The cathedral was a sea of white orchids and shimmering gold. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting the assembled guests in kaleidoscopic colors. The air hummed with the sound of a live orchestra and the low, appreciative murmur of hundreds of voices. Every detail was flawless, from the intricate lace on Mina's custom-designed dress to the delicate beading on the programmes. It was a spectacle, a statement. A victory parade.
Mina stood at the end of the impossibly long aisle, her arm linked through Uncle Tunde's—her father's older brother who had, after a long, tense negotiation led by a relentlessly charming Adams, reluctantly agreed to give her away. The traditional rites had been observed, the bride price paid with a generosity that had finally silenced even Auntie Grace's muttered criticisms. Her family sat in the front pews, her mother ramrod straight in a new gele, her face a carefully neutral mask. Lara, her maid of honor, beamed at her, eyes glistening with tears of pride and residual anxiety.
But Mina saw none of it. Her entire world had narrowed to the man standing at the altar.
Adams looked like a king from a storybook. His tailored black agbada was embroidered with gold thread that caught the light with every slight movement. But it was his face that held her captive. The love and unwavering certainty in his eyes was a force field, shielding her from the weight of hundreds of staring eyes, from the ghost of Tunde's heartbroken silence, from her mother's unspoken disapproval.
This was their victory. Their defiance. Every flower, every note of music, every gasp of admiration was a rebuttal to every doubt that had been whispered in hospital corridors and cramped apartments.
The orchestra swelled. The processional began. Mina walked towards him, each step feeling both surreal and like the most natural journey of her life. The whispers followed her.
"…stunning…." "…they say he paid for everything,even the family's attire…" "…a true love story…from a hospital to the altar…" She kept her eyes locked on his.Our story, she thought, a fierce joy rising in her chest. Let them talk.
The ceremony was a beautiful blur. Vows were exchanged, his voice strong and clear, hers a trembling but determined whisper. Rings were slipped onto fingers. When the priest pronounced them man and wife, and Adams lifted her veil, the look he gave her wasn't one of triumph, but of homecoming. His kiss was tender, a promise, and the cathedral erupted in applause.
The reception was held at the grandest hotel in Lagos, a whirlwind of champagne towers, gourmet food, and a performance by a famous Afrobeats star Adams had flown in as a surprise. Mina, now changed into a less cumbersome but equally exquisite gold gown, was swept into the center of it all. She danced with her husband, his hand a steady anchor on her back, his smile meant for her alone.
"Happy?" he murmured in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
"I've never been happier," she whispered back, and in that moment, it was the absolute truth.
During a lull, as Adams was pulled away to greet a government minister, Mina found a moment of respite near the towering wedding cake. She felt a hand on her arm.
It was an elegant older woman, her bearing regal, her smile not quite reaching her sharp, calculating eyes. She was one of Adams's many aunts from his father's side, a woman who had spent the ceremony assessing the guests like assets on a balance sheet.
"Mina, my dear," the woman said, her voice like silk over steel. "What a breathtaking affair. Adams has truly outdone himself." She leaned in, her expensive perfume enveloping Mina. "We are all so… delighted he has finally settled down."
The word "finally" was weighted. The phrase "settled down" felt like a cage.
"Thank you, Aunty," Mina said, forcing a smile. "We're very happy."
"Of course, you are," the woman purred, her eyes scanning the room before returning to Mina. "It's just so refreshing to see a man of his… stature… choose a wife based on pure feeling. So modern. So… romantic."
She paused, letting the backhanded compliment hang in the air. Her gaze then fell to the silver bracelet on Mina's wrist, Adams's mother's bracelet, which Mina had worn as her "something old."
"Ah, I see you have that," the aunt said, her smile tightening. "A lovely piece. My late sister-in-law had such… simple taste." She reached out and touched the bracelet, her fingers cold. "It's good it's found a home with you. It suits your… modest elegance."
The words were daggers, expertly thrown. Simple taste. Modest elegance. They were not compliments. They were reminders of where she came from, subtly underscoring that she didn't truly belong in this world of old money and sharp-edged family politics.
Before Mina could form a response, the woman's eyes shifted to something behind her, and her expression shifted into one of genuine, warm affection. "Ah! There's my favorite nephew! Emmanuel! Over here!"
She swept away, leaving Mina standing alone, the cold feeling of the woman's touch lingering on her wrist like a brand.
A nephew? Adams was an only child. Who was…?
She turned. A handsome young man in a impeccably tailored suit was embracing the aunt. He had Adams's confident bearing, his same smile. But there was a harder edge to his eyes, a calculating coolness as he scanned the room. He caught Mina staring and offered a polite, distant nod before turning back to his aunt.
A sliver of ice traced Mina's spine. This was a part of Adams's world she hadn't seen yet. The family beneath the public celebration.
Just then, Adams returned, slipping his arm around her waist. "There you are. Everything alright?" he asked, his gaze missing nothing.
She looked up at him, at the love in his eyes, and pushed the cold feeling away. She was being paranoid. It was her wedding day.
"Everything is perfect," she said, leaning into him.
He smiled, convinced, and led her back towards the dance floor. But as they walked, Mina's eyes unconsciously sought out the elegant aunt and the handsome nephew. They were watching her, their heads close together in conversation. The aunt said something, and the nephew's lips curved into a small, unreadable smile.
A small, foreboding comment. A shared, knowing look. A seed of unease, planted in the fertile soil of her happiness on the day of her greatest victory.
The celebration roared around them, but for a single, chilling moment, Mina felt utterly alone in the crowd. The friction hadn't ended with the wedding. It had just changed venues. And she had a terrifying feeling the real battle for her place in Adams's world was only just beginning.