Full Story: https://defavouredkings.com.ng/our-beautiful-angels-episode-1/

Episode 1


Richard posed the question before his wife’s eyes opened. He saw her rub her eyes and her body move under the duvet in a way that could only signal she was waking. He reached for the base of the lamp on their bedside table and switched it off quickly; praying that his wife’s mind had not registered the ridiculous question his mouth asked, against his will. He rested his pounding head on the pillow, his rigid back turned to her.

“What did you just say?

“Oh no, she heard me.” Richard cursed himself for choosing to believe the words of a near stranger. He sat up, focusing his eyes on everything in the room but her.

“Look at me Richard Rotimi Iretioluwa”

Richard had never heard his wife speak to him like that before, but he knew he deserved worse after what he found himself asking her: a partial resultant effect of sleep teasing and licking him for three solid hours without claiming him. He starred at her. She was now sat up, her neck twisted to his side of the bed. Sleep had completely left her eyes, which had seemed sleep deprived, a few hours ago when she picked him up from the airport. She had promptly blamed her tiredness on their three children and laughed in that affectionate way of hers- that he loved- when the twins protested, blaming it on each other.

When he kissed her, he remembered cooing “You look beautiful darling, as always”, because she did and all he had needed was simply to see her beautiful face to cast the ridiculous lies the near stranger fed him to the deep void of his unconscious self. As a therapist, he believed in the sanity defensive mechanisms such as repression and transference provides the mind. Until, starring at Junior for ages whilst they all ate their supper, worry had started to gnaw at his insides again.

“Is Junior my son, Eniola? Richard asked again, his eyes now on his wife of sixteen years.

Eniola’s hands appeared from under the duvet cover and wrapped themselves around Richard, as if all he needed was for her to swathe him like a newborn to soothe his fears.

“I am your wife…I am your..wife..Eniola’s voice thinned and waned until it failed her but she continued to speak with her fingers which jabbed him hard on his bare chest and neck, until she seemed to find her voice again as tears found her eyes.

“Richard…I love you. What are you asking me in the name of God! Of course Junior is your son. Where is this coming from” She let go of him, her face still close to his. A faint whiff of her natural perfume caught in his nostrils. Her nightwear had shifted a bit, revealing a generous amount of cleavage. Richard knew she would have longed to have him back. They had never been apart for that long. He wished he had never gone to Nigeria in the first place because he would not have had the misfortune of meeting the near stranger if he hadn’t.

“Do you know a man whose name is Gbenga? Gbenga Pedro? Your brother introduced him to me in his office” Richard continued after seeing the fleeting fret that passed her eyes before an exaggerated blank expression darkened her newly shaped eyebrows. “Your brother said you guys grew up together in Abeokuta. He was your brother’s best friend. So, you know him, right? ”

“No, no.. I mean yes…. but not that well. I don’t know him that well. He was my brother’s friend, not mine. Besides, I haven’t seen him for decades” Eniola’s voice had suddenly grown louder, her arms waved about as if his words were indeed physical thumps. Richard clasped his head in his sweaty palms, he had eaten barely a couple of mouthfuls of the jacket potato and baked beans that his wife served them for supper but now it sat heavy in his abdomen.

For the first time since he qualified as a psychotherapist in 1999, he wished he did not have an overactive listening skill. He found himself observing not just her verbal responses but her body language as well. Each signal so far, he knew, was telling him what his ears did not want to hear.

“You are the man I have given all my early adult years to. The only love of my life’’ Eniola grabbed her husband’s sweaty palms. “Please my husband, stop this. Your words are killing me”

He despised the impact of his words on her. Ironic, that the day of their wedding he promised to shield her from sadness and tears. Seeing her in tears thrashed him from the inside. They were enough to make him want to stop. But, he didn’t.

“What is the name of the first man you were with? Richard asked harshly before continuing when she gawked at him. “You were not a virgin on our wedding night Eniola, so I presume you dated someone before me, which is odd because I have heard you tell the women’s group in church how you were a virgin until you married your Mr right. I don’t care about the past. But I have a right to know if it infringes on our present and future babe. So, tell me and I promise I won’t be mad. Was it this Gbenga you were seeing before me?”

