When she picked up the phone, she mentioned my name—not my first name or the middle name my friends usually called me by, but my full name. I was dumbfounded. “How did you know who was calling?” I asked. She responded, “Let’s just say I know who’s talking and move on.”

I asked if it was true that my husband had spent the night with her. She replied, “I can’t answer that. That’s between you and your husband.”

I then asked if she was happy being with a man she knew was married. She said, “He found you before he found me. Ask yourself why he came to me while you’re there.”

I was silent for a moment before saying, “Thank you for talking to me. I guess I’ve found my answer.”

She added, “And please, don’t call my phone again. I might not be as nice next time. Deal with him and leave me out of it.”

Although I had hung up, her words echoed in my mind: “He found you before he found me. Ask yourself why he came to me while you’re there.”

She implied I was a bad wife, which was why my husband strayed. But the truth is, before all this, our home was peaceful. We never had major fights. I treated him like a king, supported his dreams, and ran the home well. He used to brag about me to his friends. So what happened?

In my local parlance, there’s a proverb that says, “Nframa di whim whim fa adiɛ aa onya.” I can’t fully translate “whim whim” into English, but it roughly means patience is the key to winning. So, I decided to stop fighting him and instead channel my energy into saving our marriage.

I stopped bringing up the issue entirely. I put my “wife” cap back on. I cooked his favourite meals and cleaned up after him like before. When he came home late, I greeted him with a smile and said, “You’re late. The traffic must have been heavy today.”

I didn’t wait for him to initiate intimacy—I took the lead, but with patience and tact. One evening, while we were watching TV, I turned and saw him smiling at me. I asked, “Do you have something to say?” He shrugged and said nothing. Later in bed, he asked, “What’s all this about? What’s happening?”

I replied, “Someone has to change for things to change. After the incident, I drove you away. Now, I’m bringing peace back to this home. Maybe you’ll follow the peace and come with it.”

I also began taking care of myself. On weekends, I’d wake up early and go for walks. After a while, he joined me one morning. We’d compete on the way. “Let’s see who finishes first!” I’d yell. He often won, but sometimes, he let me win.

He started coming home early from work. When he couldn’t, he’d call and say, “Don’t think I’m late for bad reasons—it’s just work.” I’d smile and reply, “I know. You called to tell me, so it makes sense.”

Notice what he said: “Don’t think I’m late for bad reasons.” He had come to terms with the fact that the affair was wrong. I didn’t tell him—it was his realization.

One day, I invited him to meet me at a bar near his office after work. He came, and we ate and drank until late. I paid the bill. I did this only once, but a few weeks later, he began requesting similar outings. “Can you come by so we can go home together?”

When I could, I went. When I couldn’t, I explained why. Transparency became the theme of our marriage. I didn’t demand it—he brought it to the table when he realized it was necessary.

I won’t romanticize this phase. It was incredibly hard. I had to suppress my anger, feelings of being mistreated, and the memories of what I had read. But I stayed committed because I wanted to win my husband back from someone who had no qualms about taking what wasn’t hers.

It took over two years, but it worked. Yet, during that time, he was still seeing her—less often and in secret. They eventually had a fight, and I read her message on his phone: “Oh, now you remember you have a wife? If you knew where she took you, you’d start praying.”

I didn’t take him anywhere—I just stopped the whim whim and worked with patience. I’m a project person. I’ve led a lot of projects to successful commissioning. I’ve also taken over a lot of projects that were failing and pulled them out of the ditch. I don’t say these things to brag but I know how to build. I brought my project ideas into my marriage and to be honest, it was the most difficult project I’ve ever embarked on.

When it was over, I was drained. They were no longer together, but I felt empty. I’d given so much of myself that I couldn’t find my own pieces anymore. Small things made me angry, and I kept flashing back to the betrayal. Four years into our marriage, we still didn’t have a child. I felt hollow and began thinking, This wasn’t worth the fight.

He was happy and thriving, while I secretly planned a divorce. You realize all this while, I haven’t mentioned my parents anywhere in this story? They were toxic. Many times when I complained to them they dismissed me, saying there was no perfect marriage. Not once did they call my husband to tell him what he was doing was wrong. So I cut them off my issues.

When I decided to leave, the first people I told were my in-laws. They said, “We thought everything was fine. You haven’t brought any issues here for a while—what happened?”

They called him to ask what was going on. That’s when he found out I was planning a divorce. He was shocked. “I thought all was well,” he said.

I replied, “I thought so too—until you cheated. I’m not leaving because of the affair. I’m leaving because bringing us this far was exhausting. I’m afraid if I stop fighting, you’ll go back to it. Maybe you won’t, but that doesn’t make me less scared or tired.”

We’re now in court, going through the process. He told me, “Maybe if we’d had a child, things would’ve been different.”

I answered, “You were the one who said we should enjoy each other first. And then what happened?”

I Gave Him A Toffee My Pastor’s Wife Gave Me To Say Yes To His Proposal

Guess what. It’s been five months since the separation. The girl is back in the picture. They are living in the house I rented and he moved in when we got married. It makes me feel vindicated.  I’m no longer angry. Maybe I’m not his missing ribs. I forced myself to be. I’m gone. The right one has come. I tell everyone that this is not a sad story. It’s a happy story for me and for him. He’s happy with her. I’m happy with my life. We both won.         

This isn’t a sad story—it’s a happy one. He’s happy with her. I’m happy with my life. We both won.

— Adoma

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 submissions@silentbeads.com. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

*****