SUNNY WEDNESDAYS: IVIE (VIII)

 

Rita stood in front of her bedroom mirror, adjusting the collar of her cream blouse. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the fan above her. She let out a long sigh, staring at her reflection. Her boss had stopped coming to church, and lately, she barely said more than a polite “good morning.” 

Rita knew why. It was her fault. She’d crossed a line, even if her intentions had been good. But knowing that didn’t make things easier. The cold shoulder stung. “Lord, please help me,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m stuck.” She picked up her powder and lightly tapped her face, trying to brush away the tiredness. Then she reached for her lipstick, her favorite one, the Maybelline Super Stay Matte Ink. The deep red always gave her confidence, like it added a little fire to her calm. With one swipe across her lips, she forced a smile. It didn’t come naturally today, but she held it anyway.

ππππππ

Her due date was in three weeks, and the last thing she needed was stress. The follow-up team at church had reached out to her. When they gently asked why she hadn’t been present in the last few weeks, her response was simple and firm: “I need some time to reevaluate what I need.”

She was heartbroken that Rita had invited Osaze, but deep down, she knew it was from a place of love. Still, the timing, the shock, it had shaken something in her. The event had been a success, and thanks to the new clients her company had gained from it, she was finally able to purchase a black Hyundai Sonata. No more hopping from one tricycle to another, no more dragging swollen feet across Lagos streets. Now, she could move with more ease and confidence. She was grateful. Rita had indeed been a major part of that success, and as Ivie walked into her office that morning, she made a mental note to show her appreciation.

As she stepped in, there Rita was, already waiting, sitting with her hands folded in her lap like a student before a teacher. “I know I crossed a line, and I am very sorry, Ma,” she began. “I meant no disrespect.” Ivie took in the words quietly. She knew, if she was being honest, that she had fled emotionally instead of confronting the discomfort. It had been easier to avoid Rita than to face her own mixed feelings. “Please, do sit,” she said calmly.

She walked to her chair and slowly lowered herself into it, easing into the cushions. “I shouldn’t have reacted so badly, but I was hurt,” she said, raising her hand before Rita could speak. “Let me finish.” Her voice was firm but not harsh.

“I was just finding myself again. Finding who I am in Christ. And then… just when I was settling into a place I could call peace, you brought chaos into it. I know you think there’s something left to save in my marriage, but I know it’s over. And I need you to stop trying. Can you do that?” Rita’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue. But she stopped. Maybe her boss was just tired of hoping. Maybe that was okay too.

“Okay, Ma,” she said quietly. “And once again, I am immensely sorry.” There was a silence between them that felt like a breath being held and slowly released.

“I need your help in setting up the nursery,” Ivie said at last. Rita’s face brightened, and she sprang up from her seat, smiling. “I wouldn’t miss it at all!”

ππππππ

He knew he was making things worse. From his outburst at her office to the poorly timed ambush at the movie night, it was like every step he took brought more damage. His words and actions had become two strangers who refused to walk the same road. But this time, he had made up his mind: he was going to do things right.

His life had been spiraling long before Ivie left. He had been drifting in and out of chaos, leaning on vices that numbed his pain but never healed him. It wasn’t until his cousin, Emmanuel Godwin, threw him the unfiltered truth that he realized how deep he’d sunk. “You’re a mess, Osaze. And you’ve made a caring woman a shadow of herself.”

It was a bitter pill, but he swallowed it.

He had consistently made Ivie feel small, like she was never enough. Even when she fought to pull herself, and him, out of the dark, he had dragged her back in. Back into smoke-stained nights and bottles half-full of regrets. She had left Abuja quietly. No word. No note. Just… gone.

“What were you expecting? A beautiful letter with petals?” Emmanuel had scoffed during the call. “She’s tired, Osaze. Tired of giving up bits of herself for your selfish, destructive lifestyle.” He had hung up angrily back then, but deep down he knew, Emmanuel was right. Ivie had finally left… and she wasn’t coming back just because he showed up with apologies.

Now, seated in the small but warmly lit reception of her workspace, he glanced around at the changes. The space felt lighter, less corporate, more inviting. A fresh coat of cream paint, a subtle floral scent lingering in the air, a new arrangement of lush potted plants, and vibrant canvas art in frames. It looked like somewhere healing could happen. The voice that pulled him back to the present was soft but certain.

“Good morning, sir. How may I be of help to you?”

The petite, dark-skinned lady had cascading knotless braids that shimmered under the soft light. Her oval face was framed perfectly by the neat rows, with full brows that arched gently above observant eyes, eyes that seemed to search through him, calm yet sharp

“I’m here to see Ivie Thomas,” he said, lifting his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Not barge in.”

Rita smiled knowingly, the corner of her lips tugging up with grace and a hint of humor.