On our tenth anniversary, he said we needed to go out. In his own words, “Where the children wouldn’t be a bother.”

So I bought a new cloth fit for a place where the children wouldn’t be a bother. I bought a new set of panties and bra too. The ones that match. I figured after returning from the place where the children wouldn’t be a bother, we would have a showdown to draw down the curtains on our tenth anniversary.

FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX

He drove for about an hour to a place. The people there looked like they craved peace. They were seated with drinks before them, and the music was slow and undertone. You could hear glasses clink and whispers fill the air. It wasn’t the kind of fun I anticipated, but it was OK.

We ordered from the menu. Before the food arrived, he ordered some alcoholic drink—I don’t remember the name. Two sips later, he asked me, “Is this marriage the kind of marriage you dreamt of when you said yes to me?”

I thought for a while. He interrupted my silence, “Be honest.” So I started, “To be honest, no. I was young, so I dreamt of dreams. The marriage in my dreams was better. You loved me till our dying days. You rushed home after work to see me and the kids because we were all you had. You talked to me like you hadn’t seen me in years. We made love every night because that was all we had left after the kids.”

The waitress brought the food. She asked, “Anything else?” Looking at where the conversation was going, I ordered something that had soft liquor.

He asked, “Does it mean you regret this marriage?” I answered no. He asked, “Have you ever thought of cheating because things aren’t the way you dreamt of?”

My drink had arrived. I took a sip. And then another. He said, “Be honest.” The words came out slowly because yes, I’d thought of cheating. Even that very day before the night, the thought crossed my mind.

We hadn’t been intimate for close to two months because my husband was always out of the house. He comes when the kids are sleeping and is the first to leave the house. He hardly talked to me or the kids. He didn’t make us part of his days. He called the kids noisy and always pushed them away to me when they went to him for fatherly attention.

I felt I’d been left alone in the marriage while he went around having fun. Honestly, I thought he was cheating, the reason the thought of cheating also crossed my mind.

Slowly, I dragged the words out of my mouth, “Yes, I’ve thought about cheating. On several occasions.”

“With who, Johnson?” he asked.
“Oh nooo, you know me and Johnson are not on that level. He can’t do that to you even if I pushed myself on him. I don’t even see him romantically.”

He said, “I wouldn’t be mad if you cheated with him or anyone else. I will be fine. I wouldn’t have any problem at all as far as it didn’t come between our marriage.”

I was shocked. Millions of thoughts flashed through my mind in quick succession. “What do you mean? You no longer care about this marriage? Is that how far gone you are?”

Our food was getting cold. I’d lost my appetite, and the drink was also working. He beckoned to me to eat, but I was eager to hear him explain himself. He told me he cared about the marriage and didn’t want to distract the growth of the kids. He wants the marriage because it’s a good thing, but he wouldn’t mind if I did what made me happy.

“I don’t see myself carrying your happiness or being the reason you smile or exist. You can find those reasons outside the marriage, and I would be fine.”

We sat in silence. I tried to eat the chicken on my plate, but it tasted like rubber in my mouth. I was thinking of where we used to be and where we were in that moment. I asked him, “Are you cheating on me?”

He took a sip. And then another one. I interrupted, “Be honest.”

At first, he said he’d thought about cheating. Then he said he cheated once, and then he said, “Fu*k it, let me be honest. She’s pregnant. I didn’t mean to, but she didn’t want to abort. She’s currently five months gone, but it’s not the reason I said I wouldn’t be mad if you cheated. I want you to do what makes you happy, even if it’s finding happiness in another man.”

The place was immaculate. I didn’t want to stain it with my tears, so I held on to them until we were in the car going back home. My matching bra and panties were laughing at me for the failure of the night, but I sobbed while he drove in silence. When we got home, I rushed out of the car and quickly went inside. He stayed in the car for what seemed like an eternity. When he came in, he sat next to me and apologized, but all I did was sob.

He said he liked the marriage. I did too. I’d gone through the stale for the sake of the kids, and it was time for me to go through life for my sake too. It took me over a month to come to terms with what he told me. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t fight him. He kept apologizing while I went through healing.

I went to the barbering shop and pointed at one of those short hairstyles on the poster with long aboy and told the barber, “I want this one.”

A few minutes later, my permed hair was gone, and I was left with short natural hair that reminded me of the days everyone called me beautiful. I bought a new set of dresses too. I learned how to do makeup for every occasion. I spent long hours in the mirror rather than in the kitchen. I was a new creation. I went out with friends and attended events looking like a high school girl.

He would ask where I was going, and I would tell him. He would say, “Have fun,” and I’d respond, “You can’t command my happiness.” Late at night, he would call and ask if I had my keys, but I knew he wanted to hear the background and figure out where I was.

One night, I tried availing myself to a man who was with me all night, but the thought of doing it with anyone else while married felt repulsive. Still, I created the impression that I was seeing other men.

Sometimes he got jealous, but he hid his jealousy behind questions about the kids. “These days you’re not there for them. What do you think they’re saying about you?” I’m a mother. I know how to talk to my kids, and I know how to connect with them even when I wasn’t around. I found different ways to make it up to them.

Over a year later, I was going out one night when he snapped, “You’re not leaving here this moment. I gave you the freedom, but you’re abusing it.”

We fought in front of the kids for the first time. Our first child kept screaming, “Stop it! Why are you fighting? Stop it!” She cried while the others cried too. When we calmed down and were in our room all alone, he told me, “It’s enough. We need to rescue this marriage. Our kids look up to us.”

I told him, “It’s too late. I’m too far gone for rescue. I’ll take the exit. Let’s discuss that and how soon we can start.” He asked, “Are you serious?” I answered, “Very.”

So in April this year, we started the process. We still live together. He sleeps in the bedroom while I share the room with the kids. We both paid the rent together. Maybe we’ll see the end of our rent, and if by that time the divorce isn’t finalized, we’ll decide who’ll stay and who’ll find a new place to live.

I Was Fine Until I Was Alone In My Room

He’s not bitter. I’m not angry. We treat each other with respect. We don’t talk much, but we talk mostly about the kids and their schoolwork and daily activities. I still cook for us. When he wants a certain food cooked for him, he gives me money, and I do it. His new hobby these days is to compliment me each day when I’m leaving the house. Yesterday, he told me my hair had grown and even showed me a haircut style I should do.

Maybe he’s keeping up appearances so the kids won’t feel bad about our situation, but kids ask questions, and slowly I’m letting them in on what’s happening. They’ll get it, I know. They have adaptable hearts.

—Cynthia

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******