The house was calmer that morning.
Not silent. Not empty. Just steady.
Dayo was seated in the living room when Abisola returned from the family house. She did not sit immediately. She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, looking at him the way only a mother could.
"So," she began, "you are still planning not to come today?"
He leaned back slightly in his seat, calm.
"I told you, Mama. I will come for the main wedding tomorrow."
Abisola narrowed her eyes a little. "They asked about you."
"I expected that."
"You know how our people are. When they hear you are around and you don't show face, they start building stories."
He smiled faintly. "Let them build. I did not want to draw attention to what they were doing."
She watched him carefully.
"What they were doing was family."
"I know," he replied softly. "But that was their formal visit. The groom is kneeling. The bride's family receives him. That moment should not be bent by noise. Even small noise."
