THE UNWANTED VOWS

Tunde’s hand trembled as he reached for the edge of the white veil. His heart pounded — not with nervousness, but with certainty. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for. The moment he would finally lift the veil and present his bride to the gathered guests.His fingers touched the lace.

— Wait!

His mother’s voice cut through the air like a blade. Aisha rushed forward and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand back down.

— Not yet, Tunde. Please.

Tunde froze. His jaw tightened. He spun to face her, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury.

— Again, Mother? — His voice was low at first, but it rose quickly. — This is the second time! First, at the altar. I obeyed you then. I held back. I told myself it was tradition, that there was a reason. But now? Here, in front of all these guests, you stop me again?

He yanked his hand free, stepping back.

— What is this? Is she not mine to see? Am I not her husband? Why do you keep doing this to me?

Aisha’s eyes were wet, but she held his gaze firmly.

— Tunde, my son… there is something you need to know first. Something we should have told you earlier.

— Know what? — He scanned the room — his father Kunle standing stiffly nearby, Bukola and Olamide exchanging nervous glances, and behind him, the veiled bride, silent and still. — You’ve been strange all day. Everyone whispering. Just tell me!

Kunle stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder.

— Tunde, sit down. Your mother and I have something to tell you.

Aisha took a deep breath. Then she spoke, not to Tunde, but to the entire gathering.

— The truth must be spoken.

The room went silent.

— Tunde, my son — Aisha’s voice trembled, but she forced the words out —, you are already married. The wedding was completed yesterday, in a private ceremony. We did not tell you because we knew you would not agree.

Tunde stared at her, uncomprehending.

— What?

— The woman under that veil is not Amara. It is Gold. Her cousin. She has been your wife since last night.

The words hit him like stones. He felt the floor tilt.

— Gold? — His voice was barely a whisper. Then louder: — Gold? Amara’s cousin? What are you talking about?

Kunle stepped closer, his tone firm.

— Amara left. She disappeared three days ago. Her family told us she would not be coming back. We had to save the honor of both families. Gold agreed to take her place. The marriage is already registered, Tunde. It is done.

Tunde’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. He turned to look at the veiled figure — the woman he had thought was Amara.

— I don’t believe you, — he said, his voice low and dangerous. — I need to see for myself.

Before anyone could stop him, he spun around, grabbed the edge of the veil, and yanked it off in one swift, violent motion.

The lace fell away.

And there she was.

Not Amara.

Gold.

Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her hands trembled in her lap. She looked up at him — not with hope, but with fear. With shame. With the weight of a secret she had carried for days.

Tunde stared at her. His heart stopped. Then raced. Then shattered.

— It’s really you, — he whispered. Then his voice cracked like thunder. — It’s really you! Not Amara. You. Gold. My own cousin!

He staggered back, shaking his head, his eyes wild.

— You did this to me? — He turned on his mother, his father, his voice breaking raw and shaking. — You married me off like a piece of property? Without asking? Without telling me?

— We had no choice, my son — Aisha pleaded, reaching for him. — The wedding was already arranged. The guests were invited. We could not cancel.

— So you replaced her? Like swapping one dish for another? — Tunde laughed — a bitter, hollow sound. Then his eyes narrowed as realization struck like lightning.

— And now I understand. I understand everything.

He turned to face his mother, his voice rising with each word.

— Amara’s parents weren’t here tonight, were they? You told me they had an emergency — that they had to travel urgently. An emergency, you said! Which parents miss their own daughter’s wedding reception? Which parents don’t come to see their daughter’s face unveiled? They knew, didn’t they? They knew their daughter had run away, and they fed me those stupid excuses because they were too ashamed to tell me the truth!

He paced, his hands shaking.

— “They’re stuck in traffic.” “They had a family issue.” “They’ll come later.” All of it lies! You all knew — every single one of you — and you let me stand here like a fool, reaching for a veil that hid a stranger!

His father tried to speak, but Tunde cut him off.

— No! Don’t. Don’t say another word. You took away my choice. You took away my future. And now you expect me to smile and accept this?

He turned his back on them, his whole body trembling with rage.

And that is when the room fell into the strange, heavy silence that would mark the beginning of everything that followed.

Inside Tunde, something shattered.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t leave right away — not yet. He stood frozen, motionless, as the words lodged in his chest like stones. Married. To Gold. Not to Amara.

Amara. His Amara. The woman he had dreamed of building a home with. The woman who had smiled at him just weeks ago, held his hand, promised him nothing but the truth. And now she had left. Disappeared. And in her place was her cousin — Gold — head bowed, cheeks swollen from crying, a stranger wearing a wedding she had no right to.

Olamide and Bukola stood silent, watching. They knew Tunde’s temper better than anyone. Olamide had seen that anger grow before — slowly, and then all at once, like a dry river that fills in an instant. He understood why Tunde was furious. But this wasn’t the time to get involved. Not yet.

