F.A.T-Chapter Nine

The rain ushered us into Christmas. Heavy drops drummed on the rooftop, wrapping the house in a cold silence. That night, none of us stayed in our rooms, we huddled together in the parlour, blankets tangled, the faint glow of the Christmas tree painting our faces in soft gold.

Six weeks had passed since Mum’s departure. Six weeks of fighting back tears, six weeks of holding on to Chinaza, six weeks of watching my friends fill our home with laughter and chatter so grief wouldn’t swallow me whole.

Funke busied herself in the kitchen, the smell of jollof and fried chicken filling the air. Her parents had brought the Christmas tree, and Chinaza had been giddy decorating it. Every time her tiny hands couldn’t reach the higher branches, Alfred swooped her up with a playful groan. He carried her so often that by the end, he was practically the official tree decorator.

The house felt alive again; food stacked in the kitchen, laughter bouncing off the walls, and yet, beneath it all, I still felt the hollow ache of absence. Mum’s voice was missing from the carols, her hands missing from the cooking, her laughter missing from the gathering.

But that night, Tunde pulled me aside. “Grab a cardigan,” he whispered, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Before you freeze.”

Shivering, I followed him outside. “What are we doing out here?” I asked, teeth chattering.

“Merry Christmas!!!” he suddenly shouted into the night sky, startling me into laughter. His joy was infectious, his boyish grin impossible to resist.

I was still laughing when I noticed a man stepping out of a Jeep, leading a calf dressed in a ridiculous red-and-white Christmas outfit. My jaw dropped. I blinked at the man, then at Tunde, then back at the calf, repeating the cycle until the man stood before us.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful lady,” he said cheerfully. “I and Lala send season’s greetings from The Majestic Farm.” It took me a moment before I recognized it, Lala, the calf Tunde had once shown me over a video call when he was away. My heart melted instantly.

I reached for the calf, its coat soft and warm against my palm. Tears stung my eyes as I looked back at Tunde. “Thank you so much,” I whispered. His smile stretched so wide, words seemed impossible for him. He just nodded, his joy written all over his face.

“Omo, I really thought hard about how to make you smile,” he finally said.

“Well, it worked,” I teased, punching his arm lightly.

He chuckled, brushing a stray tear from my cheek. “You can’t keep him though. Before my dad agreed, I prayed wella.”

We laughed together, the sound echoing into the night. For a moment, the grief loosened its grip, replaced by something warm and fluttering. As he leaned closer, I knew what he intended. My heart ached with both longing and resistance. I stepped back, shaking my head gently.

“I really like you, Tunde,” I admitted, “but I’m not ready for a relationship. Not now.”

His eyes softened. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’ll wait.”

I patted his back and forced a smile. “Good for you.”

We both laughed, the tension breaking, and walked back into the house together.

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School resumed too quickly. Between lectures and endless trips to the bank, I barely had time to breathe. Mr. James Lawal, Mum’s longtime friend and our family accountant, took me under his wing. He had wept at the funeral, but since then, he had become a pillar, guiding me through the paperwork, preparing me to become the next signatory to Mum’s accounts.

Alfred often tagged along, chauffeuring me in his Cadillac, keeping me sane with music and jokes as I juggled responsibilities. Some days, it felt like grief hadn’t given me space to even process, it had simply handed me duties and pushed me forward.

One afternoon, while we devoured asun at a roadside joint, Alfred waved the pack under my nose.

“Hey, Missy, where’s your mind at?”

I snatched the pack from him with a glare, which only earned me a playful tongue-out. I chuckled and focused on the spicy goat meat.

“Leave some for me o,” he warned, settling behind the wheel. “You wish.”

As he frowned and turned toward me, I pushed his head back toward the road. “Focus, guy.”

He groaned dramatically while I smirked, letting the taste of the meat distract me, if only for a moment.

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That evening, Chinaza stormed in, shoes muddy from the field. Before I could react, she bolted upstairs, leaving streaks of dirt across the tiles.

“Grab the mop when you’re coming down, Missy!” I called after her.

A groan answered me, followed by the quick realization of her mistake. She returned sheepishly, mop in hand, scrubbing the trail she had left behind.

I watched her small frown as she worked. Something in that expression, so intense, so focused, reminded me of Mum’s little frown when she couldn’t quite finish a painting. She’d pause, shrug, and say, “God has the perfect plan for how it will turn out.”

The memory undid me. Tears welled up as I picked up another mop and joined Chinaza. “It’s okay,” I whispered when she apologized. “Now you know better.”

She hugged me tightly, squeezing me with surprising strength, then darted back upstairs. The doorbell rang. I sighed in relief—it was better than Alfred’s thunderous knocks. But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Alfred. It was Tunde.

“So,” he said with a grin, “what am I helping out with today?” “That.” I pointed to the mountain of documents piled on the desk.

His brows shot up. “Wow.” “Yea,” I muttered.

Before I could explain further, Chinaza squealed, launching herself at him. He caught her midair, twirling her around until she dissolved into giggles.

“Done with your homework, Einstein?” he asked.

