Ugwu Chisom

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𝙄 𝘼𝙇𝙈𝙊𝙎𝙏 𝙆𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙈𝙔 𝙃𝙐𝙎𝘽𝘼𝙉𝘿

Before you tongue lash and criticize me, I beg you to give me benefit of the doubt and hear my own side of the story.

My husband and I were university sweethearts. We met 10 years ago in a café. I was a fresher and he was in 300 level. That day, I was upset and in low spirits because I was yet to finish my registration and my school's matriculation was in three days.

When I stepped into the Café, our eyes met across the crowded room. He had an afro and half framed spectacles which made him stand out. "Must be a nerd", I said to myself. He sauntered slowly to me and I noticed his prominent cheekbones and soft brown eyes.

He grinned politely and offered to help me, seeing that I was frazzled. He asked what I hadn't completed and I breathed a sigh of relief. I ransacked my paper bag and brought out my documents.

Luck smiled on me when his friend who worked at the café came in. They helped me with my registration without having to spend the whole day waiting for my turn. I expressed my profound gratitude to him and he offered to buy me lunch which I declined initially, but after little pressure from him, I gave in.

That encounter bloosomed into a beautiful love affair. He was a book loving erudite who would later become a staff in one of the biggest oil companies in Nigeria. I had always been simple-minded and believed in reading just to pass. Our relationship helped me become more intelligent because he made me study very hard.

I lived in the hostel in my first year and shared the room with four other girls. He came every other evening with snacks and soft drinks which we would eat while we cuddled and enjoyed our boy/girlfriend moments in the love garden.

The next session, he made a request that I move in with him. I felt uneasy about it, because my mum, without fail would pass subtle messages about unwanted pregnancy and getting infected with an STD. After much pressure,. I gave in.

It was pure bliss living with him, I was a great cook, so he was grateful for my presence. I also cleaned and washed his clothes. He in turn would help me with my assignments and term papers.

Before long, he introduced me to his friends, who visited frequently. They liked me, or rather, my cooking prowess. It became a routine for them to visit, while I slaved myself away cooking and cleaning. It was nothing at first,but it became draining. I couldn't complain because I had a habit of leaving things unsaid for the sake of peace. My friend, Lizzy, who was with me one Sunday evening was disgruntled and didn't hesitate to let it show. Some of the boys noticed and artfully voiced it out. One of them even said my type was rare and I'd make a graceful and diligent spouse. My friend convulsed with laughter and gave a loud hiss before leaving.

I saw her the next day and confronted her about her horrendous attitude the previous day and she told me not to let others manipulate and disrespect me because the way I present myself to people is how they would treat me. She also told me to start speaking up, owing to the fact that keeping things to yourself builds up strife and anger.

I couldn't, because I had confrontation phobia, and I didn't want my then boyfriend to get mad at me. I wasn't comfortable with cooking all the time and hosting his friends, but I kept doing it with a smile on my face, which was a façade. Their girlfriends didn't do half of what I did.

My boyfriend graduated when I was in year three and went for his Nysc. Fortunately, he got a good job after his service year and juggled working and running his masters degree. I graduated and got married to him before going for my service year. Things were good for us and we had our first child, a beautiful girl who had my husband's complexion and my looks. I almost lost her, owing to childbirth complications. The doctor gave me a heart wrenching news that it was going to be very difficult for me to take in, because of several abortions. Yes, I aborted twice when I was in the university. We weren't ready to have kids, so we had to terminate the babies. My worst fears were confirmed, I cried my eyes out for days, but my husband comforted me and told me not to worry, because we were in this together.

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I was a doting wife who never complained. Who always had something nice to say and let a lot of things go. Even at work, my colleagues noticed this and asked if I never got offended. I took care of my husband and child. I would come home early, cook, clean and take care of my child, while waiting for my husband to come home.

One night, my husband came home clearly intoxicated. He reeked of alcohol. I was shocked because that wasn't his nature. I started noticing changes in him. He stopped taking calls in my presence and treated me like I didn't exist. The situation worsened as the day went by. What did I not do? I pleaded, cooked his favourite meals, offered him my body, all to no avail.

After some months, I informed my mother-in-law. She responded coldly by telling me to step up as a wife and give my husband what he wanted,. What did he want? This made me confused and I resolved to speak with my husband that night. While on my knees, I pleaded to him and asked where I had gone wrong, and he looked at me, with a sneer on his face, and told me to give him a son.

I felt my soul leaving my body. Didn't it take two to tango? If he hadn't gotten me pregnant and made me abort, I wouldn't be in this mess. Suddenly, the air conditioned room became stuffy. What have I done to myself? I looked at him and there was no form of remorse on his face.

I regained my composure and left the room. I slept in my daughter's room that night. My heart was filled with grief. I couldn't believe that my husband, my first love, would stab me in the back. I became a shadow of myself. I couldn't talk to anyone about it. Trust humans to condemn. I couldn't tell my mum. She would be extremely disappointed in me.

I resigned to fate and was a bit relieved because I married the man who made me abort, so we were in this mess together. Six months later, he informed me that someone else was pregnant for him. I would later find out from his colleague and friend's wife, who became a family friend to us, that my husband met the lady at their company's annual meeting and he was smitten by her looks. Things kicked off immediately between them. This explains the coldness he started giving me.

Before long, he brought her to the house. My matrimonial house. She was a beautiful woman, who had an air of superiority and screamed class and affluence. They paid no attention to me. My husband didn't even steal me a second glance. My daughter ran in to hug her dad, and he picked her into his arms and gave her a kiss. Big ups to him for not rejecting his own child.

She moved in with us and I left with my daughter to the west wing of the house. I hardly saw my husband and never had a conversation with his girlfriend. I avoided her at all cost, and she in turn, avoided me like the plague. My husband started visiting my side of the house to check on my daughter, and would ask me for food. To his utmost surprise, I gave him food cheerfully. He kept coming to eat and check on us.

One day, I saw a movie where a woman poisoned her husband out of spite and bitterness and it hit me that I had the power to make or mar my husband. I started hatching plans on how to poison him. I was consumed with my plans until I had a terrible nightmare. I woke up filled with fear and decided not to kill him. That weekend, I packed my bags, picked my daughter and left. I didn't want blood on my hands. He got wind of what I did and kept calling and texting, but I never replied.

The next year, I relocated abroad to further my studies and start afresh. I had my life back on track and nothing to worry about.

I'm here, with my daughter, happy and content. Free from life's worries. Let's drink to that.

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