Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Kelechi
They say all good things always come to an end, but I never expected mine to come so soon. And of all days, New Year’s Day.
I curled deeper into Marley’s oversized couch, pulling the throw blanket up to my chin as another episode of Schitt’s Creek played on the television. She’d introduced me to this show two weeks ago, and now I was completely obsessed.
Snow continued to fall outside the living room window, thick flakes that resembled cotton balls dancing in the wind. Even after spending the entire holiday season here, the sight still mesmerised me. In Nigeria, the closest thing to snow was the harmattan dust that coated everything in December.
This was magic.
The front door creaked open, followed by the sound of boots being kicked off and muttered German cursing.
“Babe, you back?” I called, not taking my eyes off the screen where Alexis was delivering another perfectly deadpan line.
“Yeah,” Marley’s voice carried from the hallway. “This bloody snow is getting ridiculous.”
She appeared in front of me moments later, her cheeks flushed red from the cold, snowflakes still melting in her dark hair as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. Her lips were cold but soft.
“Did you get the gas?” I asked, tilting my face up.
“Yeah, I did.” She grinned. “And… I also got you these.”
She pulled a bouquet of sunflowers from behind her back, bright yellow blooms that seemed to bring actual sunshine into the grey winter day.
“Marley!” I squealed, launching myself off the couch and into her arms. The flowers crushed slightly between us, but I didn’t care. “They’re beautiful! How did you even find these? I read that they weren’t common in winter.”
She chuckled, her arms tightening around me. “The florist said they were the last ones, and I thought they reminded me of you.”
My heart did that fluttering thing it had been doing more and more lately. I buried my face in her neck, breathing in her familiar scent.
“You’re freezing,” I murmured against her skin.
“Tell me about it. The snow’s coming down so thick I could barely see the road.
I had to drive like twenty kilometres per hour the whole way back.
” She pulled back to look at me, her hands settling on my waist. “Good thing I’m not planning to go anywhere else today, because this Nigerian girl is keeping me warm and cosy. ”
I laughed, swatting at her playfully. “This Nigerian girl has been watching the show you recommended and is getting emotionally invested in fictional rich people.”
“As you should be, because David Rose is a treasure.”
We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and I felt that familiar pull in my chest. The one that had been growing stronger every day, the one that made me want to say things I wasn’t ready to utter.
“Let me put these in water,” I said finally, taking the flowers.
She nodded and headed towards the bedroom. “I’m going to change out of these wet clothes before I freeze to death.”
“Okay, dear.”
A few minutes later, I was arranging the sunflowers in a vase when I heard my phone ringing from the bedroom. The ringtone was loud, cutting through the comfortable quiet of the house.
“Princess!” Marley called. “Your phone!”
She appeared with it in her hand seconds later, now in joggers and a T-shirt, her hair still damp. “It’s your dad,” she said, settling onto the couch beside me.
My stomach dropped because they rarely called unless something important was happening. I took the phone, my finger hovering over the answer button for a second before I swiped to accept.
“Daddy, good morning, and happy New Year,” I said in Igbo, switching to speaker.
“Kelechi, my daughter!” My father’s voice boomed through the speaker, full of excitement. “Happy New Year to you, dear. How are you? How is Canada treating you?”
“I’m fine, Daddy. The cold is… an adjustment.” I glanced at Marley, who was watching with curious but respectful attention despite the language barrier.
“We have wonderful news,” my mother chimed in, her voice breathless with excitement. “Your father and I have been discussing with Chukwuma’s family, and we’ve decided to move the wedding forward.”
The world tilted. “Move it forward?”
“Yes! To Easter, in April. April thirteenth, to be exact. We thought it would be perfect timing. The rains will have started, everything will be fresh and green.”
My throat felt like it was closing. “But Daddy, I’m still in school. My semester doesn’t end until May.”
“Eh, don’t worry about that. You can just take a little break. After all, marriage is more important now. You’re getting older, and the Okafors are eager. We don’t want to risk them changing their minds.”
My heart started hammering as the room spun. I gripped the arm of the couch, my knuckles going white.
“But I thought… I thought we agreed on December, after I graduate.”
“Plans change, Kelechi. This is better. It means you’ll have more time to settle into married life before going back to your studies. That is, if you go back at all. Chukwuma is from a wealthy home; he can provide for you.”
My mother’s voice cut in, oblivious to my panic. “We’ve already started printing the traditional wedding cards! The designs are so beautiful, and the venue has been booked too. Chai, my daughter, you’re going to be such a beautiful bride.”
Bride. The word felt strange.
“Are you still in contact with Chukwuma?” my father asked. “He’s been asking about you.”
“Yes, sir,” I managed, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. “We… we text sometimes.”
That was true, technically. He sent messages, and I responded with brief, polite replies whenever I remembered to. I was never in the mood for calls, always finding excuses when he suggested talking.
“Good, good. He’s a good boy. His father says he’s been saving money for your future together. You’ll be very comfortable.”
The walls felt like they were pressing in, and my vision blurred at the edges.
“Dad, I… this is very sudden.”
“The best things in life often are, my daughter. Trust us, we know what’s best for you.”
“You need to start preparing to come home,” my mother added. “We’ll need you here by March to finalise everything. The dress fittings alone for the traditional and white wedding will take weeks.”
March. Two months away.
I stared at Marley, who was watching me with growing concern, and felt my entire world crumbling.
“I… yes, Mummy. I understand.”
“We’re so excited, nwam! This will be the wedding of the year. Everyone is talking about it already.”
