It didn't take long... Saturday arrived. Tensed faces everything, the air dull with unspoken words..
The day is going to be terribly long. Funke,seated next to her mother, snuggling to her so bad signs filled the room
"Funke...." An elderly man presumed to be her father started
"There's always one thing I've been saying since the time of old!"....his eyes demand an answer
"Patience is virtue!"...women in the room chorused
He continued on how she should remain patience and honest with her husband. He added on how her husband had reported on her non chalant attitude as of late. He decided to keep quiet and observe.
"But... he's cheating on me papa!".... funke,unable to bear it cried out
"Oh really... where's your evidence? What have you done that made him cheat?".... His eyes thunders in anger
"So cheating is justified?".... Aduni unable to keep silent rebutted
"Don't talk when I'm talking you brat!".... The room stiffened after the insult.
Not because anyone was shocked but because everyone knew what came next.
Aduni did not apologize.
She leaned back slowly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, her face calm in the way that made older people more uncomfortable than shouting ever could.
Funke's sobbing softened into quiet sniffles beside their mother, who sat frozen hands clasped, eyes lowered the posture of a woman who had spent years surviving storms by pretending she was furniture.
Their father inhaled deeply, the sound heavy, theatrical.
"Aduni," he said, voice low with warning, "you have been talking too much these days."
Aduni tilted her head slightly. "I only talk when silence becomes dangerous, sir."
A murmur passed through the women seated around the room. One aunt shifted. Another shook her head slowly.
Their father ignored them. "This is exactly the problem with this generation of women," he continued. "No endurance. No patience. Marriage is not enjoyment. It is management."
Aduni nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes," she said. "Management of disrespect. Management of betrayal. Management of other women's perfumes on your husband's clothes."
The room went still. "Aduni!" their mother whispered sharply, finally lifting her head. "Enough."
But Aduni's eyes had already moved to her.
"Mummy," she said quietly, almost gently, "how long have you been managing?"
The question did not sound like an attack.
That was what made it worse. Their mother's lips parted. Nothing came out.
Their father's palm struck the arm of his chair. "You are crossing your boundaries!" he thundered. "Is this how you speak to your mother? The woman that carried you?"
Aduni's voice remained calm. "I am speaking to the woman that disappeared."
Gasps filled the room.
Funke began crying again, harder this time.
Their father stood up.
"You think marriage is a joke? You think you know better than elders? Your sister's husband complained that she has changed she is disrespectful, distant, not attentive and instead of advising her to correct herself, you are encouraging rebellion!"
Aduni gave a small, humorless smile.
"So when a man cheats, the wife should improve her customer service?"
One of the aunties covered her mouth.
"ADUNI!" her father roared.
But she was no longer looking at him.
She was looking at Funke. "Did he deny it?" Aduni asked quietly.
Funke shook her head weakly. "No."
"Did he apologize?" Aduni continued
Silence.
Aduni nodded once.
Then she faced their father again. "And the solution," she said, "is patience."
Her father's voice dropped, dangerous. "You will not bring this feminist nonsense into my house."
Aduni leaned forward.
"This house already has nonsense, sir. I'm only naming it."
For a moment, it looked like he might strike her, her mother rose quickly.
"Please," she said, voice trembling. "Aduni, just stop. Let peace reign." Aduni looked at her for a long time.
There was no anger in her face anymore, only something heavier.
"I never wanted to be like you," she said softly. The words landed harder than any shout.
Their mother froze.
Aduni continued, her voice steady.
"I never wanted to learn how to swallow pain and call it peace. I never wanted to clap for endurance when what we're really enduring is disrespect. I never wanted to teach my daughters that their value is measured by how much suffering they can endure"
The room was silent now.
Even the aunties were no longer murmuring. She turned slightly toward Funke.
"And I definitely never wanted to become a woman who thinks a cheating husband is a test from God instead of a problem with consequences." Funke lowered her face into her hands.
Their father laughed, short, cold.
"This is pride talking," he said. "And pride destroys women. Let me tell you something, Aduni. A woman who cannot endure will not keep a home. And a woman without a home will suffer in this life."
Aduni met his gaze.
"Maybe," she said. Then, after a pause
"But a woman who endures everything eventually disappears."
No one spoke.
The air in the room had changed.
The conversation was no longer about Funke's marriage.
It was about something older. Something inherited.
Something none of the women in the room suddenly felt comfortable defending.
Their father sat down slowly, his expression hard. "You are becoming stubborn," he said. "And stubborn women end up alone."
Aduni nodded. "I'd rather be alone," she replied quietly, "than be present in a life where I don't exist."
Funke's crying filled the silence again.
And this time, for the first time since the meeting began, one of the aunties did not tell her to be patient.
She only sighed.
The meeting didn't continued as planned, silence filled the room... Aduni with so much satisfaction left the room with a smirk on her face.