Eniola withdrew her hands from her husband’s but not before he had seen her face give him the confirmation he did not want. At the same time he recalled the words that had simply grown wings and followed him around like an affliction since the near stranger uttered them back in Ola’s Lagos office. Eniola’s brother, Ola had left him with the near stranger in his office to go to his colleague’s office. When the diminutive man grinned at him bearing stretched, fading tribal marks and brown stained teeth, Richard expected small talk, definitely not what followed.

“My man, you know I saw your son, Junior’s photo the other day. Ola showed them to me. The boy does not look like you at all. Haba, you are very tall and big, whereas he is small and frail. You must be very worried my man, considering the fact that Enny went straight from my arms to yours. But, I don’t blame her sha, a London-based man or a Lagos-based man”, just like that, the near stranger got up and left the room, despite his smallness, he walked away like a giant would, each miniature step of his, trampling over Richard’s life, leaving visible paw marks.

******

Richard turned to his snivelling wife; he did not speak as loud as he wanted to, more in fear of waking their children than of the migraine carving his head into a million fragments.

“When you went back to Nigeria after I proposed and you called me to say you were not sure about marrying me anymore, Were you with him?”

Richard leapt from the bed as soon as he saw her guilt ridden face. Strong overpowering emotions were pulling him apart, but rage above all others, was what transported him to the door. It had engulfed him so ruthlessly that he knew he had to put miles between himself and his wife. Without turning, he roared when he heard the soft uttering of the first syllable of his Yoruba name.

Full Story: https://defavouredkings.com.ng/our-beautiful-angels-episode-2/


Episode 2

Desola let her face curl into a smile. She had missed Femi, her on and off boyfriend of seven months.

“I am seeing someone, Desola. I am seeing a girl that I have sort of fallen for”

Femi’s words knifed her hopes : her fantasies of a fairy tale wedding, a wedding night and the two children she pictured them with. She reassured herself that she had heard him wrong. It was past five and they were standing in front of Naija Spice restaurant on one of the busiest roads in Stratford, Desola could barely hear him above the cars. Commuters heading to the train station were pushing past them on the pavement.

“I don’t understand you Femi” Desola asked him with the spongiest tone she could muster. Inside her head, she heard a banshee-like scream of No, this is not happening. Having lost her temping job as a sales assistant that afternoon she hadn’t bargained on her day getting worse. When Femi sent her a text message at four letting her know he was in the Miles End area and that he could give her, a lift back to Stratford, she had beamed, hoping that his message meant he was ready to give their almost deceased relationship another go.

He barely said two words to her in the car. At some point he turned up the car radio to Dbanj’s Oliver twist as she tried to explain she was heading to her second job as a waiter at Naija Spice and that they could talk later. When he got out of the car and offered to walk with her to Naija Spice, she had suspected something was seriously wrong.

“Babe, we broke up like a week ago because you messed up. I have moved on. I am only telling you because my new girlfriend attends the same church as you and I don’t want you to find out from someone else’’

Femi starred down the road. His phone was in his right palm. His left hand fidgeted about, drawing unseen objects in the air with his fingers. His legs were restless as if they would rather be crossing the road, away from the girl that had been his girlfriend for seven months.

“I thought you just needed some space. That was what you said Femi” Desola said. She saw him glare now. His neck was half twisted towards the road: as if he was telling her again that he had moved on. She pushed the door of Naija Spice open with the back of her hand, because she wanted to walk away with her dignity still intact. Standing outside without a jacket in a not so favourable weather holding a Sainsbury’s carrier bag and a half decent high street summer sale bag, talking to a man that was more interested in the cars on the road, she knew, was almost as ghastly as begging him on her knees.

Inside Naija Spice, the two tables close to the front of the restaurant were occupied by a family. The mother and father occupied the table on the right with a young girl of around two years old. The child’s tiny braids were wrapped round a chicken drumstick she was sucking on. The rest of the family- two skinny teenage boys and a younger girl in school uniform – were sat round the table that faced the entrance of the staff room, tucking into plates of jolof rice, moi moi and turkey. The other two tables in the restaurant were unoccupied which wasn’t unusual as eighty per cent of Naija Spice custom derives from domestic takeaways orders and social gathering catering.



Desola noticed Richard by the till taking down orders from a man in navy blue security uniform. Richard’s shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, but his shirt was still neatly tucked into his black trousers. She guessed he had come straight from work and wondered where his father was. She went straight into the staff room. Files and invoices dotted the desk Pastor John usually worked on. His son, Richard often came in to do the restaurant’s books. A red patterned tie and a tan leather jacket hung loosely on the only chair in the room. She retrieved her apron and poky white hat from her Sainsbury’s bag before dumping the bags on the new freezer that Pastor John purchased the week before to replace the old one in the kitchen- that stayed more off than on. Richard walked in without knocking. Desola noticed. He usually knocked.

