Bed of Roses: Sequel to #ACOT (Episode 1)

Hello beautiful people. 

I promised to commence a new series on my blog this month and I'm super excited to announce that a new series starts TONIGHT!.

In my last post, I asked for suggestions on whether to continue the epic story of 'A Couple of Three' or start a new series. I got quite a number of feedback on what the next series should be about from other platforms (asides the one comment that dropped on the blog - which I think was due to the many issues of commenting on blogger (I apologise)). It will be difficult to show the result of the various views here, but believe me, there were more votes in favour of a sequel.

Based on the votes therefore, It is my pleasure to present to you 'Bed of Roses - A sequel to #ACOT (let's leave the long title this way... Lol).

I really hope we enjoy this new story. It's my first time of writing a sequel to any of my stories, so please bear with me if the story isn't as nice (***fingers crossed***). 

Let's get to the story, shall we?

***

• This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidences are either the products of Faith's imagination and (actual places) are used in a fictious manner . Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

...Faith Olatunbosun 

The loud noise from the sitting room woke her up. She had been awake for some minutes but she struggled to get up from bed. Without opening her eyes, she used her right hand to feel the bed in search of him. He was not in bed.

The noise from the sitting room came a second time.

‘Goooaaalllll!!!’ The men shouted at the top of their voices.

She dragged the extra pillow from the right side of the bed and covered her face intently with it, as if to block the noise.

It was her day off; her precious Saturday, the one free from any party or church program. Although choir rehearsals took place on Saturdays, and she was an active member and soon to be leader (at least she silently hoped for that) in the choir, she mentally ticked off her planned determination to skip rehearsals that Saturday with a serious excuse that she would have perfected before the usual ‘after service choir meeting’ the next day.

“Goooaalllll!!!!” followed by loud discussions interrupted the mental check of her to-do list for that special Saturday. She eventually gave up on recovering her sleep from the hands of the ardent Chelsea fans in her living room.

She took the pillow off her face and repositioned it to her back as she sat up in bed. Her eyes moved from the pillows and sheets to the wristwatch on the bedside table. It was 11.55am.

“Oh my… and Bosun couldn’t wake me” She muttered to herself.

Next, she picked her bible and her daily devotional book, scurried through the message for the day and began praying the prayer points listed under the message.

“Father Lord…” she paused a bit. She felt something rise within her. She had woken up with a slight headache, but she didn’t take it seriously. After all, oversleeping could result in slight headaches; she had told herself as she blocked the noise with the pillow.

“Heal our lan…” and there it was. She covered her mouth and jumped out of bed to the bathroom.

She positioned her head into the hand basin as everything rising up from her stomach made its way out through her mouth.

She looked into the mirror above the basin and couldn’t almost recognize herself. She looked pale.

She rinsed her mouth a number of times and washed her face with some cold water, before walking back to the bed. It was only then she realized how weak she was. She felt the intensity of the headache; it was no longer slight. Placing her hand on right hand on her head, she started out softly”

“Lord God, please, I beg you…”

Her eyes began to tear up…

“Morning sunshine…” Bosun rushed into the room to pick his wallet. She hurriedly wiped her face and composed herself before responding. It was a good thing she was backing him by the time he stepped into the room.

“Hey doc…” She forced a smile, ensured the smile transformed into a genuine one before facing him.

“Hey lawyer…” Bosun walked to her side of the bed and planted a light kiss on her forehead.

“Sorry about the noise. Didn’t want to disturb you or leave home on my day-off to watch the match. So I invited Banji and co over.” He started.

“It’s fine…” Fikayo smiled even better this time.

Things had gotten extremely better and smoother between them. Bosun was home more frequently than before and he was now leading sessions at what used to be her personal quiet time. He had since joined her and offered to rotate leading the devotion with her.

She was thankful. She couldn’t complain. This was exactly what she had been praying for. And she honestly believed God orchestrated the entire Sewa-Tade incidence to help her minister to her husband and win his heart genuinely this time.

It had been three months since Tade came around to claim the surrogate mother of his son. After such a long week, visiting Kunle and Sewa at the hospital, she had sat down with her husband one night to discuss the issue. As much as Bosun tried to make light the wound, calling it a mere flesh wound and nothing serious, Fikayo kept saying anything could have happened if she was not there; her friend could have been a widow that night.

“Life is fickle, and every moment should be lived intentionally, with the knowledge of where one would find himself whenever death came knocking” Fikayo had slipped that into their conversation before they retired for bed on one of those hectic days after visiting the couple at the hospital.

She had gone on a personal mission to look for Tade and to ensure that the law dealt with him, but all efforts seemed futile.

Fikayo’s words resounded in Bosun’s ears for a long time, and gradually he began to pick interest in the sidelined messages in the special and latest bible gift his wife had gotten him.

