The tears and blood of my wife still hangs on my sick soul. To her, love can go far. What happened that night remains a secret, our secret. Last August reminds me of a bad dream. I am yet to know the borderline between a spouse and a bachelor. Maybe we both don’t know what we are into yet.
It was eight days after our wedding and Angela called short our honeymoon, it’s understandable. We were on the next flight back to Lagos, trapped in an unfinished business. In my fraud of silence, I wished for amnesia for her and maybe for me too. I hate to remember my entrails for the past days. During our wedding I felt something died in her but after the ordeal (I can’t call it rape), it seemed I opened old wounds. She is still beautiful but I feel she just buried the immediate past in a shallow grave. We are tied to an oxymoron, we are married strangers. One will feel that we are both deaf and dumb until you see any of us on the phone. There is a deep well of malice in her heart, and to me marriage is a game of two forgivers but you need to see her face at the sound of the word “marriage”. I’ve lost the grip of the relationship, our marriage is like a child born and hooked to a respirator. Strangers we were before our wedding, stranger we still are at the dawn of our marriage.
Someone should have taught us the value of courtship before wedding. Someone should have told our parents that this patchwork won’t stand the test of time. Our parents hurriedly sealed this patchwork and propose the knot. I won’t blame myself or my wife, whatever our parents have put together let no man put asunder. They must be gods you know, and we are their dummies. They better know how to calm this storm lest pride will tear up the loincloth of our marriage. I wish home will tow us out of the ashen folds of malice. We shall find a new skin in hope and the chorus of dawn will move green leaves on trees.
We have created an illusion that all is well right from the airport. Still I ask myself, how far can we go with this? But how can I reason with a wife without ears? I am just stuck with the monologue, monologue of the deaf. Maybe peace hangs on the wall in the calendar, and time will tell but before that… we remain married strangers.

#yawns