“I am so sorry I am late. Is Pastor not in today? How is Junior …and the twins …

Desola’s questions died in her throat when she noticed his vacant disinterested eyes. He went to the desk and picked up a pile of papers previously discarded on a corner of the table and walked to the shredder with his back turned to her. She hadn’t noticed how tall he was before now. She saw him every Sunday at Our Angels church but whilst she helped out with the children in Sunday school, he assisted his father in the adult church with the deputy pastor. Although, Richard commanded equal level of respect from the church members as his father, he always had a pleasant smile plastered on his face whenever he saw a church member. This was why Desola wanted to clear the air, now heavy with tension.

“I am sorry Uncle Richard’’ The younger people in church preferred the term uncle whilst older adults tended to call him junior pastor

“Just get to work Desola. Someone needs to mind the till”

He heard her leave the room and sighed. Richard had had enough of women like his wife with their perfect behaviour and pious ways, yet with secrets grave enough to wipe out a whole nation. He used to grin with pride whenever people praised the good character of his wife. The same people have applauded Desola’s values in church, likening her virtues to his wife’s. He wondered what these church members would have said if they had seen the holy sister Desola with her rapper look-a-like boyfriend with jeans that showed his underwear rather than cover them.

Richard heard his phone start ringing; he ignored it, knowing his wife was at the other end. He hadn’t seen her since Monday morning, when he learnt that their fifteen year old son might not be his. He had not seen his children, since the same day either; when he dropped them off at his parent’s house after school.

****

Desola focused on the mopping of the floor because she knew her friend Ife had had enough of her talking about her pitiable relationship. But glaring at the strands of the mop stick as they tucked into corners did not help her answer the questions in her head.

“Desola, it is ten’ o clock and you haven’t finished mopping this floor. Uncle Richard is going to want to lock up soon”

Desola saw that Ife now had her bag in her hands, ready to go. She had taken off her apron and chef’s hat. An air of urgency and irritation sat around her.“I just want to know who my boyfriend is seeing. He says it is a sister from Our Angels church. I deserve to know who it is Ife. You know everyone in church. You are in the choir; please just tell me who it is, if you know’’

Desola did not hide the desperation in her voice. She had known Ife for a few years. They were the type of friends who braided their hair at the same hairdresser’s and shopped in the same supermarket.

“Desola, please stop this. You are better than this. Besides, you and he had already broken up’’ Ife started to head for the door.

“Ife, I know this is the end for us but I deserve to know who he is now seeing; when it is someone I am going to be seeing in church every Sunday. Wouldn’t you want to know if you were me’’ Desola’s eyes stayed on Ife. She saw her friend stop by the door before turning round.

“It is me Desola. I am the one Femi is seeing. We are planning to go to Nigeria together this Christmas, so, yeah it is serious between us. I hope oneday you can forgive us’’ With that, Ife stepped into the cold night.

****

Richard’s lips flung open as soon as he heard the door open. He knew it was Desola because the driver left at nine after doing his last delivery for the night and his sister-in-law, Ife had shortly come in to say goodnight. The poor girl enquired if he wanted her to deliver any messages to his wife, to which Richard had replied coldly, “No, I have a phone Ife”

“I am sorry Desola” Richard began as Desola walked in. “I am just having a terrible time…..” Richard stopped when he saw Desola’s face. She looked as if she had been crying. He leapt out of the chair and moved towards her where she stood by the new freezer starring at her bags as if she had forgotten how to pick them up.

Full Story: https://defavouredkings.com.ng/our-beautiful-angels-episode-3/


EPISODE 3



Richard backed away from Desola because he knew kissing her would not obliterate the hurt his wife’s actions had inflicted on him. After all, it was only five days ago he found out his son might not be his. His soreness was like pus, it didn’t matter how much dressing he chucked at it, it kept seeping through.

Richard went to sit on the edge of the office desk. He might as well listen to Desola. He used to love hastening home after a hard day’s work. The smell of cooking from the kitchen and the sound of Kenny chasing Taye over a raggedy doll or a fairy wand, welcomed him to his dwelling. On Fridays, they would eat out, not at Naija Spice, but at Pizza Hut, Gino’s Italian or he would pick up a few paper-wrapped freshly battered haddock and chips from their local pie shop for them. His wife did not like cooking on Fridays.

