"No, I can't—"
"He can't—"
Chibuzor and Olaedo spoke at the same time.
That earned them an even deeper suspicious look. Amy's eyes narrowed, scanning them like a hawk spotting a two headed squirrel.
"Hmm," she murmured, voice slow and measured. "Something is happening here. And I intend to find out what."
Olaedo and Chibuzor exchanged a glance, part panic, part silent agreement that this day was rapidly escalating into a disaster of couture proportions.
One second passed.
Then two.
And then three.
Amy kept staring at them like a detective watching suspects contradict their alibis. She let out a dramatic sigh and marched toward Olaedo like a fashion therapist on a mission.
"Darling," she began, in the tone adults used when explaining the impossible to children, "I understand you're shy. But he's your husband now. Till death do you two part. Sooner or later, this kind of thing is going to happen. And it's not like it hasn't happened many times already."
