The first rays of sunlight streamed through the windows of Omolola's room the following morning, gently shading the ornate furniture. The estate was now quieter, the excitement of last night's celebration having given way to the more solemn rhythm of daily life. However, Omolola's mental anguish was only exacerbated by the silence.
She sat at her vanity and looked at her reflection. She looked just as lovely as ever, with her mother's striking features and the poise that came from years of proper upbringing. But today, her beauty felt like a burden because it could not hide the internal struggle she was going through. Her fingers traced the delicate gold necklace with which her mother had presented her on her sixteenth birthday. Her family's wealth and the very expectations that held her back were both symbolised by the necklace.
Omolola's mind drifted back to the discussion she had the previous evening with her mother. The routine remained the same. the same requirement that she marry a person who would preserve the family's reputation and prestige. Oluwaseun Adedoyin. He was the perfect fit—the man with connections who would ensure the family's future. She had heard enough about him over the last few weeks to fill an entire journal: his impressive academic record, his family's wealth, and his extraordinary legal career.
However, none of it mattered to Omolola.
She was thinking about Abolaji again. The man who did not fit into any of the categories her parents had established for her. Neither did Abolaji come from a wealthy family, nor did he have the refined manners of the men her mother had introduced her to. But she was drawn to the fire and rawness in him. He had no desire for prestige or recognition. He was someone who pushed the limits of tradition and supported the causes she championed. This characteristic sparked a deep-seated yearning for something more than the life her parents had planned for her.
The door to her room creaked open, interrupting her thoughts. It was her younger sister, Adebimpe, with her usual energetic demeanor. Adebimpe was everything that Omolola wasn't—carefree, outgoing, and willing to embrace her family's traditional values without hesitation. Where Omolola saw limitations, Adebimpe saw opportunity. It was this difference that often made their relationship complex, with Adebimpe pushing Omolola to embrace her future and Omolola trying to pull her sister toward more independent paths.
"Mama wants to see you in the sitting room," Adebimpe said, her voice light and teasing. "She's already planning the next big event, I'm sure."
Omolola nodded, standing up from the vanity. Her sister's face was filled with excitement, her eyes twinkling at the thought of the new event her mother was organizing—a traditional engagement party for her. It was all so simple for Adebimpe. To her, marrying well was a privilege, an opportunity to continue the family's legacy. She was content with the role she had been born into.
"Have you thought about it, Lola?" Adebimpe asked, her tone turning more serious as she studied her older sister. "You can't keep resisting Mama's plans forever. You're getting older, and the pressure is only going to increase."
Omolola gave her a weary smile. "I know, Bimpe. But I just... I'm not ready."
Adebimpe's gaze softened, but she pressed on. "You don't have to be ready. That's the thing about our family. We don't wait for feelings to tell us what to do. We follow the path laid out for us." She paused, her expression momentarily changing. "But I know it's hard for you. You're different, Lola. You always have been."
Omolola swallowed the lump in her throat. "Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating in all of this," she whispered, more to herself than to her sister. "All these expectations, all this pressure. I just want to breathe."
Adebimpe's eyes softened with understanding. "I know. I can't imagine what you're going through. But you're not alone, you know. Mama just wants what's best for you. She's doing what she thinks is right."
Omolola smiled faintly. "I know, Bimpe. I just wish I could find a way to make her understand."
The two sisters exchanged a long, silent look before Adebimpe gave her sister a reassuring hug. "You'll figure it out. You always do."
With that, Adebimpe left, and Omolola stood in the quiet room for a moment longer, her thoughts racing. The conversation with her sister had stirred something inside her—something she couldn't quite place. It was a feeling of being trapped, yet also a reminder that she was still in control of her own decisions. At least for now.
When Omolola finally made her way down to the sitting room, her mother was already seated, her posture straight and dignified. Mrs. Ajibade looked up as Omolola entered, offering a smile that was warm but tinged with a sense of expectation.
"Omolola, my dear," she began, her voice smooth and practiced. "I've been thinking about the future, and I believe it's time we discuss the details of your marriage with Oluwaseun Adedoyin. I've already spoken with his parents, and they are very eager to meet with us."
Omolola's heart sank, but she kept her expression neutral. "I see, Mama."
Her mother continued, oblivious to her daughter's unease. "It's time, Lola. You've reached an age where you must think about your future, about what is best for our family. A marriage with the Adedoyins will secure everything. Our status, our legacy, our future."
Omolola felt a wave of frustration wash over her, but she kept her voice steady. "I understand, Mama. But I'm not sure that this is the path I want to take."
Mrs. Ajibade's smile faltered, and for the first time, Omolola saw a flicker of something other than certainty in her mother's eyes. "What do you mean, dear?"
Omolola took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I mean, I don't know if this is what I want. I don't know if marriage, especially one that's been arranged, is the right thing for me right now."
Her mother's eyes narrowed, the warmth quickly draining from her face. "You're not a child anymore, Omolola. Your emotions don't define your decisions. Your duty does."
Omolola felt a tightness in her chest. "I know my duty, Mama. But I'm not sure it's the only thing that matters."
For a moment, silence hung between them like a heavy curtain. Then, Mrs. Ajibade's voice, though soft, was firm. "I hope you understand, Omolola. I only want what's best for you. What's best for our family."
Omolola nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of the unspoken words. She wasn't ready to give up on herself just yet, but the battle between love and duty had only just begun.
As she stood to leave, her mother's words echoed in her ears. Duty comes before love.
The truth of it settled in her mind as she made her way out of the sitting room, the weight of tradition pressing down on her shoulders.