“Thank you for listening. I have to go now before it gets too late” Desola’s voice found him.

“No, stay please. I mean, I will give you a lift home. I am about to leave so it makes sense that I drop you off. I am going to your building anyway to check on a flat, I don’t know if Sister Grace told you that me and my dad have bought a flat in your building to let out” Richard spoke quickly.

“Yeah, I heard. Ife told me. But I have to go now….Uncle Richard…I failed an essay and I have to redo it. So, tonight when I get home, it will be coffee and five hours stretch with my laptop and journals” Desola told him because she could not come up with another excuse to leave. She did not really want to leave. But something was different about him. Usually on the odd evenings, he came to help his father; he hurried home after doing the books. His attitude to his father’s employees was pleasant enough, but you wouldn’t usually find him chatting to the female staff.

“You are studying something social work related, right? Richard asked.

Desola nodded, wondering if he would recommend she should approach his wife for support. Ife had told her that her sister, Eniola -Richard’s wife- had recently completed her masters in social work. She also knew that Eniola had become the manager of the women’s centre on Lloyd Street.

“Community and social care”, she told him.

“Which module did you fail?

“Interpersonal skills”

“Guess who the king of interpersonal skills was back in the day when I was at uni.” Richard slapped his chest, grinning. Desola smiled. She preferred the more animated version of him than the subdued one that always seemed to be glued to the side of his wife like an identical twin.

When he offered to help her with her essay she did not say no. He said he had eagle eyes, where grammatical errors and language syntax were concerned. When he offered to drive her home again, she did not say no either.

The drive to St Aidan’s Street took a couple of minutes. Habitually, during the mild-weathered days of summer, spring and early autumn she walked home. The winter climate would often force her to accept a lift from Ife’s father, Elder Iwoye, Our Angels’ deputy pastor. She did not like him dropping her off because Ife and her father didn’t live in Stratford but in Miles End.

St Aidan’s street sits off the busy main road where rows of business premises including the restaurant are tucked. The street itself, St Aidan’s street houses the modern twin block of flats where more Nigerians than other nationals live. Richard’s family occupy a detached house in the middle of the street. If you keep walking towards the train station, you were bound to see the shopping centre, the old library building and the vue cinema. The street after that, Lloyd Street is where the women’s centre and Our Angel’s church are. St Aidan’s school and church are on the other end of the street, clogging the area full with traffic at times.

He was quiet as they climbed the stairs; Richard’s pace uncharacteristically slow, stalling just behind her. Desola thanked him for her lift after they walked up to the first floor. She had hoped he would use the lift. He showed her the flat he had recently purchased with his father, flat three beside flat four. She felt his eyes on her back as she said goodnight and walked on to flat four.

Desola found Grace her older flat mate tucking into a meat pie as fat as a moi-moi with a full-size glass cup of what looked like coke-which Desola guessed was not the diet version. Grace still had her nursing uniform on. A few buttons of the tunic undone. She was sat on the black leather sofa in the room, her eyes glued to the TV, watching a repeat of Eastenders on BBC three.

“Sister Grace, I thought you finished your shift this afternoon” Desola said as soon as she noticed the latter’s uniform.

“It is true my dear, I got home ages ago” Grace said in her mild Ghanaian accent. “But Sister Agnes saw me in the lobby downstairs and said she had juicy news, so we went upstairs together. Guess what has happened dear” Grace reduced the TV volume and put her plate of meat pie down.

Desola’s eyes narrowed because Grace wouldn’t usually put her food down for anything. She also knew Agnes very well from church: she had a terrible habit of starting rumours and then sitting back and letting it spread like wildfire.

“What has Sister Agnes told you now, Sister Grace? Desola asked trying not to think of when Grace told them a lion was seen on an elevator in Oxford Circus or when she told them Pastor John winked at her during a sermon.

“Apparently, Pastor’s son, brother Richard has sent his wife packing. According to Agnes, they have been fighting like cats and dogs for sometime. I doubt that part is true because brother Richard is a good man. Pastor’s daughter-in-law is now back in her father’s house. I feel for her. Can you imagine the chaos this is going to cause between Elder Iwoye, her father and Pastor?

