Poor Village Girl Was Forced To Marry A Poor Man, Unaware He Is A Crown Prince

Juka’s eyes were focused, determined, and honest as he spoke. “Mama Ujuna, I have come to seek Ujunwa’s hand in marriage. I may not be rich, but I am hardworking, and I will take care of her.” For a few seconds, there was complete silence in the compound. Even the breeze seemed to pause, waiting for what would happen next.

 “Then, like thunder cracking the sky, Mama Ujuna exploded into laughter.” “Chim!” She clapped her hands loudly. Did I hear well? Did my ears deceive me? A common fisherman wants to marry my daughter. Wonders shall never end in this village. Her daughter Ujininoa stood behind her. Look at you, Chuka. Mama Ujunwa continued, her eyes traveling from Chuka’s worn out slippers to his torn shirt.

 What do you have? A broken canoe and an empty pocket? My daughter will marry a prince, not a porpa smelling of fish. Unwa clicked her tongue. You have no shame, Chuka. Don’t you know who I am? I cannot stoop so low to marry a wretched man like you. The words hit Chuka like stones. But he stood still, his shoulders squared. He had heard whispers about Ujinwa’s arrogance, but he had hoped that beneath her beauty there would be humility.

 He was wrong. Chuka took a deep breath and bowed his head slightly. I understand, Mama. I will take my leave. But Mama Ujunwa wasn’t finished. She turned around sharply and called out, “Kioma, Koma, come here.” From the corner of the compound, a slim girl with a tired face and sad eyes walked forward, her broom still in her hand.

 Her dress was faded, her feet dusty, and her hands rough from years of labor. She was beautiful, more beautiful than Ujunwa. But her beauty was hidden beneath suffering and silence. Chioma stopped a few feet away, avoiding eye contact, her heart pounding. She knew nothing good ever came from her stepmother, calling her like this.

 Mama Ujuna sneered and pointed at her. Since you are looking for a wife, Chukka, and you think you can enter my house empty-handed and take my daughter here? She waved her hand dismissively. Take Chioma. She is available. She is nobody’s child. You can marry her. After all, one wretched person deserves another. GMO was shocked.

 She felt her knees wobble as shame crawled up her skin. Chuka lifted his eyes and looked at Chimo properly for the first time, and what he saw made his chest tighten. Her beauty was different. It was hidden, gentle, like a flower struggling to grow in the middle of thorns. But beyond her physical beauty, there was sadness in her eyes.

 He shifted his gaze back to Mama Ujunwa. “Is she your daughter?” “She’s my late husband’s child,” Mama Ujinwa said coldly. “Her mother died giving birth to her, and her father followed her shortly after. I’ve been the one carrying her useless load since she was a baby. She has nothing, Mama Ujinoa added wickedly.

 No family, no money, no beauty compared to my Ujininoa. If you must marry from this house, carry her and go. Chuka remained silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on Chioma. She didn’t dare to look up. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to fall. Suddenly, Chuka spoke quietly but firmly. I will marry her.

 Joma’s head snapped up in shock. She stared at Chuka like he had just spoken a foreign language. Mama Ujuna burst out laughing again. Ah, Chai, it’s true what they say. Poor people like to gather together. Fisherman and housegirl. Perfect match. Ujuna hissed and walked away without sparing Chuka another glance.

 Chuka stepped closer to Chioma, lowering his voice. I will come back in three market days to see your people. Mama Ujuna, prepare her. Before anyone could say another word, Chuka walked away. Chioma stood still, unable to move. Her ears were ringing, her heart racing. She had never imagined her life would turn out like this.

 All her life, she had dreamed of freedom, of escaping Mama’s cruelty. But now freedom looked like a prison wrapped in marriage to a man she didn’t know. That night, Kioma sat outside under the mango tree, crying silently. What she didn’t know was that fate had already begun to weave a story far bigger than her tears. A story that would shake the entire village of Anoma.

 Chuka had moved to Anom village 6 months earlier. He claimed to have returned to his maternal home for greener pasture. He settled quickly and began fishing, but he wasn’t so lucky, and so he caught very little fish, which made him poor. The agreed date arrived too quickly, and Chuka arrived at the compound dressed in a simple clo. He came with two elders.

