When my wife was three months pregnant, she wanted to go and live with her parents. From her parents’ house to where she teaches is very far. You have to take, at least two cars before you get to the school every morning. I advised her against it but she insisted she wanted to go. I gave her permission to go but in the end, her parents succeeded in making her change her mind. They told her it wasn’t a good idea and she listened to them.

One afternoon she texted, “I want to eat the waakye in my area, can you get some for me on your way home?” I called her, “You mean I should pick two different cars and spend several hours in traffic just because of evening waakye?” She told me that was all she wanted to eat. I played smart. I bought some waakye closer to my workplace and sent it home. She smelled it and said, “That’s not the waakye I’m talking about. This is not from my area. Why are you this wicked?”

So the next day, I bought the waakye from her area. I got home late in the evening but she was waiting for me to eat the waakye. The next time she sent for the waakye, I got home very late because of traffic. She was already sleeping. I didn’t want to wake her up but she got up later to see me watching TV. My wife started crying and accusing me of not being a responsible husband. “Ever since I got pregnant, you always come home at dawn. Is that how to treat a pregnant wife? What if something happens to me while here all alone?”

I thought it was a joke so I laughed. The only time I came home late was when she asked for waakye. Even that, I was home before 8 pm. I asked her to stop exaggerating and she got infuriated. She talked all night. I had to sleep in the hall that night.

I came from work the following day and saw a little girl in the house. She was wearing her school uniform and watching TV. I asked my wife what the girl was doing there and she told me, “She’s coming to live with us since you’re always not home until dawn.”

The girl was like eight years old. I looked around and didn’t see her bag or anything that suggested she was coming to live with us. I asked her, “Since when did you start talking to the girl’s parents about this that you didn’t tell me? And where are her things?” She responded, “You’ll buy new things for her. Her parents couldn’t afford to buy her clothes.”

She didn’t speak with the girl’s parents. She asked the girl to follow her after school and she ended up in the house with her. I held the girl’s hand and asked where she lived. I took her to her house only to meet a whole community looking for the girl. Her parents were on their way to the police station to make a report about a missing child. I apologized to them but they still didn’t buy my apology. They went to the school to report the issue to the headmaster and got an apology from my wife and the headmaster before they let it go.

Things didn’t feel right. “Or my wife is getting mad?” She didn’t behave like a woman who had her head well screwed on her neck. I told her parents about it and they called her. She called me a little boy just because I reported the issue. “Why did you tell them? So they can come and beat me? I never knew you were just a boy. Why did I even marry you? What did I see in you?”

A week later, I was at work when I saw my wife’s father calling my phone. He asked me, “What’s going on in your house?” I responded, “There’s nothing going on. Everything is fine.” He took a deep breath and said, “Your wife is here with us. She says she has divorced you. She doesn’t want to see your face again and has tasked me to call the police on you when you come around here.”

I was with my wife in the morning and everything was fine. She even took money from me for lunch and asked me to come home early because she didn’t want to be home alone for long. I told her father, “Maybe she’s joking. She had always wanted to come and live with you so maybe it’s a ploy to stay with you. We are very fine.”

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After work, I went there. Immediately she saw me she told her father, “He’s here. Go and bring him his drinks. It’s over. Hurry, don’t entertain him around here. He’s irresponsible. He’s childish. I can’t stay with such a man. Dad, Where’s the drink?”

We all stood there looking at her. I told his parents, “Let’s take her to the hospital. I don’t think she’s well. By this time her mother had started crying and begging me not to be angry. I wasn’t angry. I was scared thinking she was running mad.

She was still shouting for her father to bring the drinks. “Or you’ve drunk them? You’ve drunk the schnapps? Are you an ancestor? Something that was given to you for safety, you’ve drunk it. Why are you like that? Everything in a bottle, you’ll drink it.”

Her father doesn’t drink. Never in his life.

We took her to the hospital. Checks were done on her. The baby was healthy and according to the doctor, everything was fine with my wife. She suggested a psychological checkup. Days later, we sent her to see a clinical psychologist. She had to attend some sessions. She went once and stopped going. She was still insisting on divorce.

Currently, she’s eight months pregnant. According to her, we are divorced but days ago she called me in the evening. She said, “The fact that we are divorced doesn’t mean you won’t call to check up on your baby. You see why I call you irresponsible? You’ll do all this and still come and ask me to be your wife. I was right. Time has proven me right.”

Meanwhile, I called her in the afternoon and I was there with her over the weekend. Her parents take her to prayers every Thursday. They believe all is not well. I share their beliefs. All can’t be well but everyone says it’s because of the pregnancy and once she delivers, everything would be fine. I’m curious. I can’t wait for her to deliver and see how she’ll behave. Will she still remember that we are divorced? What would be her excuse for all the troubles she has taken us through?

I’m tired and restless. It’s like I’m carrying an emotional pregnancy, waiting to deliver and yet scared of what I’ll deliver. I’m praying for strength to carry on to the end but if this is all because of a pregnancy, then I swear this would be our last. The first can be the last too and that’s alright.

—Adam

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