“Poor Sister Eniola, Desola mouthed. Her heart tugged for Richard. She hated herself for rushing to get away from him. “I really hope they work things out”

Full Story: https://defavouredkings.com.ng/our-beautiful-angels-episode-4/


EPISODE 4


“What has your poor wife done to deserve this Richard? She is back living in her father’s council flat when you are still alive. Did we not raise you well? If you have trouble in your matrimonial home, you call families from both sides and elders from the church to help you sort it out. As a matter of fact, I am sure Eniola has done nothing wrong. I am sure he is the one that has done something terrible, you watch Mary”

Pastor John turned towards his wife on his last sentence. His belly bobbed upwards and sweat dripped from his balding head as he spoke.

“Please dad today is a Sunday. I don’t want to dwell on the subject of my marriage which is already dead in the water. I have only come to see my children. Soon the matter between me and Eniola will be sorted” Richard said, his eyes on his mum’s face. Her eyes were wet. That hurt him beyond words. His wife’s actions was not just crippling him but tearing apart is nearest and dearest too.

Richard walked towards the double glazed window of the spacious kitchen of his parent’s home. His son Junior was outside in the back garden making a job of wetting his mum’s flowerbed. He knew his twin daughters were upstairs in one of the bedrooms upstairs because he could hear their racket.

“So, why did you not come to church again this Sunday Richard? Your children were so upset. Kehinde kept asking for you. This is why their mum asked us to bring them down to our house so you can come and see them or take them out” Pastor John said, his hefty frame still blocking the kitchen door.

“I took them out on Friday before dropping them off with Eniola yesterday” Richard told his parents.

“But you could still have come to church son. No matter what is going on in your personal life, you should never turn your back on God. I will go and get the twins” With that, Pastor John left the room.

Richard moved closer to the window. He could not stand the brick wall that now seemed permanently erect between him and his son. When he had arrived few minutes before, Junior had been in the kitchen using a laptop on the table. He greeted his father and swiftly left the room. Richard watched him from the window. Junior had finished wetting the flowers. He seemed to be texting on his new phone now.

Richard started to think again about the brown envelope that arrived by special delivery first thing Saturday morning. The envelope that contained the DNA result, he had sworn would not change anything. But yet, he had simply left the envelope unopened on the dining table. He had known then on Saturday when the letter arrived that he was not ready to find out he hadn’t fathered his own son. The irony of it was, when he called Eniola to tell her he wanted a DNA done to determine if he was Junior’s biological father, he had insisted on it. He did not think it was possible to move on without knowing for sure. Eniola voiced her reservations. But in the end, she agreed with him, it was the right thing to do. They then decided that their children would stay with her during the week. They would come to him every Friday after school. Eniola then started to plead with him again to which Richard had his usual response ready. “I am not ready to talk about it Eniola “. That was how they left their conversation.

Richard felt his mum’s hand on his back. He wrapped his strapping arms round her podgy frame. He saw her look up at his face.

“I am ok ma, I promise”

“Atleast let me put some rice and fish stew in a tuberware for you so you can warm it up in the microwave tonight. Or are you staying with us for dinner? Please stay Richard. I will make you amala if you want”, she pleaded.

“Mum, I ate at Lanre’s house. Thank you”, Richard knew his mum was trying to get him to stay until Eniola’s arrival later to pick up the children. Richard heard the twins before he saw them. Kehinde jumped into his arms screaming daddy before, he lowered his body to let Taye latch on to him too. They both smelled of their mum’s moisturizing lotion. The seven year old girls nestled their small limbs into his.



A while later, Richard was stood in the garden next to his son. He had stood in the same spot for a while, willing Junior to say something more than a monosyllable to him.

“Son, please don’t blame me. I am sorry about all this but don’t be angry with me”

“Mum keeps crying every time we go round to grandpa’s flat” Junior told him, his earth covered trainers digging into a weeded patch.

“I am sorry son”

“Don’t say sorry dad. Just do something and stop punishing me and my sisters. It’s so unfair that we are suffering because of you”. Junior shot at Richard before running into the house.

*****

Desola was on her way to check the mail box downstairs when she walked into Richard at the top of the stairs. He grabbed her waist to stop her from toppling down the stairs. He held on to her for a few seconds longer than needed.

She wished she hadn’t taken off her leggings as soon as she arrived from church, leaving her with half the outfit, a white short dress dotted with pink specks that stopped inches before her knee caps. She felt uncovered.

“Sorry” she managed.

