—the first wife of the family’s—home? Do you really think we don’t know the story? When women whose husbands were snatched are called to come forward, you too will be there! Nonsense!"
Nne Adaego’s face flushed with fury, her heart pounding so hard it echoed in her ears. Every fiber of her being wanted to lash out, but her voice shook as she said, "Agnes, you better tell your son to stop this madness. I will not allow him to bring a strange woman into my son’s home!" Her voice quivered with both fear and anger, a desperate attempt to maintain control.
Nne Agnes smirked, eyes cold and merciless. "I’ve always said it—you don’t have sense at all. Emenike inherited this house from Dike, as well as this thing called Chioma. My son has every right to marry as many wives as he pleases, and he’ll bring them into this very house." Her voice was measured but laden with condescension."Over my dead body!" Nne Adaego screamed, jumping to her feet, her entire body trembling with fury."Then be ready to die!" Nne Agnes sneered, her voice like ice. "Start digging your grave, because this marriage has already happened. My first grandchild cannot be born outside his father’s home."The words hit Chioma like a slap. She turned to face Nne Agnes, her face frozen in shock, the realization slowly sinking in. Could it be true? Omolara… carrying Emenike’s child?
"Yes, Omolara is carrying my grandchild," Nne Agnes said, her voice swelling with pride, cutting through the room like a knife.
Chioma collapsed onto the floor, her legs giving way as a wave of helplessness washed over her. Tears welled in her eyes, but this time, they weren’t just for Emenike. They were for herself—for everything she was losing, for everything she had already lost.
"Am I not woman enough?" she whispered into the emptiness of the room, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own breaking heart. Her chest felt tight, as if the air itself had turned against her, refusing to let her breathe. She stood up shakily, her legs weak beneath her, and moved to the mirror. Her reflection stared back, hollow and filled with the pain of betrayal. Her gaze drifted to the photo of her late husband, the man she had loved and lost.
Her lip quivered, but then something in her hardened. Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at herself in the mirror. A new resolve began to take root, cold and fierce. Her lips twisted into a bitter, almost cruel smile.
"I lost him the first time," she muttered, her voice growing stronger with each word. "But I won’t make that mistake again." She lifted her chin, defiance blazing in her eyes. "If I can’t have Emenike, then no one else will."