Mr & Mrs

A brooding Adewale stood tall at a good six foot four, his eyes fixed on the ground. His posture exuded defiance as if he were a wild stallion yearning to break free from its reins. Opposite him stood Yetunde, barely gracing five feet, her ebony skin glowed beneath the soft light filtering through the windows. Her demeanor was gentle and demure, her eyes downcast seemingly in a display of submission.

The air in the modest courtroom they were in was filled with a solemnity that didn’t quite suit the occasion. They approached the table to sign the marriage documents, Adewale’s reluctance palpable with every step, a tension hung thick in the air. Their fingers brushed briefly as they reached for the pen, sending a jolt of awareness through them both. Adewale’s gaze flickered momentarily, meeting Yetunde’s for the briefest of moments before retreating once more.

His parents had arranged this union out of desperation, hoping to curb the recklessness that had become synonymous with his name. Adewale was always drawn to the allure of quick money, even when his family was wealthy enough. He constantly got himself involved in shady schemes with dubious people. There was excitement in tossing a coin on whether you cash out big or end up in jail. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen much cash out and he only avoided jail because his father was so influential in the judicial system.

Adewale’s personal relationships were also troubled. He struggled to control his anger, which sometimes exploded into verbal and physical fights. He didn’t like to hurt the women he loved but despite wanting to do better, his dark side affected everything he did. That’s why he stopped dating altogether and swore never to marry to protect others from the monster inside him.

Then there was this fight at a bar. Adewale didn’t mean for it to get so bad, but things got out of control fast. His anger took over, and he couldn’t stop himself. It ended with a guy seriously hurt and fighting for his life. This was the final straw for his father. His basic punishment of cutting his son off financially for a couple of months would no longer suffice. This time the old man was determined to do something drastic.

But getting kicked out of the house was fair punishment, getting his credit cards, his car, and his lifestyle taken away he could handle but marrying a woman he did not know was taking things a step too far.

Yetunde stood with quiet resignation, her determination masked by a veil of obedience. She wanted this marriage regardless of the circumstances. She looked at Adewale and caught his eyes on her which he swiftly carried away. She knew he wasn’t as content as she was but she didn’t mind, he would have to do whatever his father expected whether he liked it or not. Like she had done all her life.

She was the perfect picture of docility. Particularly in contrast to her younger sister Modupe, who had a more rebellious streak. While Modupe broke house rules and stayed after school to socialize, Yetunde always returned home on time, completed her homework, and tended to chores. Modupe fought to go to nursing school after secondary school, while Yetunde wrote her grade 12 exams and ended her studies.

Modupe got a job and began to live independently, while Yetunde made a profession of taking care of their parents. Modupe got to meet people and have relationships, while Yetunde stayed locked up in the house. And while Modupe ultimately married a wealthy banker and relocated abroad, Yetunde remained at home, untouched and isolated like an antique rag doll.

Yet she never uttered a word of complaint, even when her mother would lament to her friends about her older daughter in her thirties who might never marry. And in Yetunde’s silence, she would sit in her room and secretly draw lines on the top of her breasts with a blade, counting her lonely days, knowing one day she would run out of space and move on to her wrists. 

This marriage was her rescue, her ticket to having a child to whom she would devote her life and most importantly she wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Their parents watched from the sidelines, their faces a blend of hope and apprehension, As the pen in Adewale’s hand hovered over the dotted line, he felt a surge of rebellion coursing through his veins, a silent protest against the chains that bound him to this stranger. But the look on his father’s face stopped his rebellion swiftly, he signed his name.

Yetunde did the same with deliberate strokes of the pen, a stark contrast to Adewale’s hurried, almost careless signature.

As the judge pronounced them officially wedded, a sense of finality settled over the courtroom. The tension that had lingered in the air seemed to dissipate slightly, replaced by an atmosphere of subdued relief. Yetunde’s parents, beaming with pride, approached the newlyweds, their faces radiant with joy.

“Congratulations, my dear,” her mother whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of authority. “Remember, marriage is about obedience.”

