Gladys is a colleague at work and someone I call a friend. She was working here before I was employed. She was very nice to me from day one, so we clicked from there. A few weeks later, everyone around here was wondering if we knew each other before we met at work. We would plan trips together and plan outings together too. Other colleagues were even envious of our relationship.

Gladys was married before I joined the company. When our relationship at work grew into what I call sisterhood, she introduced me to her husband, another calm soul who received me with kindness and even called me a sister-in-law. When they had issues, her husband could call me and discuss them with me and ask me to advise my sister.

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Gladys also knew my boyfriend, and my boyfriend also knew her. I wouldn’t stop talking about Gladys when I was with him, so he started referring to Gladys as my sister. I’m telling you all this to let you know how deep the relationship went.

At some point, Gladys spoke to me about things people were saying about her because she had been married and had not conceived yet. She didn’t say it in a way that suggested she was worried. She laughed and said something like, “They talk as if I had a child today, they would send money for their upkeep.”

She had been married for only two years. I joined her to insult those people, including colleagues who made that comment and it came to our attention. One day, George, a colleague at work, said something that drew my ire immediately. He said, “Gladys, when are you also going to enjoy maternity leave? Everyone is going except you and the unmarried ones.”

I quickly got off my seat and told him never to say that to a woman. He said he was playing. I said, “That shouldn’t even be said in the same sentence with ‘play.’ What is playful about this statement?”

A lot of people thought I overreacted, but I didn’t care. It was my friend we were talking about, and I was the one she was going to cry on when push came to shove. We discussed it. I told her to stop smiling at people who sought to use her situation even in jokes.

I got married too. She was there with me through it all, putting herself into every area of my wedding. Even my sister couldn’t do what Gladys did when it came to my wedding. If she wasn’t married, we would have gone on the honeymoon with her. Regardless, I was on the phone with her throughout my honeymoon, giving her gist, and she also gave me gist about what was going on in the office.

I came back from my honeymoon, and a few weeks later, I realized I was pregnant. I didn’t even want to believe it. My husband made jokes about it and said I trapped him just to quickly change his position from a husband to a dad. I was a little bit disappointed in myself for not enjoying my marriage for a while before pregnancy.

I kept it to myself and even from Gladys. Because of her inability to conceive after years of marriage, I didn’t know how to break the news of my own pregnancy to her. It felt like I was being insensitive. I don’t know, but I felt guilty about my own pregnancy. I remember telling myself, “How could you do that to your sister? How could you get pregnant before her?”

I kept it to myself for weeks. She suspected it and asked me, but I told her I wasn’t. I added that I wouldn’t be surprised if I was because I’d had a lot of sex since marriage. We both laughed about it. I was only paving the way for it to be easier to announce it to her.

The day I was ready and willing to tell her, she asked again, “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” I answered with a smile, “You’ve caught me.” And then I covered my face in my palms before saying, “I’ve been a bad girl, and this is my punishment for eating it day and night.”

She didn’t smile. She kept a straight face and said, “And you didn’t tell me? I’ve been asking you.” I apologized. I told her I was going to tell her about it first before anyone got to know about it. She retorted, “Everyone knows, and they were asking me about it, and I was telling them I didn’t know. Do you know how that makes me feel? Or you think I’m going to chew the baby if I get to know about it?”

“Oh, come off it. Why would you talk like that? You, of all people, should know me.” She retorted, “I thought I knew you. Unfortunately, I don’t.”

That was the last time the two of us had a face-to-face conversation. She started avoiding me from that point on. I called her husband and explained everything to him. He asked me to ignore her. She was only jealous. To make it worse, he told me Gladys went home and cried like a baby because I didn’t tell her I was pregnant. Her husband told me her tears weren’t about me not telling her but the fact that I had what she was fighting to have, so I shouldn’t be bothered.

I kept trying. I even texted her, telling her that no matter what she did to me, I would never stay away from her. “If you like, do your worst. That won’t push me away. You’re still my sister.”

She didn’t respond. She went as far as changing her office so I wouldn’t get to see her as often as I used to. I went to her new office and told her to her face, “You’re taking this too far, and it’s about time you knew it. If it were possible, I would give you this pregnancy so we didn’t have to act like we are enemies.”

She sacked me from her office, and that day, I decided I’d done enough, so I wasn’t going to do it again.

One of my colleagues who had suddenly become her best friend called after work one day to ask what was going on between me and Gladys.

I said we were fine. She said, “Just yesterday, she said she wishes you would miscarry so you would come off your high horse.” According to this colleague, Gladys had been telling people I started using my pregnancy to look down on her, which was the reason she decided to cut me off.

I cried that day, and that was the first time I told my husband about our troubles. I said I was going to her house and report her to her husband in her presence. My husband said, “You won’t do that. She’s not God. She’s just a friend. If she won’t be a friend again, leave her and live your life.”

I didn’t go there, but I so much wanted to let her know that I heard she wanted me to miscarry and see her reaction. I respect my husband so much I can’t go against his word, but you see, I’m beginning to hate her in return because I didn’t get the chance to address what I heard. It’s so unlike me to hate someone, but I see her and my temperature goes up. I hear her name, and I want to curse her. Sometimes I get the urge to rush to her office and tell her my mind.

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My husband says it’s my hormones acting up, but I swear this has nothing to do with my hormones. I can go to war with her now without thinking twice about my situation. This is also not helping my condition, but I’m respecting my husband. I don’t know for how long, but I know the only way to calm down is to have a conversation with her and address the miscarriage topic.

Is it worth it? Or, as my husband said, should I let sleeping dogs lie without hitting them?

—Mitchell 

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