She nodded confidently. “Good. Go nap.”

She scampered upstairs, leaving Tunde smirking at me. “Jealous much?” he teased.

I scoffed. “Please. Just sit down and help me.”

He shrugged off his black jacket, tossing it onto the couch. “So I do all the reading while you sign? That’s your plan?”

I smirked. “Pretty much.” His chuckle filled the room, and as we settled into the work, the heaviness of grief lightened.

Hours later, I yelped when I realized how late it had grown. Abandoning the paperwork, I rushed to the kitchen, throwing together beans and plantain.

“You’re ignoring me now?” Tunde’s voice teased behind me. I jumped slightly, smiling sheepishly. “Just thinking.”

“Thank you for today,” I added.

He leaned against the counter, his smile soft. “Thank God.”

When I placed a plate before him, he clasped my hand lightly before the prayer. His grip lingered even after.

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t be so hard on yourself. We all understand. We just miss you.”

His sincerity pierced through me. I smiled, blinking away fresh tears, and whispered, “Thank you.”

We ate, laughed at an old movie, and when it was time to leave, he turned to me.

“May I take you out tomorrow?”

I frowned playfully. “Just come over. Chinaza will be happier.” His grin widened. “Deal.”

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The next day, Chinaza buzzed with excitement, helping me with chores but darting to the door the moment the bell rang. She clung to Tunde like a koala, and he happily carried her on his shoulders into the kitchen.

“So you left me because of Tunde, abi?” I teased. Chinaza blushed, biting her lip.

Tunde chuckled. “Leave my baby girl alone.”

“Oh, really?” I arched a brow.

“I love you, Ada,” Chinaza whispered quickly.

“Your bribe won’t work,” I teased, turning back to the dishes.

Moments later, I felt a kiss on my head. Tunde had lowered Chinaza to peck me. I shoved them both out, feigning irritation, though my heart was light with laughter.

From the kitchen, I heard Tunde’s voice, low and animated, weaving a story for Chinaza. Her giggles floated back, filling the air with joy.

Then my phone buzzed. I slipped it out of my pocket.

The goal is to get her to sleep, so I can spend time with you. #wink

I looked up sharply. Tunde was staring at me from the living room, a playful smile tugging his lips. He winked, and I nearly burst out laughing. Quickly, I covered my mouth with my palm before I gave us away. Chinaza was still listening wide-eyed to his every word, her little giggles filling the air.

I dashed upstairs before my laughter betrayed me, collapsing onto my bed as the giggles escaped uncontrollably. My chest ached from the joy bubbling inside me, joy I hadn’t thought possible these past few weeks.

A slight knock cut through my nap. Half-drowsy, I dragged myself to the door.

“She’s asleep,” Tunde whispered with a grin.

I gave him a sleepy smile and closed the door behind me. Together, we went downstairs and found Chinaza curled up on the couch, fast asleep, her little chest rising and falling in rhythm.

Tunde stooped low and gently carried her into his arms. She stirred, wrapping her tiny arms tightly around his neck, refusing to let go. He chuckled softly, rocking her until she melted back into slumber. Minutes passed before he finally returned, smoothing down his shirt.

I yawned as I sank into the couch. “What took you so long?”

“She refused to let me go,” he said, shaking his head. “Wrapped me so tight ehn, I had to wait until she sleepily unclenched her little grip.”

I smiled knowingly. That was Chinaza all over: stubborn, clingy, but loving with all her heart. “She really likes you.”

Tunde’s eyes held mine, his voice low. “I wish you did.” I raised a brow, masking the sudden flutter in my chest, and smoothly made my way into the kitchen. He followed, his footsteps steady behind me.

“You keep avoiding the conversation,” he said gently.

I wished he hadn’t followed me in. He touched my shoulder, warm and firm, and turned me to face him.

I sighed. “Tunde, I have a lot on my plate. A relationship isn’t one of them.”

He leaned against the dining table, arms folded, studying me with an intensity that made me uneasy. “You always find excuses to avoid your emotions.”

I swallowed. He wasn’t wrong. I did it often, and this time, I was ready to admit it.

As I placed the last washed plate on the rack, I dried my hands with a napkin and exhaled. “I know I do. But I also know how I feel about you, and I’m not avoiding that.”

His gaze softened, and a faint smile tugged his lips. “And how do you feel about me?” The kitchen suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. I stepped closer, intertwining my fingers with his. My voice was steady but quiet. “I know I want to try. I want to see how it all goes. But I want to be certain of my choices, and that’s by trusting in God.”

Tunde’s eyes glistened. He nodded slowly, then reached for my other hand, locking them both in his. “I love you, Ada. I really do. And I understand. With God’s help, I won’t give up on you, especially now that I know I’ve got a little hold on your heart.” He smirked playfully, puffing out his chest.

I burst into laughter and shook my head, pulling my hands free. Before I could step away, he pulled me into a sudden hug.

I froze for a moment, then breathed in his scent, warm, clean, reassuring. Against my will, I let myself melt into the cradle of his arms.