Under no circumstances was I to look beneath the bed or attempt to clean that space, because something sacred rested there.
He said his late grandfather buried an important family artifact under that exact spot many years ago to preserve wealth and marital stability.
He stroked my cheek gently while explaining, saying if any wife ever saw what was hidden there, disaster would follow immediately.
I laughed nervously at first, assuming he was exaggerating or teasing me with cultural superstition meant to impress a new bride.
But his face remained serious, calm, and steady, and something about his tone discouraged further questions from forming inside my mouth.
I agreed without argument because it seemed like a small sacrifice compared to the comfort and security I had gained through marriage.
From that day forward, he personally swept our bedroom every Saturday morning without allowing the housekeepers to enter while he cleaned.
He would lock the door, move quietly inside for nearly thirty minutes, then emerge sweating slightly but smiling as if satisfied.
Whenever I asked playfully what exactly he did under there, he would kiss my forehead and remind me gently of the rule.
I stopped asking after the second month because love sometimes means choosing peace over curiosity in a new home.
Life continued beautifully on the surface, filled with dinners at expensive restaurants and weekend trips that made my friends envy me openly.
Obinna bought me jewelry often, heavy gold pieces and glittering stones that caught attention whenever I attended social gatherings.
He enjoyed showing me off publicly, holding my waist proudly and introducing me as his beautiful, obedient wife.
