“You act like you ain't perturbed, Cecelia.” Mella said with surprise
and disgust written all over her face. “This was once your husband. I know he had his short comings but the way you're going about all this strikes a bad chord in me,” she added.
“Don't even act like you're innocent Mella,” Cecilia guffawed. “Didn't you take him out with that tool?” she said as she puffed on the cigarette between her fingers.
“I only acted on your command; but that doesn't make me a killer.”
“Can You just keep quiet and let me think? I paid you for this, so it's either you give back my money or keep shut that dirty mouth of yours for once.” Cecilia added.
“I fear for his life.” Mella said softly “You sold the only house you
both owned. You’ve taken his son away from him and at your command, he lies still in a hospital fighting for his life. I hope you have a rethink about this whole plan,” Mella finished while staring hard into space.
“I was born for times like this. He wanted a beautiful lady at his peril.
Did I beg him to take me off the streets? After all he knew I didn't love him yet he promised me the heavens and also that we would both forget the
past. I'm not going back until I ruin that fool's life.”


Every morning I watch the clock; feeling the weight of each strike as I struggle to overcome the lethargy of the night before. Drowning a bit before I can resurface, burning a bit before I can be reborn.
You know how it's said that when we die, our whole life replays before our eyes? Well here is a story of a man who dies every day.
Every day when I wake, my life is replayed before my eyes, and while I struggle to abandon this reverie, I'm stuck with the same questions, the "what ifs" and "maybes".
“What if I was another kind of man?”
“What if I was less of some of me and more of the other tidbits?”
“Maybe this wasn't supposed to be my life, maybe mother fate gifted me the life of another with more woes than I had it in me to bear.”
My story is simple, and like a lot of simple things, its simplicity was its trap.
I was a husband and a worker and I had everything I needed. There was no way I would've predicted, that my life would turn drastically from that morning.


I tried to make ends meet despite many sleepless nights. I am a hard working man in my late thirties but I already have more salted hairs than a man of ninety. It’s not because I am wise, neither was I born with it. I have been gifted these sorry grey hairs to remind me I live in hell. I wished I didn’t have to choose my wife just as I couldn't choose my parents. If the creator had chosen for me maybe my life would have turned out better.
I felt I could tolerate all of Cecilia’s excesses during our early days because her love overwhelmed me. Never imagined things could go this way because it never started like this – or maybe I didn’t notice.
Everything was in abundance when we met till things changed a few years back. She makes me believe now that she must have fallen for the paper.
She now picks calls from deeper voices. She also renamed Saturdays as Owambe days and I never dare to leave home without dropping cash if not, she will use my neck tie as a threat tool for suicide. That manipulative wretch of a wife tormented the living lights out of me. Now, she has sold our only house.


A man in agbada and shiny shoes knocked on my door that morning. He came with two hefty men behind him, he delivered the news with so much gusto saying,
“Young man, you must be the care taker of this house,” immediately the haze of sleep cleared from my eyes.
I was not sure I heard him correctly so I asked, “Mister what are you talking about?”
He said, “This is my house. I bought it from Cecilia the previous
owner.” He was boldly waving some documents in my face.
I was shocked. A sudden wave of cold began to seep into my bones. I just couldn’t believe it. I haven’t recovered from the anguish of the phone call I got from my bank manager yesterday. Cecilia had emptied our joint account! Now it’s my house - my sweat and blood! Cecilia has finished me!
I have been dialing her lines since yesterday but it’s been unreachable.
I was duped and rendered useless under the sanctity of marriage. Who will save me from this wormhole? I don’t know the hole she is hiding in but I won’t rest till I find her and demand why she has turned my life to a disaster zone. No I won’t stop searching. I really have nothing to lose anymore...


"Why are you standing there staring at me like a moron? How did
you even find me you low life son of a bitch?" Cecilia fired.
This woman is a real bitch. She still has the temerity to lambast me.
“Did she not notice the anger mixed with impatience oozing out from my eyes?” I thought and prayed under my breath. “Oh God, don't let me devour this witch". With all the calmness I could gather and all the strength I could muster, I asked,
“Cecilia what on earth have I done to deserve this suffering from
you?" “Really? Is this me talking?” I almost laughed at myself. I already concluded all hell will let loose when I see a silhouette of her. Here I was, standing before a woman I would give anything for but had taken everything from me.
"You see", she began and I could feel all the anger in her tone despite how calm she appeared to be.
“What could I have done to anger her this much? What could I have done to make her hate me?” I watched as her thick lips coated in black lipstick made the words,
"My son and I are so done with you Ken." she screamed at me. “how did you even find me?” she queried now. And once again, I couldn’t believe how I sounded when I spoke.
"A friend who lives in this neighborhood told me he saw you around here with OUR son. How could you bring my son to the house of Mella?
Knowing what goes on here…” I saw a smirk on her face. She was enjoying this. it was a game to her so I changed it immediately,
"Cecilia I need my house and my son back before the end of today!"
She spoke in a tone that I had not heard before with wide eyes,
"Not in your wildest imagination."

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