Eventually, he took her to his room in a poor neighborhood. It was cramped and hot, but clean.
“This is where I live,” he said, embarrassed.
He handed her 1,000 naira and asked her to cook something.
When he returned later, he found food that smelled rich and warm.
“How did you do this?” he asked.
“There was rice already in the house. I only added spices,” she said.
They ate together in peace.
Then Obina put down his spoon and said plainly, “I love you. And I want to marry you.”
Chica looked at him for a long moment.
Then she said yes.
Everything moved quickly after that. Too quickly.
Helen did not delay. The marriage was arranged fast, with no real joy, no celebration, just a rushed transfer. Bianca and Linda acted happy, but theirs was the happiness of people who believed they had finally removed a problem.
When Chica left that house, the small room she entered with Obina felt poor, but when the door closed behind her, she breathed as if she had finally come up for air.
Life with Obina was not easy.
They lived in one cramped room in a poor area. He worked long hours for little pay. He came home exhausted, ashamed of how little he could provide. Chica listened and comforted him.
Then she quietly began saving money.
Not big money. Tiny bits—100 naira, 200 naira at a time.
With it, she bought ingredients and started cooking food to sell to neighbors. Later, when that wasn’t enough, she secretly took on harder work at a building site, carrying loads while hiding her growing pregnancy.
Obina discovered her there one day.
“Chica!” he shouted, horrified.
He was not angry at her. He was angry at himself, at life, at the humiliation of seeing his pregnant wife lifting sand.
“I did not marry you for this,” he said, voice shaking.
She promised to stop. Instead, she focused fully on cooking and selling food from home.
Slowly, the money began to grow.
One evening she placed a bag on the table.
Inside was 250,000 naira.
Obina counted it twice, hands shaking.
“Where did this come from?”
“From the food business,” she said quietly. “I want us to use it wisely. Rent a better place. Prepare before the baby comes.”
Obina broke down in tears.
“You are a good woman,” he said. “God sent you to me.”
Then he said something that changed everything.
“I need to confess something.”
Chica’s body went cold.
At first, she thought of betrayal. Of another woman. Of some hidden disaster.
Instead, Obina led her into a car and drove her across the city to a mansion.
When they arrived, Chica stared in disbelief.
“This is my house,” he said.
She laughed once in shock. “No.”
Then an older, well-dressed man came out and greeted Obina warmly as nephew.
Chica turned to him, rage rising fast.
“So you have been lying to me.”
Obina dropped to his knees in the compound.
“Please forgive me,” he begged. “Please listen.”
Then he told her everything.
After his mother died, his father remarried a greedy woman who wasted the family’s wealth and later ran away with his father’s business partner. His father, broken by heartbreak and bankruptcy, died in a drunk-driving accident.
That loss left Obina afraid of women, afraid of love, afraid of being destroyed.
So when Bianca drew his attention to the house, and he saw how Helen pushed Chica toward him like a burden she wanted gone, he became suspicious. He pretended to be poor. He pretended his sight was failing badly.
He wanted to know if Chica would still stay, even if he became completely helpless.
Chica stood there, pregnant, shaking with hurt.
“So everything was a test?”
“Not everything,” he said quickly. “Not what I feel for you. That became real.”
She was devastated.
But then he said something else that mattered.
“They did not want you loved. They wanted you gone. And still, you were kind. You were patient. You were honest.”
He looked at her with tears in his eyes.
“I am fully convinced now that you love me genuinely. And Chica… I love you too.”
She wanted to stay angry. What he had done was not small. It was betrayal born from fear.
But she also remembered the poor room, the shared meals, the way he listened, the way she had already loved him before this revelation.
At last, she whispered, “I am very disappointed.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to carry bitterness inside me. Not with this baby.”
She took a breath.
“I forgive you.”
Obina held her and wept.
“Just don’t lie to me again,” she said.
“I won’t.”
Chica moved into the mansion not long after. For the first time in her life, she slept in a room that felt like peace. Soft sheets. Clean air. Quiet. Food without fear. Doctors. Rest. Respect.
Obina made one thing clear to everyone in the house:
“This is my wife. You will honor her.”
News travels fast in cities.
