The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting long, golden rays across the room. Yet, its warmth did little to soothe Mrs. Ruth's troubled mind. For all the excitement of the wedding preparations, a shadow loomed over the household,a heaviness that neither laughter nor busyness could dispel.
Standing in front of the mirror, Mrs. Ruth traced the faint bruises on her arms as a result of the strange nightmare , their origins a cruel mystery. The hospital visits had yielded nothing; the doctors' reassurances only deepened her frustration. She glanced at her bedside table, where the dark feather rested, its presence an eerie constant.
Meanwhile, Mirabel buried herself in wedding preparations. The house was alive with the rustle of fabrics and the hum of relatives discussing details, but even amidst the buzz, unease gnawed at her. The date:December 12 was fast approaching, and everything felt both too real and too surreal.
It was during one of these chaotic mornings that Mirabel, sitting on her bed, decided to call her best friend, Binta.
The line rang a few times before Binta answered, her voice subdued.
"Mirabel," she said, her tone lacking its usual brightness.
"Binta, hi," Mirabel said briskly. "I wanted to confirm if you're still coming for the wedding. I need to send your dress material and finalize things."
There was a pause. When Binta spoke, her voice wavered. "Mirabel, I need to talk to you. It's important."
Mirabel frowned, sitting up straighter. "What is it? You sound off."
"Please, don't marry him. Don't marry Mr. Femi," Binta said, her voice breaking as if each word pained her.
"What?" Mirabel's confusion turned to annoyance. "Binta, are you serious? What are you even saying? You've been acting strange ever since you met Femi, and now this?"
"I didn't say anything before because I didn't think it would get this far," Binta said hurriedly. "But Femi isn't who he claims to be. Please believe me."
Mirabel's chest tightened, anger rising. "Are you jealous, Binta? Is this about you being upset that I'm getting married before you? Or is it something else?"
"No!" Binta's voice rose, desperate. "This isn't about jealousy. I'm trying to protect you, Mirabel. Please, just listen to me!"
"Then tell me what's going on!" Mirabel snapped. "If you can't give me a good reason, how can I take you seriously?"
Binta hesitated. "I can't say it outright. If I do, you might not be able to break free. But I promise you, Femi isn't safe for you."
Mirabel shook her head, incredulous. "This is ridiculous. If you can't explain, I'm done listening. I called to confirm your attendance, not to hear baseless warnings."
There was a long pause before Binta sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll come to the wedding, but I won't support it. Just… be careful, Mirabel."
The line went dead. Mirabel stared at her phone, her chest tight with frustration and doubt. Glancing at her engagement ring, she sighed heavily before heading downstairs.
The house buzzed with activity as relatives prepared for the upcoming ceremony. Mirabel spotted her mother speaking with an aunt and pulled her aside.
"Mummy, can I talk to you?" she asked, her voice low.
Mrs. Ruth took in her daughter's expression and nodded. "Of course. What's wrong?"
"It's Binta," Mirabel said, pulling her mother into the quieter kitchen. "She's acting weird again. She's begging me not to marry Femi, but she won't explain why. I'm starting to feel uneasy."
Mrs. Ruth's face tightened, but she quickly composed herself. "Don't let her get into your head, Mirabel. I've met Femi, and my spirit resonates with him. He's a good man. This is just Binta's personal issue, nothing more."
Mirabel nodded reluctantly, though Binta's words lingered in her mind.
Mrs. Ruth, sensing her daughter's continued unease, changed the subject. "Now, there's something important we need to do. It's time."
"Time for what?" Mirabel asked, her voice tinged with confusion.
Mrs. Ruth's gaze softened. "It's time to call your father. He needs to know about the wedding."
Mirabel stiffened. "Why? You've raised me, and he's been absent my whole life."
Mrs. Ruth sighed. "He's always cared for you, even from afar. He supported us in ways you might not understand. He deserves to know about this milestone in your life."
After a long pause, Mirabel relented. "Fine. But you'll do the talking."
They retreated upstairs, away from the noise, to make the call. When her father answered, his deep, measured voice carried both warmth and distance,a reflection of their complicated relationship.
As Mrs. Ruth explained the situation, he listened attentively. "I'd like to meet this Femi," he said finally. "And his family. When are they coming?"
Mirabel hesitated. "On the wedding day. That's when the bride price will be paid too. It's what Femi suggested since his family lives far away."
Her father's silence was telling. "That's unusual," he said at last. "But if Ruth trusts him, I'll wait to meet him."
Mrs. Ruth reassured him, and the conversation ended on a hopeful note. But as they hung up, a sense of unease lingered between mother and daughter.
Later that evening, Mirabel noticed the feather on the table. Its edges pulsed faintly, as if alive. She glanced at her mother, who seemed lost in thought.
"Mummy, the feather"
Mrs. Ruth shook her head, her voice trembling. "Don't worry, my dear. Everything will be fine."
But her tone betrayed her words. The feather's dark presence cast a shadow over their hopes, leaving them both to wonder what lay ahead.
