THIRD PERSON POV
Engagement planning tensions — stretched over months
Planning over months did not reduce tension—it revealed personalities.
There were debates over:
Size of the traditional ceremony
Bride price list revisions
Aso-ebi colours
Who would handle the engagement MC
Whether the court wedding should be closer to or farther from September
Bukky's family leaned toward simplicity.
Akanni's family leaned toward celebration.
Meetings stretched late into the night.
Sometimes Akanni left feeling drained.
Sometimes Bukky cried quietly afterward—not from doubt, but from the weight of becoming someone's wife in public view.
Through it all, Akanni remained steady.
"September is ours," he kept saying. "Everything else is detail."
They didn't fight often.
But when they did, it was honest.
Bukky once said,
"I'm scared of being swallowed by expectations."
Akanni answered,
"I'm scared of failing everyone at once."
They learned compromise slowly.
Some traditions were shortened.
Some expectations were softened.
Some battles were simply ignored.
Love matured.
Mira stayed away from planning.
But she didn't disappear.
She sent congratulations when the date was announced.
No bitterness.
No interference.
Busayo noticed again.
"She has dignity," she said one evening.
And that closed the chapter completely.
Friday, August
DEMI — POV
After a long, exhausting day filled with meetings, paperwork, scheduling, and endless proposals, I finally retired to my room. I took a long shower, letting the warm water run over my shoulders, washing away the tension that came with leadership and responsibility. When I was done, I stretched lazily before dropping onto the bed, my body sinking into the expensive mattress.
Out of habit, I reached for my phone and opened Instagram. Most of my notifications were predictable—praise, admiration, and unsolicited advice about the low-budget, comfortable apartment project that had recently gone viral. Everyone called it a success. Investors, architects, even government officials had praised my vision.
I scrolled absentmindedly, liking a few comments, until something—someone—made me pause.
An oval-shaped face appeared on my screen.
My heart skipped.
Five years ago.
Anglican Grammar School.
Osun State.
"Bukky," I muttered under my breath.
She looked different—no, better. More radiant than when she came to serve as a corper. Her beauty had matured, refined by time and confidence. Her smile was softer, yet more assured. I clicked on her profile, my curiosity instantly turning obsessive.
Then I saw the caption.
"Can't wait to get together with the love of my life."
I scoffed, irritation curling in my chest.
So she couldn't wait anymore?
After everything we shared back then, after the promises—spoken and unspoken—she was ready to give herself to another man?
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"I promised I'd find you," I muttered angrily.
Then I swiped again.
And froze.
Bukky was posing intimately with the last person I ever wanted to see.
Akanni.
My greatest rival.
He had always been there—always in my way. Back in school, he snatched the class captain position from under my nose, reducing me to assistant. I never quite understood how he did it. He had no strong background, no visible advantage, yet somehow, luck always leaned in his direction.
They made him the baseball team captain.
And again, I was made his assistant.
It felt deliberate. Like the universe itself enjoyed mocking me.
Now, years later, seeing my first love standing beside him—smiling, glowing, choosing him—something dark stirred inside me.
I refused to lose to Akanni again.
"It seems you've continued this act, Akanni," I said coldly to the empty room. "But I won't let you win this time."
I sat up, resolve hardening.
"Whatever it takes to win you back, Bukky, I'll go the extra length."