I heard the rumors even before we got married that my husband was seeing Edith. We fought about it very often, but he denied ever having anything to do with her. I saw signs. I showed him messages gossipers had sent me. He accused me of allowing strangers to come between our relationship. I toned down only after the knocking rite. I was so sure I was going to get married to him, so there was no point.
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After marriage, the rumors didn’t stop. One evening, I sat my husband down and asked him to be honest with me. “These rumors used to crawl, but now they run and have developed tech. Tell me the truth. What’s going on between you and Edith that the rumors can’t rest?”
He swore heaven and earth that Edith was once a friend, and that was all. He admitted they used to talk, and Edith felt there was going to be a relationship, but he didn’t like her. That was why he came for me, so those rumors were coming from the past. I pleaded with him to do everything within his power to make people stop talking about it.
After that conversation, I closed my mind to their issues. It didn’t stop coming, but I just didn’t pay attention. When someone said it to my face, I defended my husband vehemently but also thanked them for caring about my marriage enough to bring me what they thought I wasn’t seeing.
Then my husband’s father died. At the funeral, I saw Edith and her mom. They were both wearing the same cloth the family chose for the funeral. My heart skipped a beat, and to make it worse, they sat very close to the family and blended with them. We were mourning, but I honestly wanted to cause a scene. Maybe walk to them and ask why they were wearing family cloth when they were not family.
I restrained myself until the evening when I asked my husband about it. He flared up. “Are you a witch? Don’t you have emotions? My father is dead and you’re doing rivalry during his funeral? What has come over you? Isn’t the cloth being sold in the market?”
On Sunday during the church service, Edith and her mom came for the thanksgiving service, again wearing the thanksgiving cloth for the family. I couldn’t stand it, so I left the church and went home to sleep. After the service, friends and people I knew asked me the same question, “Why is Edith wearing the same cloth as you? Are you both official rivals?”
Everybody could see it except my husband. Even the blind could tell what was going on wasn’t normal, but my husband normalized it and threw my concerns away. So after the funeral, against my better judgment, I went to see Edith. I told her, “Just imagine yourself in my shoes as a wife. Would you be happy with the way things are going?”
She also swore that nothing was going on, but because they had been neighbors with my father-in-law, they thought it wise to make his mourning personal. I told her I’d heard the rumors and that it didn’t paint a good picture for her. I told her it could even block her chances if there was a man out there who was interested in her.
I was angry and burning, but I spoke to her like a sister for the first time about the rumors. The next thing I knew, my husband was walking home like a robot with a faulty battery and screaming, “How dare you do what you did? Why did you discuss me with Edith? Who gave you the right to talk to her about me? Did I tell you I had something going on with her?”
He huffed and puffed and concluded, “Maybe you want me to marry her. If that’s the case, then you can leave the marriage for her to come and take over.”
I didn’t utter a word. He gave me attitude. He didn’t talk to me and didn’t eat my food for days. He used that as an excuse and left home at whatever time he wanted and came back at whatever time he wanted without telling me anything about his whereabouts. I swore never to talk about him and Edith again. “When I’m tired, I will leave,” I told myself.
One early morning, a call came from a friend. “Do you know Edith is pregnant? Pray it’s not your husband’s because this is very strange.”
Of all the bad things I thought my husband could do, getting that girl pregnant wasn’t one. I thought it would be unwise for him to do that, and Edith would not allow that to happen to her. I was somehow happy about the pregnancy. “If it’s true, then it means there’s another man in the picture, and this will bring everything to an end.”
But the days ahead proved murkier than I thought they would be. There were a lot of talks in harsh tones. I was watching him, and his behavior wasn’t right and was so off tune. He would go quiet for no reason. So I did what I’d sworn never to do in my life.
I checked his phone and, lo and behold, he had been fighting Edith about the pregnancy. He threatened her to let it go. Edith replied, “Even your wife hasn’t been able to give you a child. There’s one here and you want me to let it go? Never.”
The pregnancy, the fact that it was for my husband, and the fact that a lot of people knew about it didn’t hurt me like what Edith said in response to my husband’s suggestion to abort it.
So the next morning, I walked to their house to confront her even without talking to my husband about what I’d found. To me, the marriage was over, so he was a dead case for me. I got there, and she was still in bed. I told her mom about the pregnancy with my husband, and her mom was like, “So you’re here to do what? Why don’t you concentrate on your marriage while she concentrates on her pregnancy?”
When she came out, I was loud and confrontational. “What has your situation got to do with me? Why insult me when I hadn’t opened my mouth to insult you even after being fragrant about dating my husband?”
Her mom joined in, and they both tried to push me out while insulting me. Her mom said I should marry in my space and allow her daughter to also marry in her space. She called to tell my husband I’d attacked her, but he couldn’t find the vim to ask me about it. He was there when I was packing my things. He asked where I was going, and I said, “I’m making space for Edith and her baby. You two make a great couple.”
He came to my parents to beg, and my dad asked him, “Let’s say my daughter here was your daughter and you were in my shoes. Would you listen to your apology?” Now he’s telling me the pregnancy is not his and waiting to do a DNA test after delivery. Because I appear a fool in his eyes, he wants me to accept it.
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Men Don’t Like It When Women Do The Paying
Now he walks to work because I’ve collected the car he drives. It’s mine. He contributed only 20%, and he has used it for close to a year. That’s his 20% gone. By the time I’m done with him, Edith will realize she stole a naked man. If she’s worth her salt, she can also help him build from the nothing I will leave him with.
—Efua
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