Married to a monster, saved by the president's son

I packed my long, brown braids up and wore a net. Every act of mine was done mechanically, without any form of affection.

For more than three hours, I had been sitting on the sofa, waiting for Cletus to return from work. I wasn't even feeling sleepy, and my eyes did not feel heavy, though my limbs were weak. I was afraid to close my eyes; the moment my eyelids closed, they opened with the same momentum.

Fear was consuming me, and I was enjoying it like a fucking masochist. Looking at the wall, I saw that the time was a minute past midnight. I became worried for my husband and, at the same time, furious.

How dare he come to his home at this time?

He will have it when he comes.

This house will be on fire should he step in.

I wouldn't let him go off easily today!

Enough is enough! I thought, pacing the sitting room.

Amidst my anger was fear—fear that he would end up hurting me should I dare confront or trouble him. Then there was a lingering doubt about whether I would actually be able to question him when he arrived. Anxiety that he wouldn't even come at all still reared its head in my mind. And finally, hope that nothing bad had happened to him. I was feeling a mix of emotions, and my heart sank. Amidst it all, I was at least grateful that Ezinne, my daughter, was fast asleep.

"I don't know why he would come home this late. A married man with a kid is still not here by 12 a.m. Lord!" I mumbled to myself.

My emotions were starting to get the better of me. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't even humor me. Instead, I wrapped my arms around my body, shivering from the cold.

The living room was always so cold at night because of how spacious it was. I knew the bedroom would be cozy, but I refused to go back there.

"He will meet me here; he will surely meet me here!" I hissed angrily.

…but inside, I was trembling.

My legs and hands shook in anger and anxiety while I kept soliloquizing.

"To think that lately, he started coming home by ten, and that was considered late enough—now he hasn't returned by midnight! Oh Lord! What am I to do?" I sobbed, putting my head in my hands as I slumped onto one of our black sofas.

"A married man wasn't yet home by this time. My own husband. I never imagined in my life that this would ever be the case.

Why are you doing this to me, Cletus?

What wrong have I committed?

What?!

You must tell me today, oh!

You must!"

I was in utter self-doubt and confusion when the doorbell rang. The moment I heard the sound of the bell, my heart skipped. I didn't wait to pull myself together, nor did I bother thinking or organizing myself.

I flung up from the sofa and rushed to open the door, only to be met by a drunk Cletus, who was resting against the wall for support.

We lived alone in a duplex, and I could not be more grateful that at least we had a place to stay and enjoyed privacy. It would have been terrible for us if we had neighbors. What would Cletus be relaying to them with this behavior? Our marriage would definitely have been the laughingstock of all the neighbors, and we would have been the sole subject of all their gossip and ridicule.

"Cletus, you are drunk!" I shouted, blocking my nostrils. He reeked of alcohol. I stood by the door, watching him with tear-stained eyes as he struggled to remain on his feet.

He looked at me menacingly and yelled, "Ehen! What is it again? Won't I come in before you begin your madness? Please stop shouting my name!"

Shifting himself from the wall, he staggered some more before he was able to regain balance. He eyed me with a disgusted look, and before I could even think of what to say, he pushed me away from the door and went inside. Closing the door behind me, I trailed behind him.

"Oh God! What have I done to deserve this, Lord? What? Please, Lord, tell me!" I sobbed.

He ignored me and slumped onto the couch, taking off his suit jacket. He placed his legs on the couch, sighing.

His eyes were still open, looking at me with disdain, as if he contemplated my murder.

My own Cletus, now a drunkard.

What did I ever do to deserve this?

I could see different lipstick stains on his shirt—not just one or two but three different stains. Pink, red, and purple. He had been with three women, and later, he would want me to open my legs for him? It won't happen.

"Cletus, what is this? So, this is how low you've stooped? You left with a white shirt but returned with a rainbow-colored one." I asked, pointing at the stains on his shirt.

"Now you sleep with three different women and carry the evidence of it home like a trophy. Cletus! So, you now sleep with prostitutes—like you don't have a wife!" I exclaimed as tears fell recklessly down my cheeks.

"What have I done to you? What? Is it that I am no longer good enough for you or that I am no longer sexy? Tell me! This is not what you promised me when you proposed to me. This is not! I have done everything to keep fit for you. Everything! And this is how you repay me?! By fucking other women?"

"So, you haven't stopped sleeping around, abi? God! What do you want me to do for you again?" I shouted, hitting my hands on my chest repeatedly.

"Have I not done enough? Have I not given enough to you? Cletus! Have I not loved you enough? I left my parents and everyone I loved just to be with you, and this is what I get in return—infidelity. Cletus, why?" I sobbed, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"Tell me why? You must answer me today, oh, you must!"

He stood up and shoved me away in one swift movement. He made to go to our room like he always did anytime he returned late and I challenged him, but not this night. I must get answers. I was prepared for him.

"You lie, Cletus! You aren't going anywhere!" I shouted, trying my best to restrain him, my hands firm on the collar of his shirt. I was so ready for him tonight. "You must give me an answer! Ah ah! This is unbearable! You are not ignoring me today. It's either you kill me or you answer me!"