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Episode 3: Who Are You Married To?
The day Ifeoma threatened to leave, my world tilted.
It wasn’t just the words—it was the finality in her tone. Like she had already packed her bags in her heart. Like the version of me she married no longer existed, and she was done trying to find him.
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to remind her that she married a man with principles. That I had never cheated, never disrespected her, never raised my hand or my voice.
But when you’re being accused of emotional betrayal, the worst thing to do is defend yourself logically.
Because hearts don’t listen to logic.
They listen to perception.
—
I left the house that evening, not because I was angry, but because I needed space to think. I drove aimlessly around the city, the radio on but the volume low.
Was she right?
Had I become more committed to Amaka’s family than my own?
Or was she just overwhelmed by the whispers, the gossips, the image of her husband being too available to another woman?
I pulled over at a quiet spot in Surulere and sat there for almost an hour.
Then I called someone I hadn’t spoken to in months—my pastor.
He listened quietly as I poured out everything.
At the end, he asked just one question:
> “Who are you married to, Ifeanyi—your friend’s memory or your living wife?”
—
I got home just past 10 p.m.
The house was quiet. The kids were asleep. Ifeoma was in bed, scrolling through her phone. She didn’t look up.
“I saw Amaka today,” she said casually, like she was talking about the weather.
I froze. “Where?”
“She came to my salon. Brought Uchenna for a haircut nearby and stopped to greet me.”
I swallowed hard. “And?”
“She apologized.”
That surprised me.
“She said she never intended to cause issues between us. That you were only helping out of loyalty, not lust. That it’s the world making it look like more.”
I exhaled.
“She begged me not to ruin our home because of what people might be thinking.”
—
Then Ifeoma sat up and looked me dead in the eye.
“But the question is no longer about what she thinks… or what they say.”
“It’s about you.”
“Do you still want this marriage? Because right now, Ifeanyi, it feels like you’re physically here but emotionally somewhere else. I watch you smile at your phone more these days. You argue with me less—but not because you’re calm, but because you’ve stopped engaging.”
“Do you still love me?” she asked, voice trembling now.
My throat tightened.
“Yes,” I said, without hesitation. “Yes, I do.”
“Then act like it,” she whispered.
—
The next day, I made a decision.
I met Amaka at a public café, ordered her a drink, and gently explained that I needed to take a step back.
“Not because of anything bad,” I said. “But because my family is bleeding, and I need to stitch it up.”
She nodded quietly. There were tears in her eyes.
“I understand,” she said. “I’ve leaned on you too much. Maybe… maybe now is the time I learned to stand fully on my own.”
We hugged briefly. This time, there was finality in it. No tension. No confusion. Just mutual respect.
—
Back home, I told Ifeoma everything.
And for the first time in months, she reached out and held my hand.
“Thank you,” she said. “That’s all I needed. To know that I come first.”
That night, we talked. Really talked.
No accusations. No tension.
Just two tired hearts trying to mend what suspicion nearly destroyed.
—
But here’s the twist…
A week later, I got a message from an unknown number.
Just five words:
> “So you chose her. Interesting.”
I stared at it, heart p******g.
Was this Amaka?
Or someone else entirely?
—
🔥 To be continued in Episode 4: Beneath the Surface Lies More
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