“I’m getting married,” said Dola. We were sitting on a picnic blanket under the shade of a tree. I smiled and looked down shyly, waiting for him to ask me for the details of the people he would talk to about my bride price, but he did not ask for them. I raised my head to look at him. “My fiancée and I will get married in three months, but it’s you I love,” he said. “Your fiancée?” I echoed, certain I had not heard right.