Gradually scrolling past a couple of pictures, one grabs his attention, and he's amazed at the detailing of the suit, so he proceeds to find out the designer and stumbles upon the page.
He likes a few pictures and comments on one of them which happens to be his best. Makes screenshots of a couple more just in case he'd need them for style inspiration with his tailor, Okafor. He was actually searching for style inspiration.
Uchendu the man in question, 6ft 4 Built to perfection, with the complexion between a cross of dark chocolate mixed with caramel. The glow is present. His presence ever so overwhelming with the mannerisms and charisma of an enlightened ruler yet so playful with that boyish air around him, piercing eyes, full brows and the most beautiful set of teeth, one dimple on his left cheek and full lips, the neatest full beard and a hairline far from receding. Definitely a killer in the looks department.
Njideka’s husband owns a famous bridal line, and men'swear brand which is his primary source of income with which he can afford to easily give his wife son and daughter a comfortable life. He's the talented one! A magician with the sewing machine, through his creations he gets people constantly asking 'is this a Nigerian brand?'
Njideka on the other hand, slender, light skinned, donning such lengthy curly hair, the kind considered 'good hair' with the most intriguing figure, you see...she's not doing much in the bust or rear area, but her figure leaves both men and women ogling. Soft spoken and classy just like a princess, with the purest and most angel like facial features, she graduated with a Summa Cum Laude from one of them Ivy League universities...an embodiment of beauty and brains...herself and her husband got married in 1990 and shortly after they gave birth to their daughter chizaram who is 24, and the replica of her mother with a tinge of her father. 5 years later Akubundu came along; he is his father!you know the 'my papa born me' situation.
It's a rainy Wednesday afternoon, and Njideka is just about to exit the neighbourhood gym which is surprisingly filled with the best of the best gym materials. It's her free week, so she decides to spend some time making her mermaid body look even better. On stepping out of her home, it skipped her mind to check the weather forecast only to be done and see the rain come pouring down. She will have to walk to her car anyway, so she does that and her hair frizzes right up as expected, she gets into her Porsche Panamera and drives off.
Sounds of people exhaling with relief fill the air and doors are being shut one after the other in a hasty almost manner less fashion with feet shuffling in the most non-melodious way, yes! It's Friday! Where the average man cannot wait to leave the throngs of the office, move far away from it as possible. The Lagos traffic intensifies as the beat 99.9fm radio works it's magic and tries to make the traffic less stressful to deal with, it's hitting 5 pm and the traffic jam gets even more annoying. Hawkers are hustling and trying to shove their goods down your window, that is if it's open, you know! Their drive is quite admirable.
Most children are on their way back from school and or already home clutching to the remote control because it's a Friday and they get to watch unlimited television, oh! The thrill of having to stay up as late as 2 am. That Friday night high, compared to that of the adults, the nightlife shenanigans, loud music and alcohol, and how can I forget! A delectable mix of friends and foes. Oh, and a little weed here and there. It doesn't hurt.
Njideka and Uchendu step into the premises at about the same time! A minute after Madam drives in; the gate is opened once more for the oga as they both alight from their powerful automobiles. Embracing each other. At this point, the rain has come to a complete halt.
They both scurry into the house and find their way to the bathroom. 2 seconds in Njideka steps out of her gym garments and tosses them right in the washer. Of course, why wouldn't they have a washer in the bathroom? She struts around the bathroom having a look around for her weekend bath series. She's accustomed to that lifestyle of having bath essentials for everyday of the week. She's quite a bourgeoisie.
While her beautiful self catwalks around browsing her grandeur collection, she stumbles upon Chizaram's journal she gave her as a gift one of those times she had travelled for the weekend to Paris and wondered what it was doing there in the very first place. And so, curious as a cat she opens it, and it reads
"Playing with my thumb and pinky fingers, I would circle round them for minutes at a stretch focusing solely on them Everything else in the background would be a blur, and I'd zone out. I'd be transported to a state of numbness.
Other times the walls would start caving in, and I'd watch myself struggle even if I were in the biggest room in the house, and out of nowhere, the tears would come pouring.
I would remember the things that made our friendship stand out.
I would hear footsteps and quickly pick up the wet tissues scattered around me to dab my eyes. They were cold, cold with my tears. (Tears of agony mixed with frustration and despair). And I'd dab quickly only to be left with chills going down my spine from how cold the tissues were. Then I'd start again, this time even worse than I did seconds ago, it kept coming like waves of contractions. I'd never been pregnant before but I dealt with endometriosis, and the pain came with jabs hitting me on my sides. I had not cried since being in the hospital. Today was different. My tears would blur my vision; it had become a normal thing. I read somewhere that if one cried too much, they were at a risk of losing their eyesight.
I wondered why men would seek me out for my magic and never follow through. It happened back to back. It was a pattern. My so called friends built a "never going to work out in a relationship" chair just for me and glued my behind to that chair. Nit picked at my insecurities, bit me and blew cool air so I wouldn't know where the bites came from. Pretended to care in my face, did the opposite when I turned my back. Humans, so foolish. Indeed the heart of man is very wicked." Njideka was so engrossed in the soul-shattering words that her daughter had written that she didn't hear when Chizaram entered and had started calling "mummy!" "Mummy! What are you doing? Give me back my journal."
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