Even so, Tunde’s anger didn’t pass. It grew.

With every breath, he felt the betrayal sharpen. Amara had left him without a word. And now his parents expected him to live with her cousin? A woman he had never chosen? A woman who sat beside him under the wedding while his heart still bled for someone else?

He wanted to throw her out. He wanted to walk out that door and search every corner of the city until he found Amara. But his feet wouldn’t move. His parents were there — tired, hopeful, fragile. He couldn’t break those two. Not tonight.

So he did the only thing he could. He looked at Gold — just once. Long enough to see her trembling hands, her red, swollen eyes, her silent shame. Then he looked away. And without saying a word to anyone, he went to his room and closed the door.

No one tried to stop him. Everyone knew: Tunde needed to break before he could bend.

When the door closed, Aisha turned to Olamide and Bukola. Her voice was calm, but her hands were clenched.

— Do you two also think what happened was wrong?

Olamide let out a slow sigh.

— No, Mom. I know you made this decision carefully. For Tunde’s good. But… maybe it would have been better to tell him beforehand. He can’t process something this big in just one night.

Bukola nodded, her usual cheerfulness gone.

— Yes, Mom. Look at how happy everyone was just an hour ago. And now… — She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

Gold’s voice cut through the silence, hoarse and broken.

— I’m sorry.

She was crying again — or still. It was hard to tell. Her whole body seemed to tremble from within.

— It’s all my fault. You were all so happy, and I ruined everything. It’s all because of me.

But Aisha crossed the room and took Gold’s hands. Gently. Firmly.

— No, Gold. None of this is your fault. You saved our family’s honor by agreeing to marry Tunde. Don’t blame yourself. Go rest — you must be exhausted.

Kunle stepped closer, his voice soft but firm.

— And enough tears. From today on, you are our daughter. We cannot bear to see our daughter cry. If Tunde says anything that hurts you — and he might — you come straight to us. Okay?

Gold nodded, but her throat was so tight she couldn’t speak.

Aisha turned to Bukola.

— Bukola, take Gold to her room. Give her some of your clothes for now; her things arrive tomorrow.

Bukola put her arm around Gold’s shoulders and guided her out.

As soon as they left, Aisha’s calm broke. She looked at Olamide.

— Talk to him. Please. He must be so lost right now.

Olamide placed his hand on her shoulder.

— Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll talk to him. He’ll understand. You should rest.

But even as he said it, Olamide knew: understanding wasn’t what awaited him in Tunde’s room. It was a storm. And he was about to walk right into it.

Bukola guided Gold down the silent hallway. The house was large, old, smelling of dried herbs and the wax from evening candles. Somewhere, a radio played soft, distant music.

Bukola broke the silence with a smile.

— So, sister-in-law, what do you do?

Gold looked at her, startled.

— You called me sister-in-law?

— Yes! — Bukola tilted her head, eyes glinting with mischief. — You’re married to my brother now. So you’re my sister-in-law, aren’t you? Or… can I not call you that?

— No, it’s not that. I just… — Gold hesitated. — Aren’t you angry with me? For hurting your brother? For marrying him by deception?

Bukola shook her head with a smile.

— Not at all! You didn’t do it on purpose. Besides, we’ve met before — remember? When I went to your house? I already liked you back then.

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper.

— Want to know a secret? I never really liked Amara as a sister-in-law that much. But my brother liked her, so what could I do? Oh, but don’t tell anyone I said that, okay?

For the first time that day, Gold smiled. A tiny, fragile thing — but real.

— Don’t worry — she said. — I won’t tell anyone.

She wasn’t surprised by Bukola’s honesty. She knew her cousin Amara well enough to understand why someone might not get along with her.

Bukola smiled even wider.

— To be honest? I had already set you up with Olamide. But I think you were destined to be with Tunde instead.

She winked, and her laughter filled the room like sunlight streaming through a dusty window.

Gold felt something loosen in her chest. She had found an ally. Maybe even a friend. On that strange, suffocating night, that small warmth was enough.

Meanwhile, Olamide walked toward Tunde’s room.

With every step, the air grew heavier. The hallway seemed longer. He passed framed photos of family weddings, faded portraits of grandparents, a small wooden cross hanging crookedly on the wall. Normal things. But tonight, they felt like witnesses.

He reached the door. Stopped. Listened.

Silence. But not peace. The kind of silence that comes before chaos.

He opened the door slowly and peered inside.

Tunde was sitting on the floor, back against the bed, knees pulled up. His eyes were dry — no tears — but red. Furious. His jaw so tight it seemed to hurt. He wasn’t crying. He was burning.

— You’re wondering why Amara did this to you, aren’t you? — Olamide said softly, entering.

