The fourth day of the wedding arrived with the scent of fresh blossoms and the sound of victory.
Sunlight streamed through the white canopies like golden rivers, casting warm halos around the guests gathered in the courtyard. The air smelled of roasted plantain, jasmine oil, and the sacred incense the priestesses had burned that morning to cleanse the compound.
Anna stepped outside for the first time since her fever broke, she wore an emerald green wrapper with golden embroidery, the traditional coral beads resting proudly across her neck and wrists, her steps were slow, but sure, her smile was tired, but true.
And when she turned and saw Idris dressed in a white agbada with green lining to match her, his face radiant with pride and love her heart swelled.
She had survived.
They had survived.
The elders gathered beneath the archway of tradition as the final rites of union began. This was the Day of the Vow, when the couple stood before their ancestors and bound their hearts not just in flesh, but in spirit.
Drummers pounded softly in the background.
A priestess in white stood between them, holding kola nuts, palm wine, and a carved staff passed down through generations.
"Do you, Idris, son of Abiola and Miriam, vow to protect, provide for, and honor this woman before you, even when storms come, even when darkness whispers?"
"I do," Idris said, voice steady. "And I will do more than vow i will live it."
The crowd sighed in admiration.
The priestess turned to Anna.
"Do you, Anna, daughter of Nkem and Agatha, vow to love, strengthen, and walk beside this man not behind, not ahead but beside, in every season of life?"
"I do," Anna said, eyes shimmering. "And I vow to see him… truly… even when the world tries to look away."
They drank the wine.
Broke the kola.
And kissed, to the thunder of drums, applause, and ululation that filled the air like a sky tearing open with joy.
That night, under lanterns strung from every tree, the celebration soared.
Anna and Idris danced beneath the stars, barefoot in the dust, surrounded by family, friends, music, and magic.
Children ran around with sparklers.
Elders shared stories.
The past was gone.
Bela had disappeared vanished into her own exile, never heard from again. Some say she went abroad. Others whispered of curses finally claiming her. But neither Idris nor Anna spent a moment more chasing those shadows.
Years later, in a cozy home outside Ontario, with snow dusting the windowpanes, Anna leaned back on their living room couch, holding a child to her chest a boy with Idris's deep eyes and her gentle smile.
Idris walked in from the kitchen, carrying tea and a small, carved wooden box.
"What's that?" she asked.
He opened it.
Inside were two things:
The photo of their wedding day.
And the small feather he had once found on his pillow, long ago.
She stared at it, silent.
He looked at her and smiled.
"I kept it," he said. "Not out of fear. But as a reminder."
"A reminder of what?"
"That love is stronger. Always."
Outside, the wind blew gently.
But inside, in their warm little world, there was nothing left to fear.
Just two hearts that had found each other in the ashes and built something beautiful from it.
The end.