THE BRA

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I was on the shores of Greece on the far stretched waters, the sun cast its golden rays upon the deck and the vessel swayed with the rhythm of the sea.

I wanted my life to be like this everyday, a vacation, with absolutely no worries from the HR team or an annoying customer. As the yacht sailed, I felt liberated, not a single care on my shoulder, I was just in so much peace and awe of the beautiful shores of Greece. The ride was a long one and I closed my eyes briefly to immerse myself in a peaceful rest, until I heard the sound of the alarm clock.

It was 5.30am.

Goodness, Greece was just a dream. I was back to my regular life. The one that required me to get ready to be at work before 9am.

I got out of the bed I shared with my husband Chike for three years. I walked into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and watched morning prayers online with my church home. I decided to fry plantain and make scrambled eggs for breakfast, but first I had to brew Chike’s coffee. I loved tea, but my husband could not do without coffee.

It was almost 7am when Chike came out of the bedroom in his suit and tie, he was ready for work, while I prepared breakfast, he was in the shower and getting ready for work.

“Good morning beautiful,” he greeted and placed his briefcase on the table.

“Good morning,” I said as I placed some plantains in the plate I was going to serve him with.

“It’s going to be a hectic day today, I have meetings back to back,” Chike informed me.

“Do you want me to pack up lunch for you?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, I will order food from the eatery,” he replied.

I didn’t like my husband eating from all the restaurants close to his office, because he usual had to send someone else to get the food, usually his secretary Linda. I didn’t like her for any good reason.

The first reason was because she was very attractive and she had a great body figure that made anything she wore scream of perfection. I was not blessed with the assets she had to draw men to her like a magnet, so the first reason for my not liking her was my insecurity.

The second, third fourth and every other reason would not make any sense, except she was always in close proximity to my husband, she spent forty or more hours a week with him in the office.

If there was any reason for her to lose her job, I would bring it on. I would fuel the fire and possibly set her up. She respected me, she greeted me well. She owed me that, but I didn’t trust her around my husband. He always spoke highly of her which made me even more angry.

“Okay,” I responded as I poured the coffee into his favorite red mug, one that we got when we went to Disneyland in Paris.

“What’s your day going to be like?” Chike asked.

“I have a presentation in the afternoon and a few errands to run before coming home,” I replied dryly.

“Sweet,” he replied and then took a gulp from the coffee mug while he scrolled through his phone. He seemed deeply engrossed with whatever he was reading.

He did this every morning. I cant shake off the feeling that something is up. He was glued to his phone, he no longer wanted packed lunch, he came home late and was too tired to watch a movie or eat dinner.

Last night his phone rang four times and he ignored the calls. I told him it was okay to answer, but he said it was his job and whatever they had to say could wait till morning.

He waited till I was asleep and he went to the bathroom and was there for almost an hour. I wasn’t sleeping, I heard every single noise, tip toe, phone notification. I heard everything but pretended to be asleep.

On the weekends when he was home, he would take his phone calls in a different room or in the car, or abruptly end phone calls when I walked into the room. I found it rather strange. My birthday was not coming up, so it didn’t sound like he was planning to surprise me. I felt it was something more sinister in my spirit.

We had not had sex in a month and he had stopped initiating. Whenever I initiated sex, he would pull the ‘tired” card on me.

I pulled up to the gates of my home at 6.45pm. It was a long day and the traffic made me tired and sleepy, but I left work early so I could beat traffic in certain areas of town. It worked. I needed to make dinner for myself. Chike may or may not eat, but regardless I would still make something. I could have ordered fast food, but I felt like cooking tonight so I stopped at the store and bought steak.

I walked into the house and turned on the lights and then the TV. I walked up the stairs and went into my bedroom to undress and take a shower. It was my ritual every single day. I listened to music through the speakers as I scrubbed my body with the liquid shea butter soap I bought when I went to London earlier this year. After my cold shower, I decided to wear my favorite lavender lounge outfit. It was not in the chest of drawers, so I decided to look in the clean laundry basket, it was not there. Strange. Maybe it was in the closet. I decided to look in the closet I shared with my husband, occasionally I put folded clothes in the drawer section of the closet. Chike’s clothes were neatly arranged in rows. He was a very tidy person. I opened the first drawer and took the clothes that were neatly arranged piece by piece. I opened the next drawer which consisted of socks and underwear, mostly Chike’s. Nestled in between two pairs of black socks and his boxer shorts was a bra. The lace trim glowed as the over head lights in the room rested on it. It obviously did not belong to me. It was not my size. It was a D cup, I wore a B cup bra. I had never seen it before, how did it get in here?

