Then he met Adora, a glamorous, confident woman from Lagos. She was wealthy, beautiful, stylish, and bold. Chik was immediately drawn to her. He spoiled her, paraded her around, and within weeks their relationship became the talk of the city.
Soon he proposed.
The wedding plans were grand, extravagant, and expensive. Chik wanted the whole city talking. He wanted success on display. He wanted admiration.
And, deep down, he wanted Goi to see it.
So one afternoon, while going through the guest list, he took a pen and added her name himself.
“Send her an invitation,” he said. “Front row.”
His planner looked surprised. “Your ex-wife?”
He only smiled coldly. “I want her to see.”
He thought Goi would arrive feeling ashamed. He thought she would sit there and watch him move on with regret burning inside her.
He had no idea.
When the invitation arrived, Amaka was furious.
“What kind of insult is this?” she demanded. “Is he mad?”
Goi held the gold invitation quietly. “He wants me to feel small,” she said.
“Then we should ignore him.”
Goi looked at her sleeping sons. “But what if we show him the truth?”
Amaka frowned. “What truth?”
“That I was never the problem. That the woman he thought was broken is whole.”
Amaka stared at her. “You want to go?”
Goi nodded.
“With the boys?”
Another nod.
Then, slowly, Amaka’s expression turned into a grin. “That man will faint.”
They planned carefully. Goi chose a long yellow gown that made her look peaceful and powerful. The boys got matching outfits. Amaka arranged a black Rolls-Royce. They practiced how the children would walk beside her.
The night before the wedding, Goi sat by the window holding the invitation while Emma stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.
“You do not have to do this,” he said softly.
“I want to,” she replied. “Not to prove anything to him. To remind myself that I survived and I am still standing.”
Emma kissed her cheek. “Whatever you decide, I am with you.”
The next morning, the city buzzed with excitement. The wedding was everywhere—online, on the radio, in every conversation.
The venue was magnificent. A red carpet stretched to the entrance. Cameras flashed nonstop. Guests arrived glittering with wealth. Politicians, business figures, socialites—everyone came.
Inside, Adora stood in white and diamonds, preparing to walk down the aisle. Chik, dressed in a white agbada embroidered with gold, stood at the front, restless. He kept glancing toward the entrance.
Then it happened.
A black Rolls-Royce pulled up.
The back door opened.
Out stepped Goi.
She wore yellow like sunlight. Calm. Elegant. Unshaken.
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