The Choice of Munachi

That evening, as I carried a basket of feed to the poultry yard, I heard the prince’s voice behind me.

“Munachi.”

I froze. I didn’t even want to turn around.

“Why are you working here under this hot sun?” he asked softly.

I kept my eyes on the ground. “It’s what the Queen ordered, my Prince,” I replied quietly.

He sighed. “So how do I get to eat the usual ofe nsala (Igbo white soup) you normally prepare for me?”

At that moment, my chest burned with anger. How could he be so insensitive? He didn’t come because he cared. He came because of his stomach. The rich always think the world revolves around them.

“Muna, don’t worry,” he said with a charming smile. “I’ll talk to the Queen on your behalf, so you can continue as my personal chef.”

I stayed silent, pretending not to hear.

He frowned. “I’m talking to you, Munachi. No response?”

“Please, my Prince,” I said finally, turning to face him. “Don’t make things worse for me. Her Royal Majesty already hates me enough.”

Our eyes met briefly, and it felt like the world stopped again. But this time, I looked away first.

A Heartbreaking Encounter

Three days later was my day off from the palace. Finally, I was going to see my boyfriend, Sochima, the only man who made me feel like a queen in my own little world.

The moment I saw him in front of his apartment, I ran toward him with excitement, arms wide open. But instead of hugging me, he pushed me away.

“Sochi, my love, what’s wrong? Did I offend you?” I asked, confused.

He let out a bitter laugh. “You palace prostitute. See where your lack of self-control has landed you.”

I froze. “What… what did you just say?”

“You think I wouldn’t find out? That you’ve been sleeping with the prince? You cheap, common maid!”

My lips trembled. “Sochi, I’m innocent. Please, you have to believe me.” I dropped my handbag and fell to my knees. “Obim, biko… (please, my love).”

Watching the man I loved speak to me that way shattered me completely. My world felt like it was crumbling.

“Leave my house now,” he shouted. “You poor, wretched girl. The prince will never marry someone like you. Get that into your head!”

I wiped my tears and said quietly, “If anyone should call me poor, it shouldn’t be you. Because, Sochima… you and I belong to the same class of poverty.”

I picked up my bag and walked away, heartbroken and numb.

The Weight of Royalty

I spent my entire off day crying, wishing it was all a nightmare. I missed Sochima. I missed his voice, his arms, his love. But it seemed love had turned its back on me.

The next day, I resumed work at the royal poultry farm. I was going about my chores when I heard raised voices.

When I turned, I saw the Queen Mother and Prince Izunna walking toward me, both in anger.

“Izunna, you will not dare disobey me!” the Queen shouted. “This girl must serve her punishment!”

“Mother, I’m starving! I need her to cook for me,” the Prince fired back.

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are other maids in this palace. Why must it be her?” the Queen barked.

My heart pounded. I stood frozen.

The Queen’s eyes fell on me—cold, sharp, filled with rage. She stepped closer. “You’ve succeeded in bewitching my only son, haven’t you? You’ll pay dearly for it.”

Before I could speak, the Prince grabbed my hand. “Come with me to the car immediately,” he commanded. “You’re going to make my favorite soup in my apartment in town.”

“Munachimso!” the Queen Mother shouted behind us. “If you enter that car, consider yourself sacked from this honorable palace!”

The courtyard fell silent. The prince’s grip tightened around my wrist. My heart pounded wildly between fear and confusion.

The Dilemma

Should I obey the prince, who offered me a glimpse of a life beyond servitude, or the Queen, whose wrath could destroy my future?

In that moment, I realized that my choice would shape my destiny. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my decision pressing down on me.

“Your Highness,” I said, my voice trembling but firm, “I cannot betray the Queen. I am loyal to my duties, no matter how painful they may be.”

The prince’s expression softened, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Then you choose this life?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I choose my honor,” I replied, feeling a sense of peace wash over me.

As I turned to walk away from the prince, I knew I had made the right choice. I would find my strength, even in the shadows of the palace. My heart still ached for Sochima, but I would not let the prince’s world consume me. I would carve my own path, one step at a time.

And so, I walked back to the poultry yard, determined to reclaim my dignity and my dreams.