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TWO MONTHS BEFORE : Part 4

The Cracks I Explained Away

Looking back, the signs were there from the beginning. I just explained them away. Because when you want something to work badly enough, you become very creative at reinterpreting reality.

Month 1 of engagement:

We were at a nice restaurant in Dugbe, celebrating my acceptance into the Master's program at UI. I was excited—this was a huge step for my career, and ACE had agreed to support my studies while I continued working.

"That's great, babe," Chris said, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "So you'll be even busier then.

""Well, yes, but it's worth it. And the company is paying for it!

"He nodded, cutting into his rice. "Just... you know, once we're married, you might want to think about whether you really need all these additional qualifications.

"I put down my fork. "What do you mean?

""I mean," he said carefully, "a Master's is great and all. But you already have a good job. At some point, you'll need to focus on home, on building our family. I wouldn't want my wife to be so career-focused that she neglects—

"Neglects what?" I interrupted.

"Nothing, nothing," he backtracked, reaching for my hand. "I'm just saying, it's just... easier that way, you know? For the man to lead. If you end up earning more than me, or having more credentials, it might create... tension.

"My stomach twisted. But I smiled and squeezed his hand. "Chris, we're a team. Your success is my success. Mine is yours. Right?

""Of course," he said. "I'm just being traditional, I guess."

Traditional, I told myself later. *He's just traditional. Nigerian men can be sensitive about these things. He'll come around.

---

Month 2:

Babe, don't you think it's time you got your own place?" Chris asked one evening. We were sitting in my parents' living room, and he'd been fidgety the whole visit.

"Why? I'm comfortable here.

""You're almost 30, Omolabake. And you're still living with your parents?" He said it like it was something to be embarrassed about.

"So what? I help with bills, I respect their space, they respect mine. Why would I waste money on rent?

""It's not about money," he said. "It's about us. We need privacy to build our relationship. How can we have real conversations with your dad in the next room? How can we…

"He trailed off, but I knew what he meant.

"Chris, we're not married yet," I said firmly. "And even if we were, we'd have our own home. But right now, this is where I live.

"He dropped it that night, but he brought it up again the next week. And the week after that. Always with the same argument: privacy, independence, building *our* relationship.

What I didn't see then was that he wanted me isolated. Away from my father's watchful eye. Away from my mother's questions.

But I told myself he just wanted more time with me. *That's sweet*, I thought. *He can't wait to build our life together.
—

Month 3:

By this point, Chris had fully integrated into my church—the church he'd only started attending after we began dating. Within weeks, he'd joined the media unit and was now leading the team. Everyone loved him. He seemed so committed to serving.

I attended a midweek service at church where Chris was leading the media team. After service, I waited for him by the media room.

Through the door, I could hear laughter—his laugh and someone else's. Female voices.

When I walked in, he was sitting close to Sister Bimpe, showing her something on the laptop. Two other young women from the team were there too, perched on the desk, all smiles and giggles.

"Oh, Omolabake!" Chris said, standing quickly. "I didn't know you were still here.

""I was waiting for you," I said, trying to keep my voice light.

"Sorry, babe. We're just finishing up some edits for Sunday's service." He gestured at the laptop.

Sister Bimpe smiled at me—one of those smiles that doesn't reach the eyes. "Your fiancé is such a great leader. We're so blessed to have him heading the team.

""Yes," I said. "He's very... dedicated.

"As we walked to the car later, I brought it up. "You seem very close with Sister Bimpe.

""What?" He looked genuinely confused. "Bimpe? She's just on the team.

""You were sitting very close.

"He stopped walking and turned to face me. "Omolabake, are you serious right now? We were looking at a laptop screen. How else are we supposed to see it?

""I just—

""Just what? You're jealous? Of church ministry?" He laughed, but it wasn't a kind laugh. "Labake, don't be insecure. I'm in ministry. I have to work with people. You of all people should understand servant leadership.

"I felt my face get hot. "I'm not being insecure, I just—

""You are. And it's not attractive." He started walking again. "I thought you were more mature than this.

"I followed him silently, feeling stupid. Small. Like I'd made a big deal out of nothing.

But late that night, I couldn't shake the feeling. The way Sister Bimpe had looked at him. The way he'd laughed with them. The way his whole body language changed when I walked in.

*You're being paranoid*, I told myself. *He's right. You're being insecure and jealous. Stop it.

---

Month 4:

I think we should do pre-marital counseling," I suggested one Saturday. We were at his apartment—yes, I'd eventually started visiting his place, though I never stayed late.

Chris looked up from his phone. "What?

""Pre-marital counseling. With Pastor Mrs. Adeyemi. She does it for all the couples from Back2Eden.

""Why?" His tone was sharp. "We're both mature Christians, Omolabake. We pray together. We study the Bible. What do we need counseling for?

""It's not that we *need* it. It's just... helpful. To discuss things like finances, conflict resolution, expectations—

""We can discuss that ourselves," he interrupted. "We don't need someone else telling us how to run our marriage.

""It's not telling us how to run our marriage. It's helping us prepare for—

""I don't think so.

""Chris—

""Besides," he said, his voice suddenly cold, "I don't think your pastor's wife likes me anyway.

"I blinked. "What? Why would you say that?

""She asks a lot of questions every time we talk. It's like she's interrogating me. Looking for something wrong.
""She's just trying to get to know you—

""It feels judgmental," he said flatly. "And honestly, I don't want her in our business. Marriage is between us and God. We don't need a third party.

"The conversation ended there. He changed the subject, and I let him.

But later, alone in my room, I felt that twist in my stomach again.

Why didn't he want pre-marital counseling?

Why was he so defensive about Pastor Mrs. Adeyemi's questions?

What was he afraid she might see?

He's just private, I told myself. *Some people don't like sharing personal things with others. It doesn't mean anything.

But it did mean something.

It meant he didn't want anyone asking questions he couldn't control the answers to.It meant he didn't want accountability.

It meant he saw my pastor's wife's discernment for what it was: a threat.

But I was too in love—or too desperate—to see it.

So I dropped the counseling idea and told myself we'd figure it out on our own.

—

Each month, the cracks got wider.

Each month, my excuses got more creative.

Each month, the knot in my stomach got tighter.

But I was engaged. The wedding was planned. People were excited for us.

How could I admit I was having doubts?

How could I tell anyone that the ring on my finger felt heavier every day?

So I didn't tell anyone.

I just kept explaining away the cracks, painting over them with hope and desperation and the fear of being alone forever.

Until the cracks became too wide to ignore.

Part 5: "The Prayer I Was Afraid to Pray" drops Monday at 8 PM.

© Adebimpe Obafemi