My husband had been the one to pay the kids’ school fees. He took them to school himself and brought them back home every evening. His office is close to the school, so he handled everything concerning the kids’ school activities. I would only hear about what went on at their school when the kids told me themselves.

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My husband traveled. He was going to be away for a while, so I took charge of the kids and their school activities, just like he would do if he were here. The day I went to pay the kids’ school fees, the bursar asked me, “Are you paying for only these two kids? How about Jones?”

I asked, “Who is Jones?” She responded, “Their brother in Class Two. Have you forgotten?”

I was lost for a while, and she saw my confusion. I asked, “My husband has been paying for Jones?” She hesitated for a while and then said, “Maybe he will pay when he comes.”

The next day, when I went to the school, I went to Class Two and asked about Jones. His teacher asked him to stand up, and he did. I swear, even if he hadn’t been asked to stand and I had been told to look through the faces of the children and identify Jones, I would have chosen him. He looked like a carbon copy of my husband. He resembled him even more than my own son.

I stood there, goosebumps all over me. I looked at him for a while before asking who brought the child to school. The teacher said she didn’t know. The next day, I went to the school very early. I stood at a distance and watched to see who would bring the boy. Several minutes later, Jones came out of a taxi without anyone accompanying him. It looked like the taxi driver brought him.

After school, I was there again. I waited until the taxi driver arrived to pick him up. I followed them until the taxi dropped the boy in front of a gate. From my house to Jones’s house is about a ten-minute drive—not too far. I kept asking myself, “When did this happen that I had to find out by accident?”

I waited patiently until my husband returned. That very evening, even before he had something to eat, I asked him about Jones. He stood there watching my face. I said, “Go ahead. When were you going to tell me about him?” He asked, “Who is Jones, and why should I know about him?”

I answered, “That boy in the same school as your kids. He’s in Class Two. He lives ten minutes away from here. Should I take you to his house so we can both ask the same question? And why are you the one paying the fees for a boy who is not your son but looks exactly like you?”

He went silent and looked at my face as if he were seeing a stranger. “Please talk. I don’t want this to drag on. Just the truth, and we’re done. Is he your son? I know he’s your son. I trust you that much—but why are you paying fees for a boy who is not yours yet resembles you so much?”

He kept looking at my face. He didn’t have to say much for me to get all the answers. His guilty demeanor said everything without a word. “He’s your son, right? Just say something.”

He stood still, fingers twitching but body frozen. I said, “Maybe you don’t have answers, so tomorrow I’ll go to the boy’s house and ask his mother why she has a son who looks like my husband.”

Then he quickly came back to life and said, “You don’t have to do that. I’ll explain.”

When I was pregnant with our first child, that was when he met Jones’s mother. He gave her a lift, and it turned into a relationship. They dated until she got pregnant. Doing the math, it was clear she conceived when I was eight months pregnant. Guess what—the lady is a divorcee with two children already, and my husband added another one to make it three.

As for why Jones was attending the same school as our kids, he said the mother was extorting money from him in the name of fees and other extracurricular activities. They fought, and he decided it was better for the child to attend the same school as our kids so he would know exactly what to pay and when to pay.

It was my turn to go silent. I was shocked. I was dazed. I felt everything at once. “Why? Do you want my dad to be right? He didn’t want me to marry you. His reason was absurd, but looking at this, maybe I should have listened.”

Then he made the statement that made me want to leave the marriage instantly. He said I denied him sex when I was pregnant. I pushed him away too often, so he became frustrated and went to that woman. I swear, I wanted to hit him with something. The fact that he was reminding me of the most difficult time in my life sounded insensitive.

My first pregnancy was very difficult. Many nights I wished for death because the pain was too much. I didn’t sleep for days. My blood pressure was through the roof—medication didn’t help. I spent more time in the hospital than at home, yet he wanted sex. He should have been praying for my survival, but instead, he used it as a reason to get another woman pregnant.

I was breaking down, but I didn’t cry at first. I went to the kitchen, served myself a plate of rice, and started eating. I don’t know when the tears started falling. I needed someone to talk to. The fact that teachers at the school knew but I didn’t made it even worse.

He came to the kitchen to apologize. He asked what he could do to make things right. I told him to turn back the hands of time and undo meeting Jones’s mother.

He begged. He said I shouldn’t leave because of the kids. He said he would do everything to make things right again—to the extent that I wouldn’t even remember Jones existed. I kept my response to myself, but since that day, I haven’t been the same. He has removed the boy from the school and taken him elsewhere. His parents and siblings didn’t even know until I told them one by one. Of course, everyone focused more on saving the marriage than on what had actually happened.

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My parents are aware. They didn’t react any differently from his parents. I knew I was alone in this battle. It’s only me who can make myself feel better about my situation. So now, I’m here making plans for me and my children. My husband thinks I’m planning something sinister, so he keeps asking, trying to find out what I’m doing.

Yes, there’s a plan. He knows there is. But I’m not foolish enough to lay all my cards on the table. The ace is held close to my chest. I will win, and my children will have a better life because I win.

—Dorinda 

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