Six months later, same fire, higher stakes. Ifediba did not tell Aderemi everything, she told him enough. "My father doesn't joke," she said, adjusting her hair in the mirror for the third time. "He believes tribes should marry tribes. Blood should stay… familiar."
Aderemi nodded, calm in a way that unsettled her. "And your mother?"
"She agrees with him," Ifediba replied. Then added, almost defensively, "But she loves me." Aderemi smiled faintly. "That will have to be enough." The Afunwa residence rose from the earth like a declaration of wealth-high walls, carved gates, quiet confidence. Old money. The kind that did not announce itself loudly because it did not need to.
As their car rolled in, Ifediba's chest tightened. "This is not too late," she said. "We can still turn back." Aderemi reached for her hand. "If I ran now, I would never forgive myself." She looked at him. For once, she said nothing. The doors opened and the temperature changed. Chief Chibuzo Afunwa sat at the head of the living room like a throne had grown around him. Broad shoulders. Sharp eyes. Silence that commanded obedience. Beside him, Mrs. Amaka Afunwa sat elegantly, lips pressed together, expression neutral but watchful, their eyes moved to Aderemi. Measured him.Dismissed him. "So," Chief Afunwa said finally, his voice low and unimpressed. "This is the young man." "Yes, Daddy," Ifediba said. Chief Afunwa's gaze did not leave Aderemi. "Stand properly." Aderemi straightened instinctively.
"What is your name?" the man asked.
"Aderemi Chukwudero Dennis Abioye, sir."
"Yoruba," Chief Afunwa said flatly. Not a question. "Yes, sir." There it was. The air hardened. Mrs. Afunwa cleared her throat. "And your people are from where?"
"My father is from Lagos State," Aderemi replied calmly. "My mother is Igbo. From Anambra." That earned him a brief glance from Mrs. Afunwa-interest flickering, then retreating. "And yet," Chief Afunwa said, leaning back, "you chose to come here."
"I chose to be honest," Aderemi said. "And respectful." Chief Afunwa laughed once.
A short, humorless sound. Moments after, dinner was served, food didn't soften the mood. "So what exactly do you do?" Mrs. Afunwa asked, cutting her meat delicately.
"I work in operations management," Aderemi replied. "I'm still building." Chief Afunwa snorted. "Building? With what foundation?"
Aderemi paused. "Character, sir."
Silence slammed down. Ifediba stiffened. "Daddy-" Chief Afunwa raised a hand. "I am talking." He turned to Aderemi. "Do you know what it means to marry my daughter?" "Yes."
"Do you know what it means to fail her? "Yes." "You think love will carry you?"
Aderemi met his eyes. "No, sir. I think responsibility will." Mrs. Afunwa studied him more closely now. "Where is your family?" she asked. "In Lagos," Aderemi said.
Chief Afunwa leaned forward. "And they sent you?" "No, sir," Aderemi said honestly. "I came because it was the right thing to do."
Ifediba closed her eyes briefly, this was going badly. Chief Afunwa set down his cutlery.
"Let me be clear," he said. "I did not raise my daughter for tribal experiments." Ifediba shot up from her seat. "Daddy!" Aderemi stood too. "With respect, sir," he said evenly, "I am not an experiment. I am a man who loves your daughter." Chief Afunwa's eyes hardened. "Sit down." Aderemi did not.
"I will not insult your house," he continued, voice steady but firm. "But I will not shrink to fit fear." Mrs. Afunwa gasped softly. Ifediba stared at him-heart pounding, pride blooming dangerously. Chief Afunwa rose slowly.
"You have courage," he said coldly. "But courage without permission is rebellion."
Aderemi bowed slightly. "Then I stand guilty."
Silence. Long. Heavy. Loaded. Finally, Chief Afunwa spoke. "You may go." Ifediba froze. "Daddy-" "Both of you," he said. "Go."
Aderemi turned to Ifediba, squeezing her hand once. Outside the gate, the night swallowed them. Ifediba's hands shook.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Aderemi exhaled slowly. "Don't be." She looked at him, eyes wet. "They will fight this." He nodded. "Then we fight back. Properly."