Yetunde Chapter 1!❤️

Chapter 1. 

It’s 1967 and as usual, there is so much going on in the country. Starting from the spring of the inter-tribal war between the Yorubas and the Igbos to the death of the politician Kolawole Ojo. But as Yetunde looked at her husband, all she could see was the youthful exuberance she fell in love with slipping away. 

As the music mixed with their breaths after what seemed like a confession of love with a mix of lust, she let her thoughts wander far away. 

He was going again. 

Leaving her again. 

Didn’t this man care for her? 

Wasn’t he scared? 

Putting his life at risk for a country that could not care less if he was alive or not.

She was sure he had the biggest internal war inside of him right now. But staying with her was not a contender. And would never be.

She was so sure he would never consider staying with her. He never showed love until he wanted to fulfill his desires. “The need to feel alive” he had said when she confronted him about the head of ammunition position he had taken. He came back home excitedly that day to share news that sounded very displeasing to her ears. But as usual, her opinions didn’t matter. His love was a façade. 

The last time he hadn’t said anything when he got back from the battle. But when they explored their bodies in the dead of the night, she had noticed the wound. They had the biggest argument that night. The bullet had barely scraped his shoulders, but this time would it be his heart?

Nine hours. 

That’s all the time she had to spend with him. But as usual, like all the time they had spent together during their three years of marriage, she knew it would be filled with worry and sadness for her but nonchalance on his side. And without her consent, a sigh escaped her lips. It was at times like this she wished she had a child. But with all the efforts, nothing. Nothing came out of it. And just like that another sigh escaped her lips. 

She looked up, worried he might have heard her sigh. But just as normal, Dayo was fast asleep. Was this a marriage? Or a bondage? Had she given up her heart to someone who didn’t give the littlest fuck about her? Or was this all a play from the onset? 

With these thoughts piercing her mindset repeatedly, she fell asleep.

 

2am. He woke up by 2am and stared down at the most beautiful dream he ever had. He remembered the first time he first saw her. Yetunde in her skimpy skirt and the most beautiful top he ever laid his eyes on. He had stared at her until Mohammed nudged him. 

“Lower your gaze Dayo. Because I know you now, next thing na haram you go commit.”

But she was so beautiful. 

So so beautiful.

And when she smiled at him and Moh, he swore it was the most beautiful thing he had seen that year. And even now, when he looked down at her sleeping face, light snores escaping her plump lips, she still was the most beautiful person he ever saw. 

But things never go unnoticed to a military man they had said and her sighs and the absence of the smiles she gave to him didn’t go unnoticed either. He had to do this. What would be their source of income? 

He couldn’t let her work. 

He couldn’t let her go into the taskforce. 

She deserved better. 

But when would he ever be the better she deserved? 

When would he make her smile? 

Or be the reason she was happy? 

Tomorrow, she would wake up and give him the biggest smiles while serving him food but he knew she was hurting inside. And anytime he wanted to ask why or know what was going on, an argument sprung up. But he knew what he had to do. For him. And mostly, for her. And when the sun rose later, he was going for war. 

The next morning, Yetunde was wide awake when the sun rose. Her thoughts wouldn’t let her sleep soundly. Dayo! Dayo! Dayo! They kept on chanting his name but as she stood up from the bed, she had decided. She wouldn’t let it bother her. She couldn’t make him stay anyway, so she would give him one of the warmest goodbyes ever known to man. 

Yes! She wouldn’t be bothered so much. He would be okay. This time too, he would come back to her. This time too, he would make a corny joke at the door and smile after the war. This time too, he would show how much he missed her after the war. This time too, they would be okay. And just like that, she set out on her morning duties. Cleaning the house, cooking food and whatnot. 

“And there’s my beautiful wife” Dayo remarked as he walked down the stairs to a glowing Yetunde setting the table. Her beauty was something to study, he thought. How could someone be overly worried and effortlessly beautiful at that? 

He looked at her and the longing almost didn’t let him leave. ALMOST. What needed to be done would be done. And with that thought, he sat for breakfast. 

Yetunde didn’t sit with him though. She served his food and went back to the bedroom upstairs while muttering “I need to check if you packed everything” under her breath. 

