Husband

The Night I Cheated

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The Night I Cheated

The night I cheated on my husband began like any other, but it ended with a series of events that would shatter my world forever.  I can still remember the last day I saw Richard before that fateful night; it was that day in court when he was found guilty of stealing a large sum of money from my father. He was sentenced to 7 years imprisonment, although he pleaded not guilty to the offence. But I saw the checks and signatures, I saw the transfer messages and dates; the evidence was clear, but he still insisted that he didn’t steal anything, not even a dime while working for my dad. Somehow, deep down, I knew he was telling the truth, but I was scared and torn between loyalty to my father and love for him. When it was my turn to testify, I gave a false testimony. My mother had urged me to tell the version of the story they had concocted, and I couldn’t say no. I saw him cry as he was led out of the courtroom. My heart ached for doing that to the man I loved. We had shared many sweet memories, but they didn’t matter at that moment. They didn’t matter the next week when I walked down the aisle with another man my parents had forced on me. They didn’t matter when I took my vows and signed my marriage register, nor when I kissed my wedded husband with the same lips that had once kissed Richard. Eric was a good man; he truly loved me and showered me with care and kindness. In time, I learned to love him, and I fell madly in love. When we had our first child, Corinne, 10 months later, it added to his sweetness. Eric was overjoyed; I’d never seen him so happy, and right there at the hospital, I vowed to keep and protect my marriage. But did I? I started failing the day I saw Richard again. He resurfaced after 4 years and came after me. How he became free, I didn’t know, and how he even found me was also a mystery. He had changed drastically; the beard that adorned his chin gave him a handsome look, and his well-formed muscles made him more attractive. He actually didn’t come for me as I thought; he came for his child. Now, Richard left me with the enormous task of telling my husband the truth so that he could take his daughter and leave. No one knew that Eric was not Corinne’s real father, not even my parents, not even Eric himself. I was one month pregnant before I got married, and Corinne arrived way past months, making it look like Eric was the father. The news would hurt Eric, and that was exactly the last thing I wanted but Richard would tell him if I didn’t, and that would make matters worse. Each time I made up my mind to tell Eric, he would do something so amazing that I’d lose heart, for I couldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t be able to bear the pain; his blood pressure would fail him, and I feared greatly for my marriage. I would do anything else Richard asked, but this. I would give money, property, lands, just anything so I could keep Corinne and my wonderful husband. So that was it. Richard asked for another chance. He wanted me one more time, just for a whole night. To recover all that he had lost for the past 4 years and finally say goodbye to me and his child. I couldn’t cheat on my husband; it was one sin I would never commit, but it sounded fair enough. A night for my lifetime, a night for our daughter, a night to save my marriage. I agreed. He smiled as he opened the door of the hotel room; my heart skipped a beat as I saw the perfectly made bed. I had never shared a bed with another man after my wedding, and I kept hearing that small voice at the back of my head telling me to leave immediately. I wanted to, but it was at that moment that Richard took off his shirt and came closer to hold me. At that moment, I knew I had missed him and all we had shared together. If only he hadn’t gone to prison; if only we had gotten married, but we didn’t. As he touched me, I knew I had missed that too, and I allowed him to carry me to the bed. Our lips merged with a new urgency, and he took off my clothes as quickly as he did his own. Underneath him, I counted the minutes. Soon it would be over, soon I’d be back home with my family, and everything would be fine; no one would ever know, as usual. “Say you love me,” he demanded. It took me time to decode what he meant. This isn’t a reunion, I thought; this isn’t lovemaking either; this is adultery, and he shouldn’t make it look like it’s not. I knew I still had to obey every part of this contract. “I love…” It hung in my mouth as my husband barged in and stood in shock at the doorway. Richard jerked off my body immediately, and I tried to cover my nakedness, but Eric had seen it all. He didn’t move; he just watched me with tears in his eyes. “How could you?” he said in almost a whisper and wiped his tears in one swipe. “I can explain, Eric,” I started saying, even though my heart was failing me at that moment. Fear and guilt were almost tearing me apart as I searched for my clothes that Richard had discarded in a hurry. How did he find out? Eric wasn’t listening to me; he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. I couldn’t believe my luck; what I was trying to protect crashed … Read more

