The morning did not come with the gentle chirping of birds or the soft morning sun filtering through the thatch roof. No, it came with a blinding flash of heat and a sharp, ringing pain that rattled Osaro's teeth.
A heavy, resounding slap cracked across her face, catching her completely off guard from sleep.
"Oria!!" Osaro gasped, her hand flying instinctively to her burning cheek. Her eyes instantly brimmed with tears as she looked up, blinking through the blur at the towering, furious figure of her husband. He was standing over the bamboo mat, his chest heaving under his woven wrapper, his face contorted with pure disgust.
"How dare you spend the night in my chamber?" he barked, his voice slicing through the morning quiet like a sharp cutlass. "Did your parents teach you no manners at all? Didn't your mother explain to you that a woman only stays with her husband when he calls for her? I needed you yesterday, and you came. Who gave you the audacity to lag behind in my room after performing your duties as a wife?"
Osaro shrunk back against the mud wall, her heart hammering wildly against her bruised ribs. The agony of the night before was still a fresh fire in her veins, and now this psychological beating felt like heavy stones crushing her chest.
He sneered down at her, looking at her as if she were a piece of worthless dirt beneath his leather sandals. "You cheap commodity."
"Ahh, my husband... I am sorry... Iwo..." Osaro wept, her voice cracking into a pitiful tremble. She tucked her chin into her chest, completely unable to face his piercing gaze.
"Sorry for yourself!" he snapped, entirely unmoved by her tears. "No wonder your parents married you off so quickly. They obviously saw that you were of no good and of no use to them. They just packaged their liability and passed it to me."
At this point, Osaro's chest tightened, and she could only sob silently, the hot tears spilling freely down her face, mixing with the cold sweat of fear. Knowing that talking back or trying to explain would only invite another heavy blow, she quietly gathered her aching limbs. She reached for her wrapper, tying it tightly around her broken body as she made a slow, painful move to leave her husband's inner room. Every single joint screamed in protest; the sickness from the previous day still lived heavily in her blood, making her head spin with dizziness.
"Call Adanna for me on your way out," he ordered coldly, turning his back on her as if she were a common housemaid who had finished her shift.
Osaro did not answer. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, stepping carefully over the threshold. Behind her, she heard him settle heavily down onto his carved wooden throne, muttering to himself, "Young girls of nowadays... mannerless and ungrateful. But sweet in a way."
Osaro practically crawled back to the safety of her own small room. The compound was already bubbling with the early morning murmurs of the co-wives. Forcing her trembling legs to move, she hurriedly took her bath, letting the cold water wash away the physical reminders of the night, though she knew nothing could wash away the stain on her mind.
When she came out into the central courtyard, the women were already gathered, surrounded by large basins of white beans, mounds of yam tubers, and heavy iron pots. The air was thick with the sharp smell of burning firewood. Osaro's body throbbed with deep pain, making every small movement an exercise in endurance.
Seeing Mama Adanna sorting through ingredients near the hearth, Osaro approached her with slow, measured steps. "Mama Adanna, where is Adanna? Her father is calling for her," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the crackle of the fire.
As soon as she passed the message, Osaro carefully, agonizingly lowered herself onto a woven mat. The pain in her lower abdomen was so sharp she had to catch her breath, biting her lower lip to keep from screaming out.
Oge, who was sitting across from her peeling yams, noticed the unnatural, stiff way Osaro had sat down. She caught Osaro's eye for a brief second. Oge couldn't say a word out loud, not in this compound where walls had ears and eyes but she could only shake her head in deep, helpless pity.
"Osaro! Osaro!! Osaro!!!"
A sharp, grating voice suddenly shrilled across the yard, shattering the heavy silence. Osaro jolted out of her thoughts, her heart leaping into her throat.
"Yes, yes, ma. I am here," she answered quickly, straightening her posture.
Her husband's aunt stepped into the courtyard, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowed in immediate judgment. "Always absent-minded! Look at her! I don't even know your use in this Okhizu family."
"I'm sorry, ma," Osaro whispered, keeping her eyes firmly on the dirt floor. "It is just that... I am not feeling too strong today, and I really need some rest."
Oge, unable to watch her friend being torn down, chimed in protectively, "Osaro, I told you not to come out before now. You should be inside resting."
"But I have to..." Osaro mumbled, knowing the consequences if the master of the house labeled her as a lazy wife.
"Of course she has to come out!" the aunt cut in loudly, clapping her hands mockingly. "You are always lazing about, doing absolutely nothing. You are young in years, but you are old and slow when it comes to hard work. Even to satisfy your husband is a problem for you. What a shame!"
A suffocating, heavy silence fell over the courtyard. Mama Adanna, Amina, and Oge all averted their eyes, keeping their heads down and focusing intensely on the food they were prepping. They wanted to defend the young girl, but they knew that raising their voices against an elder would only bring a mountain of trouble down upon their own heads. Survival in this house meant knowing when to keep your mouth shut.
"I'm sorry, ma. I will work hard from now on," Osaro said quietly, swallowing the bitter lump of humiliation in her throat. To prove her compliance, she reached into a basin, gathered a handful of beans, and passed them to Mama Adanna, her hands shaking slightly as she did.
As the sun climbed to its peak, the quiet of the compound was completely swallowed by celebration. From the village square, the deep, vibrating thud of the heavy ema drums began to roll out. The bronze bells and gongs clinked rhythmically, gourds rattled, and the sound of heavy clapping and traditional Edo chanting echoed through the trees. The Ege (Yam Festival) had officially begun.
Because this was Osaro's very first festival since being married into the Okhizu house, tradition demanded that she be displayed as a symbol of the family's pride, respect, and wealth.
The older village women who had come to help with the preparations gathered around her in Oge's room. They rubbed her skin with scented oils, trying to mask the paleness of her exhaustion. Then, they began to dress her up. True to Edo royalty and pride, heavy, polished coral beads (ivie) were hung in thick layers around her neck, and beautiful beaded strands were carefully arranged in her hair. In the eyes of the village, she looked like an Edo queen, a prized, beautifully blessed bride.
But something was fundamentally wrong with Osaro. Her inner light was entirely gone; she was just a hollow shell. No matter how hard she tried to force a smile onto her face for the sake of peace, the effort failed completely. The corners of her mouth just wouldn't stay up.
"Osaro, you have to smile now," Oge urged gently, kneeling in front of her to adjust her wrappers. The other village women nodded in agreement, murmuring that a frowning bride would only bring bad luck to the household's harvest.
"It is your first Ege festival in this family, and I won't let you frown," Oge said, her eyes pleading with Osaro to just play the part for today. To break the heavy, somber mood in the room, Oge clapped her hands and began to sway her hips, dancing playfully to the heavy drumbeats thumping from the main compound.
Seeing how much Oge was trying to lift her spirits, Osaro realized she had no other choice. She took a deep breath, plastered a wide, artificial smile onto her face, and stood up to join them. But the smile was dead. It was a mere mask, entirely fake, failing to touch the deep sorrow pooling in her dark eyes.
As they led her out into the bright, roaring noise of the festival, the world around her became a blur of spinning colors, dancing bodies, and intoxicating music. But Osaro's mind was miles away.
As she swayed mechanically to the rhythm of the ema, all she could think about was her mother's warm embrace, the terrifying memory of Omege, and a desperate, quiet longing that burnt in the corners of her heart: how to escape and go to school. She wanted an education. She wanted books, a uniform, a desk, a life where she was valued for her mind, not used for her body. But even as the dream flared up inside her, a dark, realistic voice in her mind whispered that such a beautiful thing might never, ever be possible in this prison.