After a few more minutes of wedding details I couldn’t process, the call ended. I sat there holding the phone, staring at the black screen.
“Baby?” Marley’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. My mind was spinning with calculations. April. Easter. Three months from now, I’d be walking down an aisle toward a man I barely knew, in a dress I didn’t choose, making vows that I didn’t mean.
And I might never even see Marley again.
“Nothing,” I said automatically, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “It’s nothing.”
But Marley knew me too well by now. She studied my face, her brow furrowing with worry. Then she was up, moving to the small speaker system in the corner.
“Come on,” she said, her phone connecting with a soft beep. “You look like you need some cheering up.”
A song I didn’t recognise filled the room, as she held out her hand.
“Dance with me,” she said, and I could tell she was not really asking.
I put my hand in hers as she pulled me into her arms, and we swayed slowly to the music. Her hands rested on my lower back, mine linked behind her neck. She started singing along softly, her voice sounding rough but sweet in my ear.
“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, pressing her forehead against mine.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and meant it completely.
She leaned in and kissed me, softly and gently, and I kissed her back desperately, trying to memorise the taste of her lips, the way her breath hitched when I nipped at her bottom lip.
When we broke apart, I forced my mouth into a smile. The biggest, brightest fake smile I could manage.
“Better,” I said, and hated how easily the lie came, underneath the genuine gratitude.
We spent the evening playing card games sprawled on the living room floor, arguing about the rules of Uno and whether skipping someone twice in a row was allowed.
Marley made hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows, and we watched another episode of our show curled together on the couch.
I taught her how to play my favourite mobile game, laughing when she kept accidentally walking her character off cliffs.
We ordered takeout and ate it straight from the containers, sharing bites and stealing kisses between mouthfuls.
Normal things. Beautiful things. Things that should have made me happy.
And they did, in a way. But underneath it all, the wedding date ticked like a countdown in my mind.
When we finally went to bed, she fell asleep almost immediately, her arm draped across my waist, her breathing evening out into those soft snores that usually lulled me to sleep. But tonight, sleep wouldn’t come.
I lay awake in the darkness, listening to the gentle rhythm of her breathing, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against my back. Her arm tightened around me in her sleep, and that’s when the tears started.
At first, it was just wetness sliding down my cheeks onto the pillow. Then my shoulders began to shake, and I had to bite my lip to keep from making any sound that might wake her.
How had this happened? How had I gone from that first day at the airport, when she’d bumped into me and been so rude, so cold, making those comments about my luggage that had stung like paper cuts, to this?
To lying in her bed, in her arms, feeling like I’d found the missing piece of myself I never knew I’d been searching for?
Even then, when she’d been dismissive, I had felt something. A pull I couldn’t explain, something that made me keep thinking about her. Something that made me remember the exact shade of her eyes, the way her jaw had clenched before she walked away.
And now, after months of being together, of her teaching me to drive in empty parking lots while cursing in German every time I hit the brakes too hard, of falling asleep watching movies with my head on her shoulder, of learning that her rudeness was just a shield around the softest heart I’d ever known, I couldn’t imagine existing without her.
How could I function without her terrible jokes in the morning?
Without her hands braiding my hair when I was stressed about school or life in general?
Without the way she always looked at me?
Without her voice singing off-key in the shower, or the way she always saved me the last bite of whatever she was eating?
In the short time I’d been with her, I’d wanted forever. It wasn’t just the physical things, but everything. Growing old with her, building a life with her. Choosing her every day and having her choose me back.
A fresh wave of tears burned my eyes. I had always been the perfect daughter, always followed every rule, every carefully laid plan my parents had made for my life.
Dad had warned me about the Western world, about losing myself to foreign ideas and values.
He’d made me promise to remember who I was, where I came from, and what was expected of me.
“Don’t let them change you, Kelechi,” he had said. “Don’t forget your values and your culture. Don’t follow their ways.”
But I hadn’t listened. I had gone ahead and fallen in love with a woman. Deeply, completely, irrevocably in love. And not just any woman, but this complicated, beautiful soul who made me feel like I was coming alive for the first time in my life.
The perfect daughter had become someone her parents wouldn’t even recognise.
Someone who wanted things they could never understand or accept.
Someone who lay awake at night wondering what it would feel like to introduce Marley as “my girlfriend” instead of hiding what we were.
Someone who dreamed of bringing her home to meet my family, of watching her navigate my world while I held her hand through it all.
Someone who wanted to choose love over duty, happiness over expectations, and her own heart over everyone else’s plans.
And yet I couldn’t have her, not really. Not in any way that mattered.
The sobs came harder now, my body shaking with the force of them. I pressed my face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds, but grief has its own weight, and it was crushing me. Each breath I took felt like drowning, like the air in my lungs was too thick to process.
March was only two months away. Then I would be back in Nigeria, back to Chukwuma, back to a life that felt suffocating.
Back to pretending I’d never learned what it felt like to be truly and completely free.
Back to pretending I’d never fallen so hard for someone that losing them felt like losing myself.
Marley stirred beside me, her arm tightening reflexively around my waist, and I held my breath until her breathing evened out again.
I couldn’t wake her up with my stupid sobs, because that would mean explaining why I was falling apart in her arms when just hours ago we’d been dancing in the living room.
Because how do you tell someone you love them when you’re about to disappear from their life?
How do you say goodbye to the person who taught you what home feels like?
The tears kept coming silently, soaking into the pillow as I lay there wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved but could never truly have.
They say all good things come to an end.
I just never thought mine would end before it had even properly begun.