Tunde flinched at the sound of the voice. But when he saw it was Olamide — his brother, his closest friend — he stood up and hugged him. Tightly. Desperately.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Olamide pulled back and asked:

— Did she ever tell you she was in love with someone else?

Tunde nodded, his voice hollow.

— Yes. During university. She was with someone. They broke up. She said it was over. She said I was the one she wanted.

Olamide studied his face.

— And you believed her.

— I loved her. — Tunde’s voice faltered. — Of course I believed her.

But then something shifted. The sadness hardened into something uglier.

— What nonsense are you saying? — Tunde pulled away, now pacing. — How can I think about someone whose name I only just learned? Who is Gold? Why did she marry me? I can’t imagine living my life with a stranger. How did she agree to this? Doesn’t she have any self-respect? I don’t even want to look at her face.

Olamide’s voice sharpened.

— Enough. You shouldn’t speak about someone like that without knowing the whole story. She agreed to marry you to save her family’s honor. She didn’t think about herself at all. So stop. If anyone else in this house hears you, you’ll have serious problems.

— My own brother? — Tunde’s voice rose. — My closest friend? Taking the side of a stranger against me? You’ve known her for a few minutes, and now you’re here giving me lectures about her?

— I’m not choosing sides. — Olamide remained calm, but his eyes were hard. — I’m explaining what Mom told me. I can see the innocence in Gold’s eyes. Give yourself a chance to get to know her.

— So you’re telling me to forget Amara? My first love? Accept a stranger as my wife? — Tunde laughed — a bitter, broken sound. — I’m going to find Amara. And everything will be fine.

— Are you crazy? — Olamide shot back. — What will be fine if Amara comes back? Don’t forget you’re married now — to Gold. She’s your wife. She’s my sister-in-law.

— I don’t accept this marriage! — Tunde’s voice thundered. — She can be your sister-in-law or this family’s daughter-in-law, but she will never be my wife. Apparently, she did this for money. She’s not innocent — she’s greedy. She probably sat under the wedding for money and nothing more. Doesn’t she have any shame, marrying her own cousin’s fiancé? And Mom and Dad, how could they marry me to her without even asking me?

— I can’t even look at a girl without character like her, let alone accept her as my wife! — Tunde’s harsh words cut deep.

— Stop it, Tunde. What are you saying — — Olamide was about to respond when another voice interrupted.

— That’s enough. You two. I’ve been listening for a while, but this is too much.

It was Bukola, standing at the door with Gold, who had her head down. They had heard everything Tunde and Olamide were saying. Tears streamed down Gold’s face after hearing those things about her.

When Tunde and Olamide saw Bukola and Gold at the door, they were shocked.

— And you, Tunde brother — Bukola said, stepping forward —, think before you speak. How can you say those things?

— She can’t stay here. She can’t stay here — Tunde shot back again.

— Olamide brother, please explain something to him — Bukola said, exasperated.

— Listen, Tunde. Stop acting like a child. You’re married now. She’s your wife, so she’s staying here. Where would she go? — Olamide said, trying to reason.

— I don’t care where she goes. She can stay wherever she wants but not here. And don’t call her ‘sister-in-law.’ How can you accept her as your sister-in-law so easily? You’re my brother! — Tunde argued.

— Please, don’t fight because of me. I’ll sleep in another room. I don’t mind — Gold finally spoke after being silent for a long time.

— Wait, sister-in-law. Tunde, I’m calling her sister-in-law because she’s your wife. If you keep pushing me, I won’t have a problem calling you brother-in-law too — Olamide said, with a sideways smile. Tunde glared at him.

— Sister-in-law, you’re staying here. If Mom finds out you slept in another room, none of us will have any peace — Olamide said firmly.

— Yes, sister-in-law. And if Mom finds out, we’re all in trouble tomorrow morning — Bukola added before dragging Olamide out of the room.

— Okay, Tunde brother and sister-in-law. Good night. Stop fighting and go to sleep. And sister-in-law, if you need anything, you know where my room is. Just come — Bukola said as she closed the door behind her.

Now Tunde and Gold were alone in the room. Gold noticed the room was decorated with flowers for the wedding night, which made her even more anxious. Neither said a word.

The silence stretched — thick, unbearable, alive.

And in that silence, something new began to grow. Not trust. Not forgiveness. But something heavier.

Anticipation.

Because Tunde’s anger hadn’t disappeared. It had only gone underground. And Gold — she was no longer just sad. She was afraid. Not of his words. But of what she saw in his eyes when he finally turned.

He didn’t look at her as a wife.

He looked at her as a question he never wanted to answer.

What happens next?

Will Tunde apologize for his cruelty? Will Gold find her voice? Or will the silence between them break into something even darker?

👉 Continue to the next chapter – more tension, more truth, and a confrontation you won’t see coming.