 They carried a small keg of palm wine, some tubers of yam, and a token of money for the traditional knocking on the door. Mama Ujuna welcomed them with fake smiles. She had invited her husband’s younger brother before they came. They all sat down and performed the formalities and Mama Ujun were all the while making sarcastic comments.

 Doma stood quietly behind the kitchen wall listening as her life was traded without her consent. No one asked how she felt. No one cared. The marriage date was fixed for the next market day just 3 days away. Mama UA wasted no time. As soon as the guests left, she turned to Choma. You will marry Chuka whether you like it or not.

I don’t want to see your face in this house anymore. You’re nothing but a burden. 3 days passed in a blur. The traditional marriage right was nothing grand. No drums, no dancing, no village feast, just a few elders, the exchange of palm wine, and quiet prayers muttered under the bayab tree. Chioma wore a simple wrapper and a blouse borrowed from one of the village girls.

 There was no joy in her eyes, no smile on her lips. When Chuka came forward and took her hand, she barely looked at him. She felt empty inside, like someone walking into the darkness without knowing what awaited her. As they walked to his small compound by the riverside after the ceremony, the village women whispered behind them, “What a pity! She will suffer.

 A poor fisherman’s wife, no better than being a slave.” Chuka remained quiet, not saying much as they walked. He glanced at Kioma from time to time, noticing how withdrawn she was, how she refused to meet his eyes. When they arrived at his house, a small mud house with a thatched roof and a bamboo fence, he opened the door and stepped aside. You can come in.

 Chioma stepped in and looked around. The house was small but neat. A mat was spread on the floor, a clay pot of water in one corner, a lantern hanging by the wall. “This is your home now,” Chuka said quietly. “I know you didn’t choose this marriage. I know you don’t know me, but I promise I will never hurt you.

” Chioma stood still, tears pooling in her eyes again. She wanted to speak, but words failed her. Chuka gave her space, leaving her to settle in while he went outside to mend his fishing nets. He worked quietly, glancing back at the house every now and then. That night, Chioma lay awake, crying uncontrollably all through.

 Chuka tried to console her to no avail. Days turned into weeks. The first days of Ki’s marriage to Chalker felt like walking through a strange dream, one she couldn’t wake up from. She moved around the small compound like a visitor, quiet and withdrawn, carrying out her chores without being told, but never smiling, never laughing.

 She expected shouts. She expected beatings. She expected insults the way Mama Junwa had always treated her, but none came. Instead, what she received was kindness. Chuka woke up before dawn every morning and went to the river to fish. When he returned tired and drenched in sweat, he would always stop by the small market to buy Chioma a little gift.

 He never raised his voice at her. He never forced himself on her. He never treated her like a burden. Instead, he treated her like she mattered. One evening, Chioma was fetching water from the clay pot outside when Chuka approached her quietly. He stood at a distance, not wanting to startle her. “Jioma,” he said gently.

 She turned, her eyes meeting his briefly before looking away. I want you to know something, he continued. I didn’t marry you because I pied you. I didn’t marry you because I wanted a slave. I married you because the first time I looked into your eyes, I saw a woman worth loving. Chiomar’s heart skipped. She didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever spoken to her like that before.

 He smiled softly and added, “I know you don’t love me yet. I won’t force you. All I want is a chance to make you happy.” That night, Chiar couldn’t sleep. She lay awake thinking about Chuka’s words. No one had ever wanted to make her happy. In the following weeks, Chuka continued to show her the kind of love she had never known.

 He taught her how to paddle the canoe, how to mend fishing nets. He made her laugh without even realizing it, like when he fell into the river trying to catch a stubborn fish and came out shivering, looking like a wet goat. Slowly, without even knowing, Jama began to change. She started waiting for him at the riverbank when he returned from fishing.

 She began cooking his favorite meals even when he didn’t ask. She started watching him with soft eyes when he wasn’t looking. One evening while they sat outside under the mango tree, the moon shining down like a soft lamp, Chioma broke the silence. Chuka, she called out softly. He turned to her quickly, surprised that she spoke first.

 “Yes, I want to thank you for treating me like a human being. All my life, no one ever treated me well. You are the first person to make me feel seen.” Chuka’s heart melted. He reached out slowly, gently taking her hand. You deserve more, Chioma. You deserve the whole world. Their eyes met under the moonlight, and for the first time since they married, Chioma smiled at him.

