The Velvet Trap - by Big Dee

The wedding video began with that song. Elvis Presley’s voice, smooth as local honey, filled the reception hall: "Wise men say, only fools rush in..." I was twenty, a girl with ribbons still metaphorically in her hair, looking up at him like he was the sun. He was twelve years older, a widower who had lost his first wife early, a man who spoke of God but lived for himself. In Lagos where younger men seemed like drifting kites, unserious and empty-handed, he was the anchor. My mother’s shop was failing, the landlord was knocking, and his bank balance looked like a lifeboat. I didn't think I could find better; I thought I was simply finding safety. My mother wept with joy as he cleared our debts. "You have found a king," she whispered. I believed her. I rushed in, heart-first, into a palace I didn't know was a cage. The "Man of my Dreams" didn't arrive all at once. He arrived in pieces. He arrived the night he threw my birth control pills into the lagoon because "a true wife doesn't deny her husband’s legacy." He arrived when he told me my university degree was just a "decoration" for his living room, a certificate to be filed away beneath his trophies. "Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?" Elvis sang from the record player every Sunday. I pondered on that. Is it a sin to want to breathe? He treated my youth like a resource to be mined, not a life to be lived. He wanted a girl he could mold because he was too broken to handle a woman who could think. He thought my silence was "shyness." He thought my obedience was "virtue." He didn't realize that while I was washing his feet, I was measuring the distance to the front door. Last night, he reached for me, humming that same velvet tune, expecting the girl who rushed in three years ago out of desperation. I looked at him...really looked at him and saw only a tired, small man holding a broken scepter. I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I simply tucked my passport into the lining of my bag. I had paid back every kobo of the "safety" he bought me with three years of my soul. Elvis was right. I was a fool to rush in. He was also right... would it be a sin, if I was tired of staying? But I am a woman now, and a woman knows that a dream you can't wake up from is actually a haunting. And it wouldn't be a sin to want to breathe... would it? The music has stopped. I am finally wide awake. <h4> </h4>PS: This music was successfully used thanks to @Cyrus Majebi for helping see to the technical issue..😩 I cried eh.. and was so frustrated. Y'all should just contribute tips for me to get calming maltina🤧

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