The Night I Cheated

by
The Night I Cheated

The night I cheated on my husband began like any other, but it ended with a series of events that would shatter my world forever.  I can still remember the last day I saw Richard before that fateful night; it was that day in court when he was found guilty of stealing a large sum of money from my father. He was sentenced to 7 years imprisonment, although he pleaded not guilty to the offence. But I saw the checks and signatures, I saw the transfer messages and dates; the evidence was clear, but he still insisted that he didn’t steal anything, not even a dime while working for my dad. Somehow, deep down, I knew he was telling the truth, but I was scared and torn between loyalty to my father and love for him. When it was my turn to testify, I gave a false testimony. My mother had urged me to tell the version of the story they had concocted, and I couldn’t say no. I saw him cry as he was led out of the courtroom. My heart ached for doing that to the man I loved. We had shared many sweet memories, but they didn’t matter at that moment. They didn’t matter the next week when I walked down the aisle with another man my parents had forced on me. They didn’t matter when I took my vows and signed my marriage register, nor when I kissed my wedded husband with the same lips that had once kissed Richard. Eric was a good man; he truly loved me and showered me with care and kindness. In time, I learned to love him, and I fell madly in love. When we had our first child, Corinne, 10 months later, it added to his sweetness. Eric was overjoyed; I’d never seen him so happy, and right there at the hospital, I vowed to keep and protect my marriage. But did I? I started failing the day I saw Richard again. He resurfaced after 4 years and came after me. How he became free, I didn’t know, and how he even found me was also a mystery. He had changed drastically; the beard that adorned his chin gave him a handsome look, and his well-formed muscles made him more attractive. He actually didn’t come for me as I thought; he came for his child. Now, Richard left me with the enormous task of telling my husband the truth so that he could take his daughter and leave. No one knew that Eric was not Corinne’s real father, not even my parents, not even Eric himself. I was one month pregnant before I got married, and Corinne arrived way past months, making it look like Eric was the father. The news would hurt Eric, and that was exactly the last thing I wanted but Richard would tell him if I didn’t, and that would make matters worse. Each time I made up my mind to tell Eric, he would do something so amazing that I’d lose heart, for I couldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t be able to bear the pain; his blood pressure would fail him, and I feared greatly for my marriage. I would do anything else Richard asked, but this. I would give money, property, lands, just anything so I could keep Corinne and my wonderful husband. So that was it. Richard asked for another chance. He wanted me one more time, just for a whole night. To recover all that he had lost for the past 4 years and finally say goodbye to me and his child. I couldn’t cheat on my husband; it was one sin I would never commit, but it sounded fair enough. A night for my lifetime, a night for our daughter, a night to save my marriage. I agreed. He smiled as he opened the door of the hotel room; my heart skipped a beat as I saw the perfectly made bed. I had never shared a bed with another man after my wedding, and I kept hearing that small voice at the back of my head telling me to leave immediately. I wanted to, but it was at that moment that Richard took off his shirt and came closer to hold me. At that moment, I knew I had missed him and all we had shared together. If only he hadn’t gone to prison; if only we had gotten married, but we didn’t. As he touched me, I knew I had missed that too, and I allowed him to carry me to the bed. Our lips merged with a new urgency, and he took off my clothes as quickly as he did his own. Underneath him, I counted the minutes. Soon it would be over, soon I’d be back home with my family, and everything would be fine; no one would ever know, as usual. “Say you love me,” he demanded. It took me time to decode what he meant. This isn’t a reunion, I thought; this isn’t lovemaking either; this is adultery, and he shouldn’t make it look like it’s not. I knew I still had to obey every part of this contract. “I love…” It hung in my mouth as my husband barged in and stood in shock at the doorway. Richard jerked off my body immediately, and I tried to cover my nakedness, but Eric had seen it all. He didn’t move; he just watched me with tears in his eyes. “How could you?” he said in almost a whisper and wiped his tears in one swipe. “I can explain, Eric,” I started saying, even though my heart was failing me at that moment. Fear and guilt were almost tearing me apart as I searched for my clothes that Richard had discarded in a hurry. How did he find out? Eric wasn’t listening to me; he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. I couldn’t believe my luck; what I was trying to protect crashed … Read more