For a moment, time stood still as I tried to make out what was in my hand. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind and I could not make sense of a single one of them. I held onto the bra. It was now a reality. I could not unsee this and life in this house would no longer be the same.

With seething rage I picked up my phone and decided to make a phone call.

But to who?

to be continued

ON THE RUN (2)

You can marry a bad spouse but you can’t cope with bad in-laws.

His mother didn’t like me.

Since the first day, she laid her eyes on me.

I struggled for her acceptance, and each time it seemed like she found more and more things to not like about me.

I had to be myself and that was not enough for her. I should have left the relationship. It is one thing to date and marry a bad man, the choice is up to the individual. Having bad in-laws is a whole different ball game that you should never sign up for. The red flags came up in the dating process, but I ignored them. I believed we both loved each other and we would fight our problems together. That is another mistake-no woman or anyone should make. Once the odds are stacked high against you, you need to fold and walk away. The pain may linger for a bit, but at least you have peace of mind and sleep well at night.

I grew up in a peaceful nuclear family consisting of my parents and my two sisters. My parents were middle class. They were able to afford us what we needed. College was our parent’s goal for us and they made sure it happened for me and my sisters. Whatever life we chose after college was ours. They didn’t want to feel like they failed by not giving us a university education.

I graduated and became an engineer working for a top architectural firm. I met my husband at a conference, Akin Da Silva. He was a tall, handsome, milk chocolate, complexioned man. He came from money. Old money to be precise. His family owned a lot of investment properties and they were set for life. His father died when he was seventeen leaving his mom a massive estate in Beverly Hills. The rest of the property and money was split between him and his younger sister Bewaji. They were not allowed to have access to the money until they turned thirty-five. It was the stipulation in his father’s will so they had to make do with their monthly allowances or get a job. They had a college fund while the average kid applied for financial aid and worked twenty-four hours a week. He gave a talk at the conference. I was completely mesmerized by the way he talked and how he carried himself on stage. I stole the spotlight by directly asking him questions during the question and answer session of the conference.

He asked for my number after his talk on stage and we started dating. When I first met him, there was nothing that denoted wealth about him. He was just a regular guy who drove a 2001 Honda Civic. He lived in a moderate apartment and was going to grad school. We went on a few dates and became a couple afterward. I never met his family for the first three years. We spent the holidays with my family. My parents liked him, he was such a nice and humble man. My sisters hoped we would work out so they could have a brother. I smiled at the thought of being his wife someday if he asked me.

During Christmas, he asked me about my future plans and began to use the word “we” more often. He told me, that if things worked out for us, he wanted us to build a life together. I was happy. We were happy. I started grad school in January and took out loans to go to school. I was working on getting an MBA besides my engineering degree. It would be seen as a plus on my resume and that was what wanted.

A few months later, he proposed. I accepted his proposal. He was thirty-one, I was twenty-eight.

I knew no one is his family. He told me about his mom and sister. I had seen their photos. He told me his father had passed away. Those were the only things I knew about his family.

We had put an offer on a house, he didn’t want a big wedding. I wanted a fairy tale wedding but we had coughed up so much money on this nice house we were looking at. We had planned to get married the following year.

The progression of our relationship in hindsight was a red flag from the beginning.

Nothing prepared me for new revelations that were coming up.

One Saturday morning in November, we were snuggled in bed. We were watching TV and planting occasional kisses on our lips The doorbell rang. We looked at each other in surprise wondering who that could be. We were not expecting any guests and it was too early for Amazon delivery.

He got out of bed and threw on a white tee shirt. I got out of bed and followed after him putting on my robe.

He opened the door and a woman walked in. She seemed to be in her fifties, she was well dressed and had on sunglasses.

“You seem to be doing well for yourself Akin,” she said as she admired the house. Akin was silent. I took a closer look at her as she took her sunglasses off.

The woman was his mom. I recognized her from the pictures he had shown me.

“Who is she?” she asked him.

He looked at her and responded. “My fiancee.”

She eyed me up and down. I became uncomfortable. This was not the best way to be introduced to your future mother in law in my own opinion. I barely had any clothes on if not for covering from the bathroom robe I had on.

“So, she is the reason why you have lost touch with your family?” his mom accused.

I was shocked.