~ EIGHTY-ONE ~
~ EIGHTY-ONE ~
"I swear, if Chuma doesn’t stop acting like this car is a Ferrari, I’m switching places with him!”
Chelsea’s voice rang out over the sound of Burna Boy blaring from the car speakers. They were barely an hour out of Port Harcourt, and already, the chaos had begun.
Chuma, behind the wheel of Chelsea’s sleek black Toyota Corolla, turned his head with a smirk. “Baby, I’m just giving your car the road trip experience of its life. This machine was born for the open road.”
“You’re doing 120 on a road that has more potholes than tarmac!” Zahra exclaimed from the backseat, gripping the handle above the door like her life depended on it.
“You know,” Aiden added lazily from beside her, “I always thought I’d die in a heroic way—maybe skydiving or saving someone from drowning. But no. Turns out it’ll be Chuma’s reckless love for adventure that ends me.”
“Oh please,” Chuma said, swerving to dodge a pothole as the car briefly lurched. “You’re all dramatic. The real problem is you all packed like we’re moving to Enugu permanently. This boot is full.”
“You told us to pack for anything,” Chelsea shot back, her braids bouncing as she turned to glare at him. “Your girlfriend even brought three pairs of heels for a traditional wedding.”
“And two wigs,” Zahra added with a deadpan face.
“You don’t understand,” Chelsea said, pointing her thumb at herself. “We’re not just guests. We’re part of Kaima’s crew. I have to serve looks that will make people stop eating and ask who her friend is.”
“Your priorities are fascinating,” Aiden muttered, shaking his head with a grin.
They cruised past Elele, a small breeze blowing in through the half-open windows. The air was warm, peppered with the faint smell of roasting corn from roadside sellers. The car buzzed with energy—music shifting from Afrobeat to old-school Nigerian pop, their voices rising and falling with jokes, stories, and outrageous tales from campus.
“You guys remember that lecturer in pharmacognosy who used to sleep during his own classes?” Chuma asked.
Chelsea snorted. “Professor Njoku! That man could enter REM sleep mid-slide!”
“I once filmed him dozing off,” Zahra said, pulling out her phone. “Look. I still have it!”
Aiden leaned in to watch, laughing. “Kaima needs to see this. She always thought we were lying.”
Just then, a rumble from the car made everyone freeze.
“Chuma,” Chelsea said slowly, “tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.”
Chuma grimaced. “Okay. So maybe we hit a speed bump just now.”
“That wasn’t a speed bump. That was a small hill,” Zahra deadpanned.
“I think we should stop for fuel,” Aiden said, glancing at the nearly empty tank.
“Chuma, why didn’t you get fuel before we left?” Chelsea asked, exasperated.
“I was going to, but someone insisted we stop at that fancy bakery for meat pie first.”
Zahra looked around innocently. “They had coconut rolls. Priorities.”
Eventually, they pulled over at a filling station just past Owerri. While Chuma handled the fuel, Zahra and Aiden danced ridiculously to the music still playing from the car, drawing amused looks from a few passengers in a nearby bus. Chelsea pretended to be annoyed but secretly recorded it on her phone, already imagining the hilarious caption she’d add later on Instagram.
They resumed their journey soon after, laughter never really leaving the car. Conversations drifted from Kaima’s family to who might cry at the wedding.
“Zahra,” Chelsea said from the front, turning halfway to glance at her. “Be honest. If Aiden proposes at the wedding, will you say yes on the spot or make us wait for you to act shocked for fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll say yes after fainting theatrically,” Zahra replied without missing a beat. “That way it trends.”
Aiden coughed. “Who said anything about proposing?”
Everyone went quiet for a second, before bursting into laughter.
By the time they reached the Enugu city sign, the sun had begun its descent, casting a golden hue over the landscape. The familiar skyline—low hills, rust-red rooftops, and the gently winding roads of the coal city—came into view. Chelsea clapped her hands in excitement, and Zahra let out a loud cheer.
“We made it!” she shouted, sticking her head briefly out the window.
“Alive and well,” Aiden added, stretching his legs. “Miracle.”
Chuma grinned smugly. “Y’all doubted me. But who delivered? The pilot, that’s who.”
Chelsea laughed. “I’m driving us back, pilot. You’ve had your moment.”
They finally pulled into the Ifedi compound just as lanterns were being hung along the fence. The air smelled of freshly mowed grass, wood smoke, and celebration.
As they parked and tumbled out of the car, Kaima appeared at the entrance, arms wide, laughter in her eyes.
“You guys are late,” she teased.
Chuma pointed dramatically at the Corolla. “Blame the coconut rolls!”
“Long story,” Chelsea said, hugging her tightly.
“Best kind,” Kaima replied, already leading them inside.
And just like that, the circle was complete again—together, loud, full of life, and ready for what the days ahead would bring.
