SUNNY WEDNESDAYS: IVIE (VII)

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Osaze sat on the edge of the plush velvet seat, one foot tapping anxiously against the floor, his arms folded and unfolded in a loop of restlessness. The soft murmur of chatter had faded, the lights dimmed to a cinematic glow, and the large projector screen had already begun to fill with the first few scenes of The Forge. Yet, unlike Emmanuel, who was already immersed in the film and crunching popcorn without guilt, Osaze’s mind was elsewhere.

He hadn't come for the movie.

His eyes darted from row to row, squinting through the ambient shadows of the darkened church hall. The space had been brilliantly transformed into a mini cinema—rows of chairs perfectly aligned, the aroma of buttered popcorn mingling with hints of anointing oil and wood polish. The media team had truly outdone themselves, creating a cozy yet sacred atmosphere. Still, all Osaze could think about was Ivie. She had to be here. He could feel it in his chest, like an invisible string was pulling him closer.

“She’s here,” he muttered under his breath.

“Who?” Emmanuel asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Ivie,” he said with certainty, not even turning to look at him. “I know she is. I just need to see her.”

“You came to church movie night to look for Ivie?” Emmanuel whispered harshly, pausing with a popcorn kernel halfway to his mouth. “No be Jesus Christ you come church come meet, guy. Let the lady be, abeg. This isn't the time.” But Osaze wasn’t listening anymore.

He had already seen her.

It took her getting up five times—for water, or maybe to pee, he assumed, remembering something he’d read online about pregnant women and frequent bathroom breaks—for him to finally place her in the crowd. There she was, graceful even in movement, her silhouette distinct. Her figure slightly rounded, her steps careful but steady.

There was a seat beside her. Just one. Empty. As though waiting for something. Or someone. “I have to go over,” he whispered, already rising from his seat.

“Osaze,” Emmanuel hissed, grabbing his wrist for a moment. “Think. This may not be the place. Let her watch the movie in peace, man.” But Osaze was already slipping through the aisle, eyes fixed on the spot where she sat.

Emmanuel sighed and leaned back in his seat, watching his cousin disappear into the shadows like a man chasing redemption—or repeating a mistake.

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The final credits of The Forge rolled over the screen as the soft hum of worship music faded in. A slow ripple of applause swelled through the church hall, reverent and grateful, until it broke into scattered cheers and a few quiet sobs. The lights gradually lifted, bathing the congregation in a warm, golden hue.

Ivie blinked against the brightness and turned slightly to confirm what her heart already knew. There he was, Osaze, seated just beside her, That familiar gaze, those deep, chocolate-brown eyes that once held her laughter and dreams. He had clearly caught her off guard, she had no time to prepare a response. She got lightheaded and sat down as the movie night came to an end with the recital of The Grace Of Our Lord Jesus Christ. . . “Are you well?” He sat down with her.

“Osaze, what are you doing here,”

“Good evening Mrs Ivie,” She raised her eyes in the direction of a much familiar voice, Ruth and her husband were standing next to Osaze. Ruth helped Ivie get up and whispered into her ear, “I invited him Ma,”

By now, Tunde had strolled on with Osaze and another familiar face, Emmanuel is in Lagos?

“Why would you do such a thing Rita”

Rita knew she had crossed a line but deep down she did not want her boss to dissolve her marriage. She knew the man in question had made horrible choices while they lived together but she knew the one and only Great Fixer: God.

She had sighted Osaze in the dark as he made his way to the empty seat beside her boss. She looked at her husband but did not divulge the information, he was so focused on the movie. She knew Osaze coming was a step in the right direction for their marriage. She could only pray Mrs Ivie saw what she saw.

Ivie reached an octave after Rita had told her that she was the one who invited Osaze. She didn't want to create a scene and she was not in the frame of mind to deal with her assistant. She turned and hurried out of the building before the tears could betray her. She didn’t trust herself to stay composed, not here, not now, not with Rita, Osaze, and Emmanuel all in the same building.

Why? When? How come.

She didn’t stop walking until she reached Allen Avenue, feet aching in her flats, her babies kicking as though aware of her turmoil. The evening wind brushed against her face, but it did little to cool the storm brewing inside her. A tricycle slowed down beside her.

“How much to Ketu?” Ivie peered into the tricycle who had stopped.

“Oga, dey go, no worry, I go pick am,”

The driver hissed and zoomed off.

“Please, come in,”

She turned. Emmanuel. His car door open, expression careful. She sighed, hesitated only a second, and then slipped into the front seat. Her swollen feet begged for relief. The silence stretched between them as the doors shut and the car eased back into traffic.

“I didn’t know you were in Lagos,” she finally said, her tone clipped. “Last I heard, you were still in Abuja.” Emmanuel tried to smile. “Same as you.”

She adjusted, stretching her feet slightly as she leaned into the seat, exhaustion starting to win the emotional battle. “I shouldn’t have made light of why you left Abuja,” he added quietly, his hands steady on the wheel.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. He nodded and said nothing more. Emmanuel knew now wasn’t the time for persuasion or speeches. Sometimes, presence was all that could be offered when the heart was still bleeding.