 That night, as she lay beside him on the mat, she turned slightly towards him and whispered, “I love you.” He smiled in the darkness, “I love you, too, my wife.” They made out as couples for the first time since their marriage. Bit by bit, Gioma started falling in love with her husband. About 3 months after their marriage, there was a loud beat of royal drums in the village.

Everyone was surprised because in Anyama, when the royal drums sounded outside of a festival day, it meant one thing, an important announcement from the palace. People gathered quickly at the village square as the king’s royal messenger stepped forward, dressed in red and white rappers, holding a long wooden staff.

 He cleared his throat, his deep voice booming across the crowd. Attention, attention, people of Anoma, gather and listen. The palace brings important news. By the order of his royal majesty, the king. This is the royal decree. The crown prince Obina will return from the city in 2 weeks. Upon his return, a grand ceremony will be held at the palace where he will choose a wife from among the maidens of the kingdom.

 The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps. The young maidens exchanged excited glances, already dreaming of what it would mean to be chosen by the prince. Mama Ujua’s eyes widened, and she immediately grabbed Ujua’s arm. You see, I told you, she whispered, shaking Ujunwa’s arm. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.

 I have always known you were born to become royalty. Ujuna smiled proudly, flipping her long braided hair over her shoulder. No one in this village can match my beauty. As the crowd continued to celebrate and discuss, no one noticed Chuka walking silently past them with his fishing nets slung over his shoulder.

 Chimaya sat quietly outside their small house when he returned, her hands busy peeling cassava. She looked up when she heard his footsteps. “You’re back early,” she said softly. There was an announcement at the square, Chuka replied to the crown prince is returning. He will be choosing a wife. Giomar’s face fell slightly.

 Ah, that’s good news for the maidens, she replied absent- mindedly. For the next few days, the entire village was buzzing. Girls rushed to the Taylor’s shop, sewing the finest rappers and blouses. Mama Ujuna began preparing, buying new beads and oils for Ujuna. She gave Ujuna some money to get beautiful dresses ready for the day.

 While the village was preparing for royalty, Chuka and Chioma’s home remained quiet. On the eve of the ceremony, Mama Ujunwa gathered Ujunwa and three village girls she had hired to help dress her daughter. “You must shine tomorrow,” she said. “You must smile, dance, charm him. We have waited too long for this day.” Ujuna assured her mother that the prince would pick her.

 “After all, I am the most beautiful maiden in the village,” she said with pride. Meanwhile, in the small house by the riverside, Chuka lay awake, staring at the ceiling. “Tomorrow everything would change. Tomorrow the masks would fall. Tomorrow the truth would be revealed.” And he wondered, would Chioma still look at him with the same eyes once she knew who he really was? Would she still love him when she realized he was not just a poor fisherman, but the prince every maiden in Anomo was dreaming of? He was really scared of what the outcome would be, but

he kept calm. The day came and the entire village of Anomo woke up to the sound of drums. The village square was filled with people almost immediately. Women dressed in their finest rappers, adorned with beads and head ties. Men wore their best clothes, too, standing tall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the prince.

 Children ran about, excited to witness something they would talk about for years. At the center of it all, Mama Ujuna stood like a queen, supervising everything, making sure no speck of dust touched her daughter. Ujuna stood beside her, dressed in the most expensive lace wrapper they could afford. Her skin glistened, her face painted perfectly, her eyes sharp and confident.

 “Today is your day,” Mama Ujuna whispered to her daughter. “You will not come back to the house as an ordinary girl. You will return as the future queen.” Ujinua smiled proudly. “No one can compete with me today.” Other maidens also were elegantly dressed and hopeful. Far away by the riverbank, Kioma prepared a simple meal of yam and palm oil.

 She could hear the drums from the palace square, but she paid them no attention. She had no business with royalty, no place in the gathering. Her life was here with chuka, simple and quiet. She had woken up that morning feeling strangely happy. She didn’t know why, but her heart felt light, almost like she was expecting something good without knowing what it was.

Chuka, on the other hand, was unusually quiet. He barely ate. He sat outside under the mango tree, staring at the sky like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. When Tiama came out to sit beside him, she noticed the way he kept looking towards the village. “Are you not going to the square?” she asked.

