It took us four years to make two children. I was good. I was no longer looking for kids. Two were all my finances could support but my wife wanted more. She wanted a girl, she told me. Later she said she wanted two girls to balance the equation. A woman who wants more never agrees to family planning so I decided to do it myself.

One early morning I booked an appointment for a vasectomy. Days later, it was done. I didn’t tell my wife about it. I didn’t want to break her hope or hurt her feelings so I kept it to myself. Two years later, my wife happily announced a new pregnancy.

She was joyous, dancing in the air like a falling leaf. I was stiff, disturbed and floating in confusion. She said, “I know you don’t want a third but at least, be happy for me. If it’s a girl, I will consider not having another one.”

I went back to see the doctor who did the surgery for me. “My wife is pregnant. Is it possible?” He didn’t want to tell me it wasn’t possible. He left a little room for doubt and told me to do a DNA test to confirm it. I didn’t have the money but I started saving towards the test. The baby, a girl, was six months old when I was able to do the test. I wasn’t the father. I wasn’t even close.

It was the hardest conversation to have but eventually, family members assembled for the conversation to be had. We ended the marriage right there. If I had the money, I would have run a test on the two we had but I took solace and hope from the resemblance to me. They walk like me and talk like me so they are mine, I told myself.

I married Angie a year later. Angie was a young woman who wanted marriage or nothing else. The age gap is ten years but she told me she didn’t mind. We dated for six months, took her home and performed the customary rites for her to become my wife. We agreed to sign in court later but we haven’t.

Being with Angie felt like the soulmate I missed. She was all over me doing things right and fixing the broken part of my life. I didn’t trust women but she mended me with her words and action. She became the best decision I’d ever taken.

Two years after marriage, Angie happily announced a new pregnancy. She was joyous, dancing in the air like a falling leaf. The only difference here is that I joined her to celebrate. “You’re going to be a father, she screamed. I shouted, “We are going to be parents.”

While she was on the sofa thanking God, I was by myself asking “How could she?” I looked at the mirror and laughed at myself. “You think you were running from the frying pan? Look at you walking through the valley of the shadow of death now.”

The child isn’t mine but I’m not angry. I lied to her when I didn’t tell her that I couldn’t give her a child. She responded to my lies with more lies and now see who’s hurt.

I Found Him In Church Cheating Instead Of Praying

I won’t leave her and I won’t cause a scene. I will take this one and pretend all is well but it won’t happen again. After this one, I will tell her we are done with kids. I will bear with this one and take it as my punishment for trusting that Angie couldn’t do it to me when we’ve all agreed to fear that gender.

— Paa Solo

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