\----
The Ifedi compound was buzzing that night in a way it hadn’t in years — not since Ifenna’s wedding nearly a decade ago. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the open courtyard, casting a warm golden glow over the people gathered beneath them. Laughter floated into the evening air like music, mixing with the low beat of Afrobeats playing in the background from a Bluetooth speaker hidden among the potted plants near the veranda.
In the center of it all sat Adaora, radiant in a simple two-piece loungewear set, her long braids tumbling freely down her back, and her face glowing even without makeup. A sash reading “BRIDE TO BE” was slung across her shoulder, pinned playfully to her top with a giant safety pin.
“Who even gave you that sash?” she asked with a laugh, turning to Kaima who was lounging beside her on a mat laid out on the grass, holding a steaming plate of grilled chicken.
“Chelsea,” Kaima said, mouth full. “Said you needed to look the part.”
“And wait—where’s the bride crown?” Zahra called out, emerging from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and four glasses.
“Let me rest!” Ada groaned, but she was smiling. “You people have turned this into something else!”
“You’re getting married in the morning,” Chelsea said, plopping down beside her, “and you expect us to act calm? Babe, this is war.”
“Joyful war,” Chuma added from the far side where the guys were gathered, slicing suya and tossing strips onto waiting plates. “We’re sending you off to the land of marital taxes and joint bank accounts. You think we won’t celebrate well?”
The entire group laughed.
Aiden lifted his bottle. “To the last night of freedom!”
Dare, sitting casually beside him with a knowing grin, chuckled. “You mean her last night of freedom. I’ve been locked in for a while now.”
Everyone whistled and cheered. Ada covered her face, shaking her head.
“You see my life?” she muttered to no one in particular. “This man will embarrass me in public.”
Dare leaned forward and said loud enough for only her and Kaima to hear, “Wait till the reception, love.”
Ada’s eyes widened, then she laughed and shoved his arm. “Behave, oh.”
They all sat in small circles — Ada’s cousins, friends from university, family friends, her siblings, and their partners. The backyard had been transformed into a small night picnic party with woven mats, cushions, fairy lights, bowls of chinchin, trays of puff puff, bottles of soda, wine, and platters of meat fresh from the grill.
Tochukwu, the last born, had somehow become the designated DJ, switching from Rema to Asa and then to Psquare classics. Ifenna was helping coordinate the caterers for tomorrow, but even he couldn’t resist stepping in to join the dancing when Ada’s favorite song started playing.
“Kaima,” Ada whispered, leaning closer as the music blasted around them. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
Kaima looked up at her, eyes soft with affection. “Because it’s a big day. But you’re ready, Ada. I’ve seen you with him. You love him. He adores you. You’re not walking into chaos… you’re walking into the life you prayed for.”
Ada’s eyes shimmered with tears, but she blinked them away quickly, smiling.
“I just want tomorrow to go smoothly,” she said. “No drama. No hiccups. Just joy.”
“And jollof,” Zahra added, sitting beside them. “We want joy and correct party rice.”
“And no Auntie Vera with her unsolicited wedding advice,” Chelsea said as she joined them again with two cupcakes. “Seriously, if that woman tells me to marry a banker one more time, I will scream.”
Everyone burst into laughter.
Dare's sister, Ogonna, joined the girls’ circle, her gele already tied and pinned in anticipation of tomorrow. “Don’t worry,” she said with a wicked grin. “I’ve prepared counter-comments for all the aunties. Nobody’s safe.”
Ada leaned her head against Kaima’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss this.”
“What? Being single?” Zahra teased.
“No,” she chuckled. “This… this feeling. My girls around me, family, chaos and laughter. It’s just—beautiful.”
Kaima reached for her hand. “We’ll always be here. Married or not. We’re not going anywhere.”
The night wore on — more laughter, more food, even an impromptu dance competition between Chuma and Tochukwu that had everyone howling. Someone brought out sparklers, and the courtyard shimmered with tiny gold flames as people ran in circles, laughing like children.
As the night deepened, the music softened, and the group began thinning out. Mama Ifedi came out to say a soft prayer over her daughter, her voice full of emotion. Ada cried then, just a little, holding her mother tight as everyone watched with quiet respect.
Eventually, the lights dimmed, people retreated into their rooms, and the compound went quiet. But not before Kaima gave Ada one last tight hug under the moonlight and whispered, “Tomorrow, you walk into forever. And I’ll be right there cheering you on.”
Ada hugged her tighter. “Thank you for everything.”
As they parted and everyone began filing in, Ada turned back once to look at the backyard — now quiet, the fairy lights swaying gently in the breeze. Her heart was full. Overflowing.
Tomorrow, she’d say “I do.”
But tonight, she had been surrounded by love.
And it was everything.