Chuka smiled faintly. “No, my place is here.” Kioma blushed lightly and looked away. Her heart danced at his words, though she didn’t fully understand why. At the palace square, the atmosphere was electric. The king sat on his golden throne, elders and chiefs gathered around him. Then the royal gong sounded.

The crown prince had arrived. But when the crowd looked around, they didn’t see anyone. The king’s voice thundered across the square. My people, today is the day my son, Prince Abena, will choose a wife. But before he does, you must know something important. My son returned to this village many moons ago.

 But he did not come as a prince. He came as a common man to live among you, to see with his own eyes, and to find a woman who will love him, not for his crown, but for his heart. Although I didn’t like the idea when he shared it with me, he made me see reasons. You all didn’t recognize him because he had been away for a very long time.

 The entire square fell into shocked silence. People looked at one another confused. The king’s eyes scanned the crowd. “Today you will meet the real prince.” Suddenly, the crowd parted as the king’s guard stepped aside. And there, walking slowly and confidently toward the throne, was Chuka, dressed in fine royal regalia. head high, eyes calm.

 It took a moment for the crowd to recognize him. Gasps filled the air. Ah, it’s Chuka the fisherman. It’s not possible. Chuka is the prince. Mama Ujunwa’s mouth fell open. Her legs trembled. Ujunwa’s face turned pale. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The man they had mocked, rejected, humiliated. He was the prince all along. Chuka stood before his father and bowed deeply. The king stood and embraced him.

“My son,” the king said proudly. “You have chosen wisely.” “Juca turned to the crowd,” his voice strong and clear. “I am sorry for the misinformation. Today, I won’t be choosing a wife. We are here to celebrate my return from the city after so many years of being away studying. There is a lot of food and drinks to go around. Make merry.

 As for a wife, you all know I already found one. She is more valuable than gold. Son, where is she? The king asked. Chuka smiled softly. She is not here. She does not know she is married to a prince. Mama Ujunwa’s heart raced painfully. She grabbed Ujunwa. No, no, this can’t be happening.

 And with that, she collapsed and was rushed out of the palace square. When she regained consciousness, she was full of regrets. Her stepdaughter, the girl she had called useless, the girl she had thrown into the arms of a poor fisherman, was now the prince’s wife. Jinua, sobbed softly as she watched her mother.

 Chuka, now known as Prince Aena with some palace guards, returned to his hut to fetch Kioma. He walked towards her, dressed like a prince, his eyes filled with love. Gioma stood frozen, her mouth open. And before she could say a word, he stopped in front of her and said softly, “Forgive me for hiding who I am.

 I wanted to know if you would love me without the crown.” Tears filled Chioma’s eyes. All the kindness, the love, the quiet ways he cared for her. It all made sense now. She hugged him tightly as she continued to sob. One week after the shocking announcement, the village of Anyoma came alive again. This time for a proper royal marriage ceremony.

 This was not the quiet, shameful wedding where Chioma was handed over like unwanted property. No, this was a grand, colorful, and unforgettable celebration. One that befits the marriage of a prince and his chosen queen. The palace square was decorated with palm frrons, colorful fabrics and clay pots filled with fresh flowers. Royal drummers beat the talking drums with pride, their rhythms echoing across hills and streams.

 The entire village gathered, dressed in their best attires. Dancers swirled and leaped. Singers praised the names of the bride and groom. Kimmer stood at the entrance of the palace courtyard dressed in the richest George wrapper. Her head tied with a sparkling coralbead crown, gold earrings dancing on her ears.

 Her smile radiated like sunshine, her eyes glowing with joy. The elders, chiefs, and palace priests conducted the traditional rights one after the other. Colonut was broken. The royal wine was poured. The village women screamed excitedly when Chioma knelt gracefully and offered a cup of palm wine to Prince Abena as tradition demanded.

 Prayers were offered and the celebration continued late into the night with drumming, dancing, laughter, and feasting. 2 months after her marriage ceremony, Queen Chi returned to her stepmother’s house and made peace with her, assuring her that she was and remained the mother she knew. Mama Ujuna and Ujuna begged her for forgiveness and she forgave them.

 She returned to the palace and she lived happily with her husband the prince. Some years later after the king passed, Prince Obiner was sworn in as king. Together they ruled the land with fairness and equity. They had three children, two boys and a girl. They lived happily ever after. Thank you so much for watching this beautiful and emotional story to the end.

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