The Unexpected Birthday Surprise – Copy

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The Unexpected Birthday Surprise

I awoke to the sweet taste of glucose lingering on my tongue, a satisfying sensation that brought a smile to my face as I remembered it was my birthday. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for turning thirty—an age that had never looked better on anyone. As I stretched and shifted positions in bed, I recalled my husband’s playful comment about my sleeping habit, which he termed “ballet dancing.” I wondered how I twisted and turned that way while asleep. Eagerly anticipating birthday wishes, I waited for my husband and son to initiate the celebration. However, as our morning routine unfolded—devotion, breakfast, and casual conversation—not a single “Happy Birthday” was uttered. My husband proceeded with his day as usual, while our son, Joshua, chattered about his upcoming weekend tests. “Mom, did you know we have three tests this weekend?” Joshua asked, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Three tests? That’s quite a lot, honey. What subjects?” I inquired, trying to mask my disappointment at the lack of birthday acknowledgement. “Math, Science, and English,” he replied, counting them off on his fingers. “I’m not worried about Math or Science, but English… ugh!” He dramatically flopped his head onto the table. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his theatrics. “Well, how about we review your English notes together this evening? We can make it fun with some word games.” Joshua’s face lit up. “Really? That’d be awesome! Can we use those colourful flash cards you made last time?” “Of course,” I promised, ruffling his hair affectionately. As our conversation continued, confusion and disappointment began to creep in. How could they forget my birthday? I’d been excitedly mentioning it all week. Part of me wanted to remind them, but I held my tongue, silently observing their laughter and jokes. “My mom invited us over this evening,” my husband announced, momentarily lifting my spirits. Perhaps my mother-in-law would remember. “Yes, we’ll go,” I replied, already envisioning the perfect gift and our next culinary adventure together. My mother-in-law was an exceptional cook, and I always looked forward to learning new recipes from her. Joshua interjected, “But I’m spending the weekend with Aunt Chi. Joan’s competing in the Double Dutch game tomorrow, and I’m cheering for her.” I raised an eyebrow, surprised by this sudden change of plans. “Double Dutch? Since when are you interested in jump rope competitions?” Joshua’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Well, um, Joan’s really good at it. And I promised I’d be there to support her.” My husband and I exchanged knowing glances. “You know, son,” my husband began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “there might be quite a few girls at this event. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Joshua’s blush deepened. “Dad! It’s not like that. Joan’s my cousin. Besides, Aunt Chi will be there too.” After a brief attempt to playfully tease Joshua about attending an event surrounded by girls, we hurried through breakfast and departed for our respective destinations. At work, my colleagues showered me with prayers, wishes, and promises of gifts. Yet, the absence of any acknowledgement from my husband lingered. No call, no text, no surprise delivery—nothing. I tried to focus on my tasks, but my mind kept drifting to thoughts of my family’s apparent forgetfulness. On my way home, I stopped to buy a cute dress for my mother-in-law, imagining our upcoming conversation and the new recipes I’d learn. The soft, floral fabric reminded me of her garden, and I hoped it would bring a smile to her face. Little did I know what awaited me. As I opened the front door, I was greeted by an eruption of “Happy Birthday!” There stood my husband, Joshua, mother-in-law, sister-in-law Chi, her daughter Joan, and my elder brother. Shocked and confused, I stood frozen, my mother-in-law’s gift still in hand. My husband appeared moments later, carrying an enormous cake inscribed with the words, “Happy Birthday, my Amazon.” The delicious aroma of vanilla and buttercream filled the air, making my mouth water instantly. Overwhelmed with emotion, I realized they hadn’t forgotten—they had been planning this sweet surprise all along. The elaborate ruse, the casual conversations, even Joshua’s sudden interest in double Dutch—it had all been part of their plan. As he embraced me, my husband whispered, “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. I didn’t forget.” The butterflies in my stomach danced as I joined in the celebration, surrounded by the love of my family. Joshua rushed forward, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Mom, did we surprise you? Did you really think we forgot?” I laughed, ruffling his hair. “You certainly did, my little actor. I had no idea!” As we gathered around the cake, sharing stories and laughter, I felt a profound sense of belonging. This is where I belong, I thought. Home is wherever these wonderful people are. READ ASLO: When Family Becomes the Most Important Destination

