26/12/2024
It was the first week of December, and the air in Abuja carried a soft, lazy chill. The streets of Wooseh were already dressed up for Christmas, with strings of lights dangling over buildings and plastic Santas waving awkwardly from shopfronts. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in gold and orange as Juliet Okonkwo parked her car outside her best friend’s flat.
Inside, Ngozi was already waiting with a mischievous grin plastered across her face.
“My dear Juliet, explain to me again why you agreed to this foolishness called ‘Twelve Dates of Christmas?’” Ngozi said, arms folded, face full of exaggerated concern.
Juliet sat down on the sofa. “First of all, it’s not foolishness. It’s a ‘holiday adventure.’”
Ngozi snorted. “Holiday adventure ke? Because you want to go on twelve dates with twelve random men just because of a silly bet with your cousin? Juliet, fear God.”
Juliet rolled her eyes. “Ngozi, you don’t understand. My aunty and her daughters have turned family gatherings into competition grounds. Every year, they flaunt their achievements—fiancées, expensive rings, even white boyfriends—while my mother is left looking like she didn’t raise me well.”
Ngozi leaned forward on her seat. “Aww. Poor you. But wait—what’s the bet again?”
Juliet sighed, already regretting sharing the gist. “If I show up single again this Christmas, I’ll wash toilets for the whole festive season AND pay Ardar Ezeh one thousand dollars.”
Ngozi’s mouth fell open. “Toilet duties? Plus one thousand dollars? Juliet, you agreed to this madness? What were you drinking that day?”
“Ngozi, it’s not just about the money. My reputation is at stake.”
Ngozi smirked. “Abeg, your good girl reputation is overrated. If you had been coming out more often instead of locking yourself in your apartment like a retired grandmother, maybe you would have found a man by now.”
Juliet raised a sarcastic brow. “Oh, you mean following you to clubs where men are ‘sowing their wild oats’ like farmers preparing for harvest?”
Ngozi burst into laughter. “You’re impossible, Juliet! So where are you finding these twelve men? You went to the village square to collect applications?”
Juliet smiled smugly. “It’s an elite matchmaking app. Very serious men—vetted and verified.”
“Vetted and verified?” Ngozi mimicked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Juliet, let me guess. You’ll meet the first guy, and he’ll tell you he’s a ‘businessman,’ but he’ll refuse to explain what business he’s doing.”
Juliet ignored her, pretending to scroll on her phone. The truth was, this whole “adventure” still felt ridiculous to her. But she couldn’t forget last Christmas in the east. The family reunion had been more like a grand showcase.
Ardar Ezeh, Juliet’s cousin, had walked in like a queen with her multimillionaire fiancé and her diamond ring that could blind a bird. She went straight to Juliet, wiggling her fingers so much it was a miracle the ring didn’t fly off.
“Juliet, my dear,” Ardar Ezeh had said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “See what God has done for me. Don’t worry, He’ll remember you one day.”
Juliet had smiled sarcastically. “Ardar Ezeh, let’s not lie to ourselves. God had nothing to do with this your so called miracle. You and I know what you are really doing in Abuja. Just thank God that your hustle finally paid off.”
Ardar Ezeh laughed, unbothered. “Before nko? Hustle must pay. I’m even offering to help you hustle too. I’ll hook you up with a rich man.”
“Thank you, Aunty Hook-Up,” Juliet had replied sharply. “I can find my own man, abeg.”
That was when Ardar Ezeh’s mischievous side emerged. “Ehn? Let’s make a bet. If you come back next Christmas with a boyfriend, I’ll give you one thousand dollars. But if you’re still single, you’ll wash all the toilets and pay me.”
Juliet had accepted the challenge without thinking. Pride had pushed her. Now, sitting in Ngozi’s living room, reality was slapping her.
Ngozi clapped her hands loudly, pulling Juliet back to the present. “So, when is the first date?”
Juliet glanced at her phone and sighed. “Tomorrow. They’ve already sent his details.”
Ngozi grinned like a child who had just been promised candy. “Ehen? I can’t wait to hear the gist! Even if you don’t find love, at least I’ll get premium entertainment from your suffering.”
Juliet threw a pillow at her. “You’re very wicked, you know?”
“Wicked but honest,” Ngozi shot back, laughing.
Juliet leaned back into the sofa and let out a long breath. The bet had started as a moment of pride, but now, a tiny part of her wondered if some miracle might actually happen. Abuja was full of surprises, after all.
Ngozi, who had gone to check her cooking, called out dramatically from the kitchen, “Twelve men in twenty-five days? Juliet, just pray you don’t meet somebody’s husband by mistake.”
Juliet groaned loudly. “Ngozi!”
From the kitchen, Ngozi’s voice rang out. “I’m just saying o! Abuja husbands have PhD in disguise.”
Juliet buried her face in her hands, laughing despite herself. If nothing else, she was sure of one thing—this December would not be boring.
CONTINUE HERE:
This is an African folktale video for lovers of African Tales. In this African folktale video, Juliet must find a boyfriend before Christmas or suffer the co...