“Hey sister, where are you running to? He chided her teasingly.

She smiled. Her braids were down, mimicking natural straight hair with their compact fullness. Her face looked unsullied with the tip of her nose bearing a hint of oil as if she had dabbed some cleansing lotion on her face to remove her make up. Her feet were in cerise flipflops, showing her red painted toe nails. He swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat when his eyes took him slightly to her upper legs. Her dress which looked more like a top stopped inches above the knees, lifting his mind out of the locker it had been in for days.

Richard had not seen Desola in a while. He concluded that she was avoiding him when she sent him a text message asking him for his email, after he requested to have a look at her essay as they had planned.

“Thanks for your help with my essay. I passed” she announced beaming.

“Welldone. Great news. That was a quick turnaround. How long does your feedback usually take?

“It came back quicker than usual. Thanks for your help” Desola was still beaming.

“Can I read the feedback? I am assuming you have a paper copy in the flat”, he asked.

Full Story: https://defavouredkings.com.ng/our-beautiful-angels-episode-5/


EPISODE 5


“Lead me to your bed,” he drawled: his hands lingering on her thighs which were now exposed- her dress having ridden up. He had pulled her unto his laps. His lips tried to claim hers again but her face moved to the side. His mouth settled on the nape of her neck, her fragrance hauling him in, rousing the part of him that felt bare. The numb part of him stripped of all feelings needing to feel complete again. One of his hands egged on by her soft moans searched furiously for the fastening on the back of her dress.

“No, please, stop.” She spoke first.

“Really honey?”

Richard’s tone, although calm did not match the forlorn expression on his fair skinned face. He tore his hands from her body. An attentive grin wiped the forlorn look off his face when he noticed that Desola’s hands were still placed on him. The bracelet adorned hand on his chest, playing with the minute grey buttons on his cobalt t-shirt and the other on his neck. She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Am I not attractive enough for you? Or am I just too ancient for you?” Richard’s thoughts poured out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

He said ancient instead of old because his son often used the phrase. He wanted to sound young to impress her. He wanted the old body he once had back. Although, he knew despite his son saying so, he didn’t look his age. He had always taken care of his body for his wife. Richard forced his mind to focus on Desola and not the wife that had lied to him for sixteen years.

She got up and put some distance between them. His good looks was the last thing on her mind. She told herself off for not stopping him soon enough, the way she would have spurned Femi her ex before he got that close. Desola wanted to yell at herself for letting him into the flat. From her spot close to the double glazed window, she could see into the narrow street that took her to the main road, the bus stop and train station on her way out.

A black couple walked past, holding hands, the woman carrying a bag Desola guessed housed a bible.

“I want you to go, please.” Desola turned to him where he still sat on the sofa like he owned the place.

“I really like you.”

“And you are a married man.”

“We are separated. She is back in her father’s home.”

“But, you are still married. You should be seeking counselling in church, not trying to complicate things by getting involved with me. Even if you were divorced, I wouldn’t touch you with a barged pole after the way you have treated her. You sent her from her home as if she is nobody and expect me to be your next victim…” Desola paused as he got up and started heading for the door.

“Did you cheat on her?….is that what happened? Did you tell her to leave because she refused to forgive you?” She raised her voice. How dare him.

She used to think he was a good Christian who analysed every decision and every path he took.

“No Desola”, Richard roared. “She is the one that cheated on me and lied for years until I found out from her lover that my son might not be mine.” He did not move from his spot, but had turned to face her. He stopped himself at the last word, wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth, but he couldn’t take the blame anymore for his wife’s actions.

“Forget I said anything. Please I don’t want anyone to find out, Desola. Please.”

Desola took measured steps towards him. She wanted to put her hand in his all of a sudden.

“I won’t say anything. But, are you sure? Why don’t you do a DNA test?” She continued when he ignored her questions. “You need to talk to someone you trust and then start to rebuild your life with your wife. Bottling things up will not help you move forward.”

“You are the first person I have told but honestly I can’t see myself discussing this with anyone. Tell me, who can I discuss this with, without creating more trouble for my wife. We both know what my father’s views are on issues like this. He will ostracise my wife from the church and our community.” Richard’s hand grabbed one of Desola’s. He knew he couldn’t talk to his friends either because of their respect for his wife. Their wives and his were friends.

“Then, talk to your wife. She is your partner at the end of the day. Forget this and talk to her.”