Sweetest Taboo II

She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes, “I am pregnant.”

Ifeanyi’s jaw dropped. It was not the news he was expecting.

“Aren’t you going to say anything Ifeanyi?” She asked.

He finally managed to reassure her weakly that everything would be fine, even though he wasn’t sure.

It was eight months to her wedding and she was pregnant. Not only was she pregnant, but she didn’t know who the father was. 

What if the baby looked like Ifeanyi? She thought. What would she do then? Boma would notice and kick her out. And what if Ifeanyi doesn’t want the child? She would be the single mother who had a child for her cousin and was rejected by both her fiancé and cousin. Her head was exploding. She felt guilt for what she had done to herself.

The months passed by and the date to their wedding was near. Final preparations had kicked in. Boma was excited that he was getting married to the best woman in the world and becoming a father. The thought of it all gladdened his heart.

Dumebi, on the other hand, was overwhelmed. She tried to focus on the joy of her wedding day but couldn’t. She was constantly tortured by the thought of Ifeanyi coming to her wedding and announcing that he was the father of her baby, which led to the phone call she placed to him two weeks before the wedding. 

“Ifeanyi,” she didn’t know what his response would be.

“Listen Ifeanyi, please I would appreciate it if you don’t show up at my wedding.”

The suddenness of her call surprised him. He had not expected her to call him, much less tell him not to be in attendance at her wedding.

“Ah ahn?” Ifeanyi exclaimed. “But why is that?”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable having you there.”

The two shared a brief moment of silence before Ifeanyi spoke, “But Dumebi, I’ve told everyone I will be there. It’s not like I will make a scene. Besides, people will raise brows if I’m not there.”

“Ifeanyi,” Dumebi pleaded, “I beg you, don’t show up at my wedding. Is that okay? Look, I am sorry for my tone with you but you have to understand. Too many things have happened and I can’t imagine ruining my day with the fear that you will say something.”

“Say what, Dumebi? Say what?” The pitch of his voice was now rising in anger. “That we slept together? Or that you have spent the past few months enjoying lavish gifts from me?”

“Ifeanyi!” Dumebi cried, “that’s not fair.” 

Already seething with anger, Ifeanyi didn’t speak until he had gathered himself.

“It’s fine, Dumebi. I’ve heard you. I will leave town too if that will make you feel better.”

“It will, please,” Dumebi said without hesitating, and they ended the call.

Their wedding was very organised with two hundred guests in attendance. Everyone had their names placed on the tables on Dumebi’s insistence that the wedding would be strictly by invitation. As she convinced Boma, she said she wanted an intimate wedding with family and friends that they both knew; what she did not tell him was that she didn’t want to take any risks.

But she didn’t have to worry; Ifeanyi kept to his word.

Two months later, Dumebi’s baby boy made a grand entrance into the world. Her heart had raced throughout the ordeal as she endured labour pangs alongside thoughts of who the father of her baby was. Her blood pressure was so high that the doctors had to take her to the theatre for an emergency caesarean section.

When her doctor placed him in her arms, she cried in relief because her baby looked exactly like her. He had her nose, eyes, and mouth. Neither Boma nor Ifeanyi had anything on him. When Boma came into the ward where she had been moved to, he carried the baby and held him close to his chest.

“My son,” he called him, filled with emotions. Then, he turned to Dumebi. “My love, thank you for this gift. I promise not to let you both down,” and he kissed her on her forehead.

Visitors came in for most of the first two weeks, all saying Dumebi’s genes were strong, which was a relief because she didn’t have to explain why her baby looked like another man. 

A few days later, Ifeanyi called Dumebi and asked how his boy was doing.

“He is not your boy Ifeanyi. Please, don’t do this.”

“Okay. I have just one request.”

“What is that?”

“Do a DNA test.”

Panicked, Dumebi called out, “Ifeanyi… Ifeanyi why are you doing this? Why?”

Dumebi began to cry. “Please Ifeanyi, stay away so we can move on with our lives.”

But Ifeanyi kept insisting on a test. Distraught, Dumebi confided in her friend, wondering what she would do and how she would conceal a paternity test from Boma.

A few days later, Ifeanyi called again, this time sounding a bit sober. 

“Nne I’m sorry for my reaction. It’s just that since you came to my hotel room to say you were pregnant, the thought of having a child with you has filled my mind. But I’ve chosen not to be selfish. I just have one request.”

“What is it this time Ifeanyi?” Dumebi asked, exhausted.

“I want to give him an Ibo name, and I want it to be one of his middle names.”

She thought about it for a moment and agreed.

Onyebunnam was the name; meaning WHO IS MY FATHER.