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COVER DESIGN: TM DAVID-WEST

It's good to be back here after many years. This story is a flash fiction and I hope it'll be worth your time.




*~*


Whistling was an action that came spontaneous to him whenever he was happy and he was doing just that as he bounced from the car park to his three-bedroom apartment sparkling like the bottle of wine he held with happiness.
Who wouldn’t be happy, having just been promoted with a salary almost twice his former with attached benefits? He was now an administrative manager in an automobile company for heaven’s sake!
But the whistling ended abruptly on walking into the sitting room. He saw it at once, the void. And nothing in the world could have prepared him for the shock he instantaneously felt.
All framed photographs, which once adorned the walls were gone; pictures of their ten-day old baby, that of his wife and that of his wife and himself.
A shiver coursed through his body as he dropped his work bag and the bottle of wine on the dining table which was close to where he stood and hurried into the bedroom.
Same change had found its way there but it was worse. His baby boy and wife were nowhere to be found. Stupefied, he gazed momentarily into space like a statue in the centre of an ever flowing river.
Had the rapture taken place?
Hastily, he flung open the wardrobe. All traces of her and their baby was gone. The drawers were empty. Even their marriage certificate was missing.
He yanked out the drawers; and in one of them, he found the note. With heart thudding, he lifted the white sheet covered with the blue ink of her free-flowing handwriting.


—
Dear Kunle,
I am a horrible person and if you don’t find it in your heart to forgive me, I would understand.
I know I am callous, heartless and selfish. Whatever name you call me, I deserve it. You are a good man and do not deserve to be deceived and lied to the way I have done.
I was unfaithful to you during our courtship, and all through our marriage, I remained unfaithful. There is no need to list the names of those I have been with, that will only bring you more grief. We never had a real marriage because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to be faithful to my marriage vows. Destiny is not even your son; that is why I left with him.
I am very sorry, Kunle. I know how you looked forward to having a child of your own. I know how much you love him. Even before he was born, you already loved him. Please don’t think it is your sexuality or that you must have done something that prompted my actions. The only problem was my lack of contentment.
I know you may likely plunge a knife into me if you ever set eyes on me again, so I have gone very far and I hope we never see each other again.
I have contacted my lawyer to begin divorce proceedings.
I am terribly sorry. Do forgive me and move on with your life as I have moved on with mine.


Yemisi.

Nice one dear

LightQueen:
Nice one dear

Thank you

The paper dropped from his hand. He suddenly felt dizzy; everything swirled around him. He staggered forward, stumbled and fell.
“Oh my God!” He gasped, lying sprawled on the marble-tiled floor.
It was over. Five years of marriage added to one year of courtship — all gone!
Destiny wasn’t his son?
The child he’d been making endless list of what he would teach him when he grew up wasn’t his. The entire church, family and friends had gathered for his naming ceremony… and yet he wasn’t his son.
Tears rolled down his cheeks unchecked.
He wept as though God would look down on his tears and spare him the unbearable heart ache that seared through him.
“Oh Yemisi... you are cruel! You are evil! You are... You are...”
He couldn’t bring himself to continue hurling insults. He felt wrenched and he didn’t even know how to curse. So he laid there as tear drops washed down his face and trailed down to wet his shirt.
Sometime later, his tears stopped. It could have been minutes or hours, he didn’t know. For him, time now stood still.
She’d told him to move on. He would. What use was there to cry over spilled milk anyway?
People who know them will talk.
The thought brought him more sorrow. But he knew that other people’s opinion shouldn’t be priority. People always talked anyway— whatever the situation.
They had met first on the first Sunday of the New Year. He remembered now, quite vividly.
He looked his best that day, wearing his only Brook Brothers owned suit and Italian leather shoes that had been a gift. There had been stares, so much so that he’d become self-conscious. She had boldly walked up to him and paid him a compliment.
“You are looking like a true gentleman.”
Those were her words. He would never forget them. At that time though, he had blushed over them as he thanked her. Three weeks later, they’d met again at a midweek service. Afterwards, he had walked her home and she accorded him the privilege of her phone number.
Despite his busy schedule and having to travel more than twice a month, they had started dating. Their relationship had withstood the test of distance, time constraint and fluctuating communication. Theirs had been a purity-based relationship. He despised premarital sex and had told her so. She wasn’t a woman without experience but he hadn’t minded. It suited him even. Her experience would balance his book-acquired knowledge but he had been a fool.
He shook his head and made no attempt to wipe the fresh set of tear drops.
In time, he proposed to her. She accepted and they got married.
And here he was a five years later, an epitome of the word mess.
His eyes widened. Could it be that when she told him about the advances she got from men that she had taken it further beyond narration while he thought he was blessed with a lady that was the toast of most men? Could it be that she was part of the bevy, when she narrated and claimed it was the escapades of her friends with men whenever he asked for update of her welfare and that of her friends?
He heaved and shut his eyes.

He should have done more than shrugged when her phone contacts and messages were password protected in marriage. He should have suspected when she wasn’t as excited as expected at the birth of destiny.
She’d asked him to move on. He will. He must. Life was too short for the extravagancy of wallowing in grief and regret.
He must pick up his broken heart and give it a chance to mend.
Indeed, he was now a victim of misplaced priority. He should have investigated and paid attention. His love was blind but marriage became his eye opener.
He should have prayed, not just worked by sight and bank on the fact that since they had met in church she was wife material. That had always been the counsel of his mother— “Seek God’s face before taking a wife.” The lesson had eventually sunk in after six years.
He hadn’t waited on the Lord. He will do so now. With all his heart, soul and mind.
It would not be easy but what other option did he have?
He heaved off the floor, dusted himself and with slow but steady steps headed to the bathroom for a cold shower. Afterwards he would go into the kitchen to fend for himself.
Life must go on.

THE END

Hmmmmm....
So heartbreaking!
I love this piece...
Thanks

muhammed50:
Hmmmmm....
So heartbreaking!
I love this piece...
Thanks

Thank you dear. I have e books with more volume on okadabooks. Or send me an email on ugbajaesther@gmail.com