Her father’s expression mirrored her mother’s sentiment as he clasped Adewale’s hand firmly. “There’s no one more obedient than my daughter,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Meanwhile, Adewale’s father stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over his son. Placing a heavy hand on Adewale’s shoulder, he leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of years of unspoken expectations.

“For a second there, I thought you were going to embarrass me,” he murmured into his son’s ear, his grip tightening on Adewale’s shoulder. “But for once, you did the right thing.” Then he turned to his new in-laws, “Well I have a gift for the couple outside, shall we go to my car?” He announced.

The car ride home from the courthouse was suffocatingly quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension. Yetunde, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on her, attempted to break through it with conversation.

“So, what does your house look like?” she ventured, her voice tentative.

Adewale remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as if he were determined to ignore her attempts at conversation.

Undeterred, Yetunde tried again. “How far is it from here?”

Still met with silence, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her attempts at conversation falling on deaf ears.

Growing increasingly frustrated by his lack of response, Yetunde decided to broach a more practical topic. “I’m a little hungry. Would you like me to cook something when we get home?”

But before she could finish her sentence, Adewale’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “What I want is silence.”

The sharpness of his tone caught Yetunde off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. Regaining her composure, she responded with a quiet resolve.

“I don’t expect anything from you in this marriage, you know,” she stated evenly.

Adewale’s brows furrowed in confusion at her unexpected declaration. “Is that right?” he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

“Yes, all I wanted was to get married and then have some kids. I didn’t care who with,” she continued, her tone devoid of emotion. “You can do whatever you want. We don’t have to speak to each other if that’s what you like. I don’t care.”

For a moment, Adewale’s gaze flickered away from the road to study her, a mixture of surprise and bewilderment clouding his features. Yetunde, unfazed by his reaction, shrugged nonchalantly.

“Not what you expected, was it?” she asked, a hint of irony coloring her words.

But Adewale remained silent, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as they continued their journey home. Upon their arrival, Adewale got out of the car, without saying a word and walked toward the house.

 Yetunde turned and noticed the gift his father gave them on the back seat, “Wait you forgot…” But she turned to see Adewale had gone in and shut the door. She sighed and carried the gift, walking into the house.

The house, which was also a wedding gift from Adewale’s father, was a small quaint bungalow; she liked it. Setting the gift on the dining table, she glanced around the living room, but there was no sign of her newly wedded husband. With a resigned sigh, she unwrapped the gift. It was a large clock with “Mr & Mrs” on the inner wallpaper. It looked hideous, she thought to herself as she set it back on the table and walked into the kitchen.

The fridge and cupboards were well stocked and in less than thirty minutes she had cooked a steaming pot of spaghetti and a side of minced meat sauce. She set the dining room table for two just in case, she went back into the kitchen to get the food and returned to see her new husband sitting at the head of the table trying to look aloof.

Yetunde smiled to herself as she served him some dinner. They proceeded to eat in silence, each bite accompanied by the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Yetunde’s attempts at conversation were met with Adewale’s stoic indifference, leaving her feeling increasingly isolated in their shared space.

As she reached for the salt shaker, Yetunde’s voice broke the quietude. “Could you pass me the salt, please?”

Adewale’s gaze lifted from his plate, his expression unreadable as he asked her to repeat herself. Yetunde obliged, her voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

But before she could finish her sentence, Adewale’s hand shot out, snatching the salt shaker from the table with a sudden, violent motion. The glass shattered against the tiled floor, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot.

Startled, Yetunde recoiled, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the shattered remnants of the salt shaker. The air seemed to crackle with tension as Adewale’s jaw clenched, his eyes dark with a simmering anger that seemed to pulse with each rapid breath.

A heavy silence descended upon them, broken only by the sound of Yetunde’s ragged breathing. Wordlessly, she pushed her chair back from the table, the scrape of wood against tile echoing in the silence. She rose from her seat, her movements deliberate and walked over to his side of the table. For a moment it seemed she meant to clean up the shattered glass. Instead, she grabbed her husband’s plate, still half filled with his meal and threw it against the wall.