Goodbye, Afolabi

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I still remember the day I met my husband, Afolabi. He was charming, handsome, and had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world. We fell deeply in love, and I thought our relationship was perfect. But little did I know, his mother, Barbara, (she preferred we called her that) would become the reason I’d leave him. The sweet moments we shared are evergreen and I wish I could rewind time. On our wedding day, she prayed for me wholeheartedly. I could remember when she added this. “You will give birth to twins, not once, not twice but three times.” Every bystander exclaimed more than I did. Afolabi just smiled. His mother read our his thoughts. My heart throbbed when I saw this strange attitude from Barbara, my mother-in-law. At first, Barbara was sweet and welcoming. She’d invite me over for dinner, ask me about my day, and show genuine interest in getting to know me. But as time went on, I started to notice a change. She’d call Afolabi multiple times a day, asking him to run errands, fix things around the house, or simply to “check in.” He’d always oblige, saying “Mom needs me.” “I need you too!” I responded coldly in my heart when he said that. One evening, as we were preparing dinner together, Barbara called again. Afolabi dropped everything to answer, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” I asked, trying to hide my frustration. “It’s Mom, I have to take it,” he replied, not even looking up. I felt a knot in my stomach. “Jack, we’re married now. Can’t you set boundaries?” He sighed, “She’s just worried about me, that’s all.” But it wasn’t just worry. Barbara would show up unannounced, criticizing my cooking, my cleaning, even my clothes. Afolabi would just laugh it off, saying “That’s just Mom being Mom.” One day, I’d had enough. “Afolabi, I need to talk to you about your mom,” I said, my voice shaking. “What’s up?” he asked, not looking up from his phone. “Your mom’s obsession with you is suffocating me. I feel like I’m losing myself in this marriage.” He finally looked up, surprised. “What are you talking about? Mom just cares about me.” “Cares about you? She can’t even let you breathe without her! I’m your wife, Afolabi. I need you to prioritize me, our relationship.” He sighed, “I don’t know what to say. Mom’s always been like this.” I felt tears welling up. “Exactly. And that’s why I’m leaving.” He looked stunned. “What? No, please don’t go.” But I knew I had to. For my own sanity, for my own happiness. As I packed my bags, Barbara showed up, as if sensing her grip on Afolabi was slipping. “Where are you going?” she demanded. “I’m leaving Jack,” I said, my voice firm. “Your obsession with him is destroying our marriage.” She gasped, “How dare you! I’m just trying to protect my son!” But I knew the truth. She was trying to control him, to keep him tied to her apron strings forever. As I walked out the door, Afolabi called after me. “Please, don’t go!” But I knew I had to. For myself, for our marriage, I had to break free from Barbara’s suffocating grasp. As I type this, his calls are coming in. I don’t want to seek any advice. I am doing what exactly what will give him some sense. I planned to give him another week. It’s been two weeks I left the house. It’s so cool to see his unending remorseful chats and calls. My heart will be opened next week, I guess. READ ALSO: 10 ways to prevent workplace violence