The next morning, I had another WAEC paper. From the moment I walked into school, I noticed whispers among my classmates. At first, I ignored it, but soon it became too obvious to overlook.
During break, I caught some of them staring at me, whispering behind their hands, then bursting into giggles. No matter how hard I tried to focus on my book, their eyes kept following me.
Finally, my closest friend pulled me aside.
"Sarah," she said in a low tone, "people are saying you're getting engaged."
My heart skipped a beat. "What? Who told them?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe someone saw you with him. But the gist is everywhere already. Some are even saying you're pregnant for him. Others are saying you just want a rich man to take care of you."
Her words pierced me like a knife. I felt naked, exposed—like my private life had been dragged into the open market for everyone to gossip about. I wanted to defend myself, to tell them Bolaji truly loved me, that my parents supported us. But instead, I kept quiet. Deep down, the words began to echo in my heart.
Was I really moving too fast?
I was just writing my WAEC, and here I was, already planning marriage.
I tried to shake it off, reminding myself that Bolaji was kind, caring, and supportive—at least, that was what I believed.
But as soon as I stepped out of the exam hall, my heart almost jumped into my mouth. Right there at the school gate, Bolaji was leaning casually on his car.
My stomach turned. Part of me felt happy, but another part was filled with embarrassment. I could already feel eyes on us. Some students nudged one another and whispered, "That's him—the man she's marrying."
"Bolaji, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.
"Waiting for you, of course," he said with a charming smile. "I wanted to see how the exam went."
I looked around nervously. "People are looking at us."
"Let them look," he said confidently, pulling the door open for me.
Inside the car, I tried to tell him about the paper, but before long, his mood changed.
"Who were those boys you were talking to before I arrived?" he asked suddenly.
I blinked. "Oh, them? They're my classmates. We were just discussing one of the questions. It was tricky, so we were comparing answers."
His face darkened. "Sarah, I don't like that. I don't want you too close to men. I hope you won't be like this when you get to university."
I froze, staring at him. "Bolaji, they're just classmates. It was about the exam. Nothing else."
He shook his head slowly. "I'm just saying. Men can be tricky. I don't want to hear stories later. You're mine now, Sarah. I want you to behave like it."
His words stung. A part of me felt angry—why didn't he trust me? But I said nothing.
The same thing happened after another paper. This time, I was standing outside with a boy, laughing about how hard one of the questions was. Suddenly, Bolaji appeared out of nowhere, his face unreadable. My laughter died instantly.
When we got into the car, he didn't smile.
"You seem to enjoy talking with boys a lot," he said coldly.
"No, Bolaji, it's not like that. We were just—"
"Sarah," he cut me off sharply, "you know I don't like it. I want you to respect me. If people see you laughing with boys, what do you think they'll say about us?"
I swallowed, my chest tightening. "So… you don't want me to talk to anyone?"
"I didn't say that," he replied, his voice softening. "Just be careful. You're not like other girls. You're my fiancée. Behave like it."
I nodded silently, but inside, my thoughts clashed. Was I supposed to cut off normal interactions with classmates just because of him? Why did he make a simple conversation feel like a crime?
That night, I couldn't sleep. My heart was troubled. I began to question whether I should continue with this engagement. But I knew my parents wouldn't let me break it—they had collected so much from him already. He was even rebuilding our house, and the engagement was just two weeks away. What would I tell them? That Bolaji's only offense was being too controlling?
The following morning at school, another rumor had already spread. The same classmate I was seen with yesterday had apparently told others that I was shaking when Bolaji showed up. The gossip spread like wildfire.
And once again, I was the center of whispers I could not escape.
To be continued…