Then she turned and walked away. 

But Adewale refused to let her slip away so easily. With rough force, he grabbed her hand, his fingers digging into her skin as he attempted to pull her back towards him. Yetunde recoiled, wrenching her arm free from his grasp and continued her way out of the room.

Unfettered, Adewale reached out and seized a handful of her braids, yanking her back with a brutal force that sent a shock of pain shooting through her scalp. Yetunde cried out in anguish as she was forcibly dragged back into the dining room.

With a sinister laugh that sent shivers down her spine, Adewale flung her against the table, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. Yetunde’s hands scrambled for purchase as she struggled to regain her footing, her heart pounding in her chest as she faced her new husband without fear or surrender.

Yetunde’s trembling hands closed around the Mr & Mrs clock sitting on the table, its weight a comforting reassurance in the chaos unfolding around and inside her. With a surge of excitement and adrenaline-fueled strength, she swung the clock with all her might, the impact connecting with the back of Adewale’s head.

He staggered and fell to the ground on one knee, momentarily stunned by the unexpected blow, but his resolve remained unbroken as he recovered with a menacing glare. Advancing towards Yetunde with slow, deliberate steps, he seemed unaffected by the pain, his eyes ablaze with something primal.

But Yetunde refused to back down. With a fierce determination burning in her eyes, she advanced too and raised her hand to deliver a stinging slap across Adewale’s face, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot.

When he looked down at her again, there was blood on the corner of his lips and his eyes had gotten darker. He grabbed her chin roughly. Their eyes locked in an intense gaze, the air thick with unspoken emotions,  neither sure of the other’s next move but also neither afraid.

Suddenly Adewale leaned his eyes now focused on her lips, Yetunde’s mind raced with a different kind of anticipation. With a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips, she seized the opportunity to turn the tables in their silent standoff.

In a swift and calculated move, Yetunde brought the face of the clock still in her hand, crashing down upon Adewale’s head. The sound of impact reverberated through the room, and a thrill coursed through her veins.

As Adewale staggered back, stunned, Yetunde dropped the clock with a satisfied smirk. She watched him clutch at his head, a mix of shock and bewilderment crossing his features.

Without a backward glance, Yetunde turned and darted away, her laughter echoing behind her as she raced through the corridors of their home. It wasn’t fear that drove her, but a mischievous sense of exhilaration – a thrill of playing the game on her terms.

Adewale’s swift strides closed the gap between them, his hand reaching out to grasp the fabric of Yetunde’s dress. With an abrupt tug, the dress tore, exposing the delicate curve of her shoulders and the top of her breasts. Yetunde halted in her tracks, a nervous laugh bubbling up from within her as she turned to face him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

But the laughter died on her lips as she saw the intensity of Adewale’s gaze fixed upon her exposed skin. His touch, surprisingly gentle, traced the outline of the small scars on her chest, sending a shiver down her spine. She attempted to pull away, to flee from the vulnerability of the moment, but his grip tightened, holding her firmly in place.

He looked up and the emotion in his eyes had changed. “No! No… I don’t want that,” she protested, her voice trembling with defiance as she struggled to free herself from his grasp.

Adewale’s brow furrowed. “Don’t want what?” he questioned, his voice soft but insistent.

“I don’t want you to soften,” Yetunde confessed her words in a whispered plea.

Adewale searched her eyes, his own tumultuous emotions mirrored in her gaze. And then, with a sudden clarity, he understood. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I want you to see me,” Yetunde whispered, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

At that moment, their eyes locked in a silent communion of shared pain and understanding. Adewale saw the darkness that lurked within her, the same darkness that had consumed him for so long, now struggling to break free. Though he was prone to hurt others, hers was expressed by hurting herself. 

“I see you,” Adewale declared, his voice filled with a quiet resolve.

And as they stood there, locked in each other’s embrace, they knew that they were not alone in their battle against the darkness. 

All images are sourced from pexels