Was this what he wanted when he got married? No. He had hoped for a wife that would sit at the table with him and laugh at his corny jokes. But he knew. It was like other times, she didn’t want to cry or tell him how much she would miss him, so she buried herself in working around the house. Any chore she could find. The other time she had wiped all the windows down and wouldn’t even look him in the face when he left. 

This time though? No. He decided. He would show her how much he loved her before he left in 2 hours. In good spirits, he hurriedly finished his food and went upstairs to the most beautiful woman he had ever met. 

“Yetunde…” He softly pronounced her name just like he knew she liked. She turned around and he saw her. Her eyes were red and puffy and her lips were quivering. She had been crying. 

How was he to react to this? 

You go upstairs to see your wife crying about something you cannot change, what would you do? 

He cracked his head for answers but settled on the one thing he desperately wanted to do at that point. He hugged her as she cried into his chest. He hugged her until his shirt got wet from her tears and when he noticed she was done, he looked her in the eyes. 

“Yetunde can we talk?”

She looked at him. What was to talk about? The sadness she had been feeling or had he decided that for once he would put her first? What was to talk about? 

“Lead the conversation.” She replied with a newly found fierce spirit. She had been crying a minute ago but that didn’t mean her confidence was low.

“Yetunde, why? Why don’t you have breakfast with me anymore? Why did you cry? Yetunde, please talk to me. What is going on?” 

And with those questions, anger started bubbling inside of her. He was asking her why? He dared to ask what was going on like he couldn’t see it?  And just like that, a spark went off in her head. 

“It’s sad isn’t it Dayo? That I love you more than you do me, it’s sad isn’t it?” He wanted to interrupt but she put her hand up indicating she wasn’t ready to hear any of it and she wanted to get this off her chest. 

“Every time! I beg you every time! I beg you not to go. But you never listen. Nigeria needs you, Nigeria needs you but can’t you see that I need you the most? It feels like our marriage is crumbling and I’m the only one fighting for it? You’re letting me go for a country that doesn’t care for your life? Are you demented? Do you not love me anymore? I cry, I beg, I do everything for you Dayo! Just don’t go but you never listen. But I guess you do not love me anymore.” 

Tears had started to roll down her cheeks again. No. she could not have this conversation when she wasn’t composed. She needed to compose herself. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. She left the room. Nudged past him and left the room. Left the room with Dayo sitting there wondering what just happened. He kept on thinking about her last sentence. 

“But I guess you do not love me anymore.”

How could she think that? How could she ever think he wasn’t stupidly in love with her? How? No. He was going to show her, tell her or do anything for her to know love? Love was a little word for what he felt for her. But as he was about to leave the room, the alarm sounded. He had 10 minutes to stay in the house. 

He got dressed up, dropped a note for Yetunde under the clock, zipped his bag up, lifted it and hurriedly left the room to see Yetunde downstairs. 

“Yetunde, I just want you to know…” 

“Dayo you’re late. Just go.”  She cut him off and turned her back on him. 

“I love you Yetunde. Always have, always will.”

And with that sentence, he was out of the door. And he hoped, he just hoped she would find the note and always remember that he had undying love for her and this? This was something he had to do. 

But Yetunde collapsed on the floor in a fit of tears. She was feeling all emotions at once, overwhelmed, sadness, love, anger… Everything! She stood up grabbed a bottle of beer, and drew down the curtains. She drank and she cried and slept off with one line by her favorite poet on her mind. 

“Love is the most fucked up feeling of all.”

The orders had been passed on to him. They were simple orders. The same as the ones he always got. This is a war. You know what to do. Normally, this would be the point he would gather his team before they got on the plane. But this time? He was with his team physically but his mind? His mind was wandering off to Yetunde. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Did she find the note? Did she understand the gravity of the situation? What was she doing? 

So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice when his name was repeatedly called out. It was time to get on the plane. But was it right? Leaving for this fight at the expense of his marriage? Whether it was right or not, nothing could be done. He was already on the flight. His love would have to wait. He said a silent prayer. 

“Lord, even if this is the only thing I’ll ever ask for, please let Yetunde find the note.”