One thing I’ve learned in my years as a wedding planner is this: the bigger the wedding, the bigger the secrets.

Today’s wedding was one of those high-society affairs where the family names alone could open bank vaults. The bride, Sade, was the only daughter of a billionaire oil magnate, whose groom, Jide, came from a respected political dynasty. It was a perfect match on paper. Two powerful families preparing to unite in a grand, televised celebration. Everything was going smoothly until…

I was overseeing the final touches on the floral arch when my assistant, Mary, rushed toward me, her face a mask of urgency.
“Aunty Bisi, there’s a problem,” she whispered, her eyes darting toward the entrance.
I sighed. “Mary, we always have problems. Be specific.”
She swallowed hard. “There’s a woman at the gate causing a scene. She says she’s carrying the groom’s baby.”
I froze mid-step. “Excuse me?”
“She’s shouting that she’s pregnant for Jide and won’t let this wedding hold.”

Of course.

I smoothed down my dress, straightened my shoulders, and made my way toward the entrance. The security team had already formed a barrier around the woman, but I could hear her voice clear as day.
“I’m not leaving until Jide comes out here! He promised me marriage before this yeye engagement!”

I sized her up. She was stunning, her long curly weave falling over an expensive-looking dress. Definitely not a random troublemaker. No, this one had receipts.

I motioned for security to ease up and walked toward her with my best professional smile.
“Madam, please calm down. This is not the time or place…”
She turned to me sharply. “Who are you?”
“The wedding planner.”
She scoffed. “Then go and get your groom. He has unfinished business.”
I inhaled deeply and glanced at the security team. “Escort her to a private lounge,” I instructed them. “Give her water. No cameras, no social media.”

They nodded and led her away. As soon as they were out of earshot, I grabbed my phone and dialled the groom’s best man, Tunde. He picked up on the first ring.
“Tunde, where is your guy?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.
“Ah, Bisi, we’re just about to leave the hotel.”
“You need to come here alone first,” I said. “We have an issue.”
“Kilode?”
“Your boy’s side chick is here. And she’s claiming pregnancy.”
Silence.
Then, “Ah.”
“Ah is not a solution, Tunde.”
“Okay, okay. I’m on my way.”

Fifteen minutes later, Tunde arrived, sweating despite the air conditioning being on full blast. I led him to the private lounge where the woman was seated, arms folded, her expression a mix of rage and heartbreak.

“Jide has been with me for three years,” she snapped as soon as she saw Tunde. “We were together last weekend!”
Tunde ran a hand over his face. “Ah, Cynthia, this is not the time.”
“No, this is exactly the time!” she shot back. “He wants to marry another woman while I’m carrying his child?”

Mary, who had been standing quietly in the corner, whispered to me, “This wedding fit scatter.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I leaned in and spoke to Cynthia gently. “What do you want?”
She hesitated. “I want him to own up. If he wants to marry her, fine. But he will not deny me or this baby.”

Tunde quickly texted Jide, and within minutes, the groom arrived. He walked in looking condemned and ashamed.
“Cynthia,” he said, breathing hard.
“Don’t Cynthia me,” she snapped. “Tell the truth.”
Jide swallowed hard. “Babe, I…”
I cleared my throat and spoke calmly. “Jide, let’s be practical here. Your wedding starts in an hour. What do you want to do?”
He looked at me, then at Cynthia. “Please, just let me handle this after today.”
Cynthia smirked. “Oh no, my dear. I want you to handle it now.”
Just then, the door opened, and we all turned to see who it was.

It was Sade. The bride.

She stood there, calm, regal, and utterly unreadable. “Cynthia,” she said smoothly.
“How far along are you?”
Cynthia blinked. “What?”
“How pregnant are you?”
“Four months.”
Sade nodded. “And you’re sure it’s Jide’s?”
Cynthia scoffed. “You think I’d be here embarrassing myself if it wasn’t?”

Another pause.
Sade smiled.

“Then congratulations,” she said, walking over and taking Cynthia’s hand. “You should be resting, not causing a scene.”
Cynthia’s bravado faltered. “I… what?”
Sade turned to Jide. “You will take responsibility for her and the baby. But we are still getting married today.”

Jide’s jaw dropped.
Tunde coughed.
Even I was speechless.

Sade turned to me. “Bisi, please make sure she’s taken care of. And get my father’s lawyers on standby.” And just like that, she walked out, head held high.

Cynthia slumped into her chair, stunned. “Did I just lose?”
Mary exhaled beside me. “Omo, this bride get sense.”
I turned to Cynthia. “Would you like another bottle of water?”
She shook her head.
“Then I suggest you go home and rest.”

Cynthia left. The wedding went on. And Jide?

Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be surprised if he started sleeping with one eye open.

 

 

 

 

Thank you all for reading Tolulope Popoola’s Lagos Flash Fiction Series. If you wish to read more, you can do so here.