Zikora

by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

What did “It’s time to get married” mean, anyway? Why did she have to marry at all?

“Yes,” I said, but I didn’t question whether it was real, because I knew it was. I questioned where it had gone. How could emotions just change? Where did it go, the thing that used to be?

never told the boy who didn’t love me, the boy I was trying to make love me when I didn’t yet know that you cannot nice your way into being loved.

We told and retold each other stories from our past lives, until we felt as though we had been there.

It was my father who destroyed, and it was my mother I blamed for the ruins left behind.