Finally the wedding was less than one week away, and the household had become a whirlwind of activity. Dresses were being altered, guest lists finalized, and the scent of freshly prepared meals wafted through the house as hired caterers tested recipes. Yet, beneath the surface, something darker lurked, unspoken fears, hidden doubts, and a growing sense of unease that clung to every corner.
Mirabel tried to focus on the wedding, pushing aside Binta's cryptic warnings and her own nagging concerns. She busied herself with choosing centerpieces, coordinating with vendors, and finalizing the church program. But every so often, her mind would drift back to Binta's trembling voice: "femi isn't who he claims to be."
Her thoughts were interrupted when Femi arrived at the house. He stepped inside with his usual composed demeanor, his sharp suit immaculate and his cologne faintly sweet. His charm seemed to light up the room, and the few relatives present greeted him warmly.
"Hello, my love," Femi said, leaning down to kiss Mirabel on the forehead. His voice was smooth, his presence commanding.
"Hi," Mirabel replied, forcing a smile as she led him to the sitting room.
Mrs. Ruth appeared moments later, her face lighting up at the sight of Femi. "You came at the perfect time," she said warmly. "We were just finalizing some of the arrangements. You should join us."
Femi nodded, taking a seat beside Mirabel. But as Mrs. Ruth began discussing the plans, Mirabel couldn't shake the feeling that Femi was too perfect,too composed. Binta's words echoed in her mind again, and she found herself studying his every gesture, his every expression.
"Mirabel?" Mrs. Ruth's voice broke through her thoughts. "Did you hear what I just said?"
"Oh…sorry, no. What was it?" Mirabel replied, startled.
"I was asking if you've decided on the bridal train's final lineup," Mrs. Ruth said, glancing curiously at her daughter.
"Yes, it's all set," Mirabel said quickly, avoiding her mother's gaze.
As the conversation continued, Femi's phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his face briefly tightening before he silenced it. Mirabel noticed the shift but said nothing.
After an hour of pleasantries and planning, Femi excused himself. "I need to handle a few things for the honeymoon arrangements," he explained. "I'll see you tomorrow, my love."
Mirabel walked him to the door, where he gave her a lingering kiss before disappearing into his sleek black car. As she watched him drive away, her unease returned with full force.
Later that evening, after the house had quieted down, Mirabel found herself unable to sleep. The events of the past weeks felt like puzzle pieces she couldn't fit together—her mother's strange dreams, the bruises, Binta's warnings, and now Femi's subtle but undeniable tension.
Unable to shake the feeling, she crept downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water. As she filled her glass, she noticed the feather again, resting on the windowsill where her mother had placed it earlier that day.
It was darker now, its edges frayed and curling as though scorched. Mirabel hesitated before reaching out to touch it, her fingers trembling. The moment she made contact, a sharp, cold sensation shot up her arm, and she yanked her hand back with a gasp.
Her breathing quickened as she stared at the feather. It hadn't moved, but the air around it felt charged, heavy. She backed away, clutching her arm.
The next morning, Mirabel decided to call Binta again, this time determined to get answers.
Binta picked up on the second ring, her voice wary. "Mirabel?"
"Binta," Mirabel began, her tone firm. "I need you to tell me what you know about Femi. No more vague warnings. I need the truth."
There was a long pause before Binta spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mirabel, I told you before,I can't say it outright. But I'll tell you this: there are things about Femi's past, his family, that aren't right. If you marry him, you'll be tying yourself to something you can't escape."
"What things? What about his family?" Mirabel pressed.
"They're not who they seem to be," Binta said. "I know this sounds insane, but you have to trust me. Don't let him or anyone else convince you otherwise."
Mirabel's frustration boiled over. "Binta, you're not making any sense! If you can't tell me the full story, how do you expect me to take you seriously?"
"Because I care about you!" Binta cried. "I'm risking so much just by warning you, but you're too blinded by love to see it!"
Mirabel was silent, her anger deflating as confusion and fear took its place. "Binta, please. I need more than this. I need the truth."
But Binta's resolve seemed to harden. "I've told you all I can. The rest is up to you. Just be careful, Mirabel. Please."
The call ended, leaving Mirabel feeling more lost than ever.
That night , Mirabel confided in her mother about the strange encounter with the feather and her conversation with Binta. Mrs. Ruth listened carefully, her expression unreadable.
"Mirabel," she said slowly, "I know this is a difficult time, but you mustn't let doubt creep into your heart. Femi is a good man. I've seen it with my own eyes and I'll keep reminding you if you're not still certain".
"But what about the feather? And Binta's warnings?" Mirabel asked, her voice trembling.
Mrs. Ruth hesitated, then placed a reassuring hand on her daughter's. "Binta doesn't know Femi the way we do. As for the feather… perhaps it's best we leave that to God. Some things aren't meant to be understood."
Mirabel nodded reluctantly, but her doubts remained. As she lay in bed that night, staring at her engagement ring, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life was on the edge of something she couldn't control or escape.