Always, Ngozika.

It was winter and France was beyond cold. I sat by the lush chair closet to the window of a hotel which name I couldn’t pronounce, I still did not know how to pronounce words in French. ‘The sexiest language in the world.’ Chike would always say before singing La Vie En Rose, his voice deep and husky. My mind drifted to when I first met him back in Enugu, Nigeria. The way he stopped Ginika from causing a fuss by offering her sweet, and then we had talked about books while waiting at the checkout queue. I found out he is an English Professor in Enugu State University. I told him I am an aspiring Children’s book Author. I purposely excluded the fact that Obinna, my husband would never let me write a book, not while I was under his roof anyway. Now, I was out of his roof and out of his life. The e-mail Chike sent to me after Obinna had beaten me till I was unconscious was a wake up call. Obinna had found out about the implant in my arm, I had no idea how he found out but he did. I had tried to explain to him that we were not in the greatest place in our marriage to have another child but that interpreted differently to him. Insults flew, then I told him what I knew. I told him about the texts I read on his phone. I confronted him about his womanizing, I had chosen to ignore it all these years but since he couldn’t ignore the implant in my arm, I didn’t have to ignore his shameless act anymore. 

It was embarrassing being the wife of a Obinna Okorafor. Obinna is not an honest man. News articles after news articles of his money laundering and womanizing graced The Guardian Nigerian Newspapers. I could not attend the women’s bible study with my head high, the same way I could not ignore the whispering and gossiping with me being the topic of conversation. I couldn’t leave the marriage. My parents recently roofed house in the village held me down, my younger brother who was studying Aeronautic Engineering in Germany held me down, the designer purse’s and expensive Jewellery I owned held me down. Obinna provided everything I needed even the water I drank, and even that held me down. There was no way I could just decide to leave him, or so I thought till I met Chike. Chike who is in his late thirties and chews gum like a woman. Chike who has a British accent and too far apart eyes. Chike who said my name making it sound like music to my ears. Chike changed everything. 

The first time he had told me he was in love with me was when I was at the state University to give a speech about female empowerment and feminism (even if I was the wrong person to deliver the speech). Midway during the speech, an article was released about Obinna being involved in a custom office looting. I was led out of the hall by my bodyguards. As news reporters attacked me with questions and I felt the world crumbling around me, I saw Chike from the corner of my eye and in a spilt second before I was bundled into the back seat of a tinted SUV, he mouthed the words ‘I love you.’ It felt surreal and overwhelming all at once, something I didn’t feel even as a twenty two year old pregnant university student when Obinna always rubs my belly and told me he loved me. I did not believe him like I did Chike even with the whole pandemonium that had been happening around me. When I got back home that night, I was more excited about the fact that Chike loves me rather than the fact that my face would be on every newspaper in Enugu state. 

I looked out the window at the hotel, a man was driving a big vehicle which pushed heap of snow to the side of the road. Another man was giving directions spewing rapid fast French. He looked red and impatient even from up here. I reached for my ring finger instinctively but it was bare. I always fingered my ring whenever I got nervous but then the ring I had worn for twelve years was in a trash can back at Paris Charles de Gaulle airport. I wondered if Obinna had seen the divorce papers by the nightstand, he was always too busy and tired that he forget to notice most things. I wondered how Ginika was doing. I had hurriedly handed her over to Sisi, the housekeeper before I dragged my suitcase down the long flight of stairs, called a cab and headed to the airport. Now, eight hours later, I was at a hotel in Paris which name I could not pronounce. Was this the right decision? Leaving my family? Leaving Ginika? She would hate me in a heartbeat, she was more like her Father anyways. Even at twelve, she was a cunning little girl. I knew she would rather be with him than with me.

The snowflakes drifted down daintily and I watched with rapt curiosity. It never snows in Nigeria. I felt my first snow flake five years ago, my left hand extended outwards and my gloved one held Chike's hand. He had proposed to me for the first time here, in the city of Paris. It was everything I ever wanted but not what I needed at that time. What would Mama say when she hears about the divorce? What would Lovely my elder sister say? She was always quick to judge and hand out blames. She judged me when I got pregnant at twenty two and still in the university. She blamed me for making my husband ‘look outside' when she found out about Obinna's cheating. I could just imagine her pushing her lips up and judging me when she finds out I ran away with a man I have been having an affair with for the past seven years. 

A loud knock on the door dragged me out of my reverie. I smoothed the beige coat I had on even if it wasn’t wrinkly and I walked to the door with jelly like legs. What was I supposed to say when we meet? Do I hug him? I opened the door and a very curt fair face greeted me.

“Hello.” I spoke out. 

“Hello ma’am. Do you need anything?” The lady asked her French accent lacing every word she spoke. Her black hair was sleeked into a bun on top her head and she had piercing green eyes. Her lips was in a thin line and she looked anything but friendly. 

“Um,” I looked around even if I knew I did not need anything. The only thing I needed right now was for Chike to walk into this room and propose to me again. The exact way he did the last time. His hands around me shielding me from the cold and everything bad in the world as he asks me to be his wife. “Can I have wine please?” 

“Sure. What kind?” 

“Red wine please.” I responded as I watched her drag her trolley to the door. On it were cakes, cupcakes and croissants. And the bottom layer was filled with different kinds of wine. As she filled in a Bordeaux glass with wine I requested a cupcake too.

“Thank you.” I said collecting my things as and shut the door. I placed my wine and cake on a small table as I shuffled out of my coat. I settled into the chair by the window as I proceeded to swirl my wine around in the glass, sniffed it and take a sip. I still did not understand what that does, but Chike would swear on his life that the flavour of the wine is enjoyed better that way. He told me France was the wine capital of the world and then he made a joke which I can’t remember. I still had wine in my mouth when I was chuckling so I had snorted some out and stained my white cardigan. At that moment, I realized I loved him and even if I did not say it to him, I knew. I fell in love in France. The irony of it was comedic. I was going to tell him today, I thought as I took a big bite of my cupcake. 

The snow had stopped falling and out of the corner of the sky, sunlight peeked through. I felt less nervous and more confident. I was finally going to live my life. Not for Obinna or Mama or Papa or Lovely, but for myself. I was finally going to live life for me. ‘You deserve everything good and do not let anyone tell otherwise.’ Chike's voice resonated in my head. At the bottom of my suitcase, a manuscript for my children’s book sat safely. I was going to show it to him. The main character is a twelve year old female, Ginika was my muse. Thinking about her, my heart ached. It was for her own good, she would never be happy in that kind of toxic environment where no love was shown. Obinna and I never speak to each other and the only time we did, it always ended up in an argument.

The bedside clock dinged and I realized it was 5pm. I felt uneasy. He would be here any moment now. I stood up slowly and walked into the bathroom to wash my hands. I looked into the mirror at the small eyes staring back at me. I seemed more sleep deprived than I’ve ever been but at least, I looked happy. 

The hard knock on the door frightened me. I pressed my wet hands on my braids before trying to dry it on my sweatpants. 

I pulled open the door and Chike’s face greeted me. He wore his favourite black polo and a coat over it. His skin was light, too light and if I had not known better, I would think he was an albino. The smile on his face was nearly bigger than mine. His eyes drifted to my left hand. The usual gold band which he hated seeing was no longer in sight. 

“Hello, Ngozika.” He said bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands deep in his trousers pocket. For a minute, I was scared it would get torn.

“Hello Chike.” I responded.