“And I prayed without you this morning. You just looked so tired, I couldn’t wake you up” He continued.

She smiled yet again.

“No problem. It’s fine. Have you had anything to…”

She paused a bit, covered her mouth and tried to hold it in for a little while, but when she could no longer control it, she pushed her husband aside gently and rushed back to the bathroom a second time.

Bosun rushed towards the bathroom after her. He turned on the tap and helped wash her face. It was then he noticed how pale she was looking.

“Sorry babe…” He helped out of the bathroom, held her waist and helped her sit back in bed.

‘How are you feeling?” He placed his hand on her forehead and was quick to get it off.

“Oh my, Fikayo… your temperature…” He rushed to his wardrobe, picked up a thermometer, rushed back to her and checked her temperature.

“I’m fine… really” Fikayo said softly, with all the strength she could mutter.

“No, you’re not…” Bosun rushed out of the room to the kitchen, picked a pack of ice and placed it on her forehead. He hurried to the wardrobe and found a free top and jeans for his wife to put on.

“Oh Lord, let it be some random sickness…” Fikayo pleaded to God on her inside. She tried to say a short prayer but her spinning head won’t give her a chance. As she adjusted the pack of ice to sit properly on her forehead, tears rolled down her cheeks on their accord.

“Sorry baby, you’ll be fine…” Bosun wiped her face with his shirt and helped her into her free top and pair of jeans.

She rested her entire body on him as he helped her out of their bedroom into the car.

“Hi…” She managed to greet the three doctor friends of Bosun who had since noticed Bosun’s movement from the kitchen to the bedroom and figured something must be up.

“I shouldn’t be long…” Bosun started.

“No o, let’s all leave together.” Banji interrupted him, switched off the TV and led the way for the other guys to follow.

The many ‘sorrys’ from the guys intensified the tears that rolled down Fikayo’s cheeks.

“Thanks guys… I’ll call...” Bosun said as he drove off to the hospital.

***

The elegantly decorated hall bustled with numerous gorgeously dressed aso-ebi* ladies and men alike, with uniformed servers attending to tables simultaneously and the smartly dressed ushers directing people to various labeled tables.

The Smiths were politely ushered to the bride’s friends table. Sewa smiled nicely as the male usher walked herself and her husband through the row of labeled tables for the bride’s friends till they arrived at a table with empty chairs.

Kunle thanked the young man and pulled a seat for his wife.

Shortly after they had settled in their chairs, the master of ceremony announced the couple’s entrance into the hall and implored guests to honour them by rising from their seats.

In minutes, Kiss Daniel’s ‘Mama’ began to play and the aso-ebi ladies on the other tables just across where Sewa and her husband sat, were on their way to the entrance of the hall to usher their friend in.

Sewa stood up to catch a glimpse of her wonderful assistant’s dance-steps. She couldn’t leave her husband’s side, not because he wouldn’t approve of it, but because she barely knew anyone at the party. Nonetheless, she danced to the song and smiled as she watched Keffi dance energetically with her handsome groom.

Sewa was excited for her hardworking assistant and the wedding ceremony only reminded her of the beautiful time she had at her own wedding. She shifted her gaze from the aso-ebi ladies and men and all the dancing going on as the DJ changed the songs, to her husband who was engrossed with his phone.

“Honey…” She tapped Kunle.

“Yes, babe…” He looked up from his phone and saw her smiling for no reason.

Since the awkward incidence with her former bestie, Sewa had done all she could to win her husband’s trust and love back. She had opened up on every possible thing that could come back to haunt her in the future, and Kunle had been very understanding. He soon understood the degree of selflessness his wife had and he did his best to caution her whenever she went overboard.

Keffi had been of great help in two out of those three months as Sewa was rarely in the studio. She spent more time with her husband and unintentionally reduced communication with her friends.

It was their first outing since the incidence, and Sewa was grateful for the kind of man God blessed her with.

She smiled on and when it seemed Kunle was getting weary, she let a soft ‘Thanks for everything’.

He smiled back and received the food from one of the servers that was now standing behind Sewa.

“I think I should call Fikayo today, it’s been a while…” She started as she collected one of the plates of rice from him.

Her phone beeped before Kunle could respond.

“Hello… Yes… I can’t hear you clearly…Send a message.” Sewa spoke into the mouthpiece of her phone and hoped that the person who called heard her.

As she picked her cutlery to begin eating, her phone beeped again. This time, it was a message from Chioma, Fikayo’s friend. She dropped her cutlery and rushed out of the hall to make a phone call, leaving her husband bewildered.  

***BED OF ROSES by Faith Olatunbosun

***Photo credit: webmd.com

***Aso-ebi: a uniform material worn by friends of the celebrant at a Nigerian party.

*** Please leave your comments after the read, and feel free to share the story with your network of friends and on various social media platforms. Thank you.