**At 6:00 AM, the alarm clock on the nightstand emitted a piercing sound that felt like a drill pressing into the temple. Ordinarily, this was the cue for the Great Grudge. the heavy-limbed crawl toward the shower, the frantic search for ironed work clothes, and the mental rehearsal of excuses for why the quarterly reports were delayed.
Ada did not groan. She smiled.
She lay completely still, her eyes tracing the familiar cracks in the ceiling, savoring the profound silence of a house that wasn't rushing anywhere. There was no fear of the Third Mainland Bridge crawl, no phantom scent of exhaust fumes, and no mental checklist of emails to delete. Instead of the tight knot of worry that usually coiled in her chest on weekdays that physical weight she had mistaken for a personality trait there was a spacious, light feeling.
It was the lightness of a woman who had finally said "No" to the office so she could say "Yes" to herself. This was her secret victory, a quiet rebellion measured in the rhythm of her own steady breathing.
**She sat up, the silk of her nightgown sliding against the sheets. Today was the Owambe.
In the corner of the room, hanging from the closet like a vibrant, dormant deity, was the Aso-ebi. The lace was a deep, regal green, embroidered with gold thread that seemed to catch the morning light even in the shadows. Beside it sat the Gele, a stiff, architectural crown of fabric waiting to be defied and won.
Last week, her manager had hinted and then insisted on a "Saturday strategy session." Ada had watched her friends nod like bobbleheads, their faces gray with fatigue. She had simply checked her calendar and answered, "I have a prior engagement of national importance.
The "national importance" was the 60th birthday of Chief Ajayi, but more importantly, it was Ada's return to the world of the living.
By 10:00 AM, the house was no longer quiet. It was filled with the smell of burnt hair and expensive perfume.
The makeup artist, a young girl with hands as calm as a surgeon's, was buffing foundation into Ada's skin. "Aunty, your face is so relaxed today," the girl commented, tilting Ada's chin. "Usually, I have to fight the frown lines between your brows."
"The frown is on leave," Ada whispered, closing her eyes.
As the layers of the Owambe change began,the sharp flick of eyeliner, the bold crimson of the lip, the intricate pleating of the Gele the "spacious feeling" in her chest expanded. She wasn't just putting on a costume; she was putting on protection.
When Ada finally stepped out of her front door, the sun was at its peak, turning the world into a high-definition stage. She moved carefully, the heavy lace whispering against her legs, her head held high to balance the weight of her headtie.
The neighborhood was noisy with generators running and children shouting but it didn't grate on her nerves as it usually did. She felt protected by her own glow. She climbed into her car, not to head toward a gray office, but toward a sea of music, jollof rice, and the rhythmic clinking of gold bangles.
The knot was gone. The day was hers. As she turned the key in the ignition, Ada caught her image in the rearview mirror. The woman looking back wasn't the tired employee of Chapter One. She was a guest of honor in her own life.