When we were dating, my husband took me to a lady he said was a very good friend. Her name was Martha. She received us warmly and even advised me to take good care of my husband because he was a great man. Martha was wearing a wedding ring, so I presumed she was married. She cooked us a good meal and hosted us for over two hours.

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When we were leaving, she offered to drive us home, but my husband told her we were going somewhere else. We talked about her on our way. He told me they had been friends forever and that her husband was also a very good friend. Before her husband traveled abroad, he left her in his care, which was why they were so close.

I would go to my boyfriend’s house and see meals in his fridge. I knew he couldn’t cook. When I asked, he told me it was Martha who had brought them. At first, it felt okay, but when Martha became a constant name in our relationship, I started to get worried.

“Who are you on the phone with?”

“Martha.”

“Where did you go?”

“I was at Martha’s place.”

“Let’s go out for fun this weekend.”

“Yeah, there’s a place Martha took me to some time ago. We can go there.”

He made me feel like his whole life had revolved around Martha. I questioned their friendship sometimes, and he got defensive. He said, “Don’t be like that. Don’t you see she’s a married woman?”

During our wedding, Martha came dressed like she had paid for the entire wedding. She came with great gifts and great vibes and was the life of the party during our reception. Even my mom and sisters asked me who she was.

After marriage, I expected to see some boundaries. I wanted Martha’s name to come up less often, and I wanted our conversations to be centered on the two of us. One day, about three weeks after our wedding, my husband told me we should go and thank Martha for everything she had done for us during the wedding.

We got there, and once again, the reception was top-notch. The food, as usual, was great. This time, Martha wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. I asked my husband, “She doesn’t wear her ring when she’s home?” He answered, “Why were your eyes on her finger enough to notice she wasn’t wearing a ring?”

Later in a conversation, he told me their marriage was almost over because her husband hadn’t been coming home as he had promised and also hadn’t made any plans for Martha to join him. My heart skipped several beats. Something didn’t feel right, and I began to feel she would start making advances toward my husband once her marriage was over.

So I also became very defensive. Whenever he mentioned Martha, I told him to focus on his marriage enough to be able to mention my name everywhere too. There were little fights here and there. My husband called me jealous but assured me he had no feelings for Martha.

One night, I woke up and realized my husband wasn’t beside me. I figured he had gone to the hall to watch TV. When I got there, he was standing next to the curtain with his phone to his ear. Who was he talking to? Martha. Martha was having an emotional meltdown, and she needed someone to talk to.

“At this time? Can’t her emotional meltdown wait until morning?”

He called me insensitive and said I was a woman without compassion for a fellow woman. To be honest, I got so angry that I decided to call her and tell her exactly how I felt. On the other hand, I felt talking to her woman to woman would help resolve the issue better than reacting in anger, so I went to her house and spoke to her about everything.

“I’m an overthinker. I know there’s nothing going on between you two, but my mind won’t rest. My husband doesn’t want to listen, but I know that, as a woman, you’ll understand my concern.”

We talked nicely. She even served me drinks and some biscuits because, according to her, she hadn’t known I was coming. I got home to meet my husband burning with rage.

“How dare you? Who gave you the right to talk to Martha the way you did? What kind of silly bravado is that?”

He wouldn’t let me explain. I said the conversation wasn’t confrontational. It was just a woman-to-woman talk. He asked why I hadn’t discussed it with him first. I apologized for that, and he told me, “You need to apologize to Martha too. What you did was uncalled for. Call her now and apologize before morning.”

Martha listened to my apology and said, “It’s fine. Every woman would do what you just did, but sometimes you have to be circumspect.”

I was boiling. Look at someone telling me about being circumspect. How dare she? But I kept my cool just to restore peace in my marriage. Aside from the apology, my husband wanted to take me to visit her and apologize in person. I refused. He said then I didn’t mean the apology, and I told him to take it however he wanted.

One afternoon, my husband came home with a bowl of stew and banku. He said he had passed by Martha’s house, and she had given him the food. I said, “Take it back. This food won’t enter this house, I swear. I’m tired of the disrespect.”

It turned into a struggle between the two of us. I pushed, he shoved, and the stew spilled onto the floor. My husband spoke to me as though I were a girl he had picked up from the street. I cried, but in the midst of my tears, I told myself, “If I remain here, I will never be treated with the respect I deserve.”

The next day, I left the house. I didn’t pick up his calls. He called my parents to ask if I was there. They called me, and I told them I was with my sister and that everything was fine. I narrated the story to my sister. She also shared it with my parents. They called to tell me it wasn’t something to break a marriage over and that I should go back. I never did.

One afternoon, we heard a knock on the door, and it was him. I knew it was my parents who had given him my whereabouts. He wanted us to go home. I asked him to go and marry Martha and leave me alone. He insisted, and I told him the only condition under which I would return home was if we went for counseling again to resolve our “Martha” problem.

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He said we didn’t need to do that. I told him to leave me alone. He’s still pushing me to come home. Come home and face the same issue again? No. Or am I being difficult? My sister thinks he has learned his lesson, so I should go back. Do you believe he has learned his lesson and that Martha won’t come back to haunt us again?

—Kuukua 

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