This story is culled from “Zikoko Daily Shorts”, a weekly series exclusive to the Zikoko Daily Newsletter. Subscribe here to receive the newsletter in your inbox every day and get more stories like this, as well as a round-up of our best articles, inside gist and quizzes.
This is Favour’s story, as told to Boluwatife
I was sorting laundry in the bathroom when my phone buzzed with a WhatsApp notification.
It was an unknown number with a DP of a woman I didn’t recognise. I almost ignored it until the first line of her message appeared as a preview:
“Favour, you don’t know me, but I need to tell you the truth about your husband.”
My heart skipped, and I opened the message with fear lodged in my throat.
The woman introduced herself as Maria. She said she’d been with my husband, Joel, for five years, and attached a photo of a small boy who looked disturbingly like him. The boy even had his dimples.
Then came the part that made my legs go weak:
“Joel told me you knew about us. He told me he stopped sleeping with you because he’s no longer attracted to you and can’t get it up anymore. But that’s a lie. He has an STI.”
I froze. An STI? Cheating? A whole child?
My breath shook as I scrolled.
It was true that Joel and I hadn’t been intimate for almost the entirety of our marriage. We’ve been married for 10 years, and 7 years ago, he suddenly became impotent. We bought countless medications, but nothing worked. We even secretly adopted our two children when people started whispering about our childlessness. All the while, he had a child?
Maria’s final line felt like an earthquake in my stomach: “He’s lying to both of us. Call me before he warns you.”
Before I could even process my thoughts, Joel walked into the house.
***
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I waited until the kids were asleep before I confronted Joel.
I stood in front of him in our bedroom, my phone in my hand and betrayal burning my throat.
“Joel,” I said, “who is Maria?”
He froze like someone had splashed cold water on his face. “Babe… don’t listen to that woman.”
“She said you have a child with her,” I whispered. “She said you told her you stopped touching me because you no longer find me attractive. But you were sleeping with her? How could you do this to me? After all these years of covering your shame and lying to our families that the kids are biologically ours?”
He tried to step closer, but I stepped back.
“You made me lie for years,” I said, my voice trembling. “I faked pregnancies to protect you. You said you were impotent. We even stopped trying because you claimed it made you uncomfortable. Now I know you just didn’t want me anymore.”
“Favour, it wasn’t like that. Please, let me explain,” he said, eyes red.
“Explain what?” I shook my head. “That you hid a whole child? That you let people call me childless for years while you were living another life in secret?”
He dropped to his knees.
“Favour, I beg you. I didn’t tell you because I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you.”
He explained that he had contracted Herpes from a random woman and stopped sleeping with me because he was scared of giving it to me. Apparently, he didn’t know how to bring up the idea of using a condom without me finding out he’d cheated.
I asked about the situation with Maria, and what he said chilled me to my bones.
***
When Joel and I got married, I thought I’d hit the jackpot.
Growing up religious, my mum had drilled the importance of finding the “right man” into my head for as long as I can remember.
I didn’t have boyfriends in secondary school or university. I was determined that the first man I’d ever give my heart to would be my husband. Marrying Joel was like the fulfilment of that decision, and I felt so lucky.
He was my first love, my first kiss, my first everything. I loved him deeply and was prepared to weather whatever storm life threw at us together. It was why I didn’t flinch even when he became “impotent” or when he suggested adoption without involving our families. I thought we were in it together.
But that night, as I stared at the man I’d loved for ten years, I felt everything crack.
I watched him silently as he explained how he started seeing Maria. Apparently, abstaining became too difficult for him, and she had mistakenly gotten pregnant.
What blew my mind was the fact that he had knowingly infected her with Herpes for his own selfish desires. It was the height of wickedness.
I realised he was a stranger. A man who consciously lied, cheated and denied his wife for years couldn’t be the man I fell in love with.
That was when I made my decision. I was leaving.
By morning, I’d packed a small bag for the kids and told them we were going to Grandma’s house. I avoided Joel’s eyes as he stood in the hallway, looking like a man watching his world fall apart. He’d begged me on his knees all night, but I couldn’t breathe in that house anymore.
I drove out of the compound, tears blurring my vision. But halfway to my mother’s house, my phone vibrated.
Joel’s elder sister was calling. She never called me this early.
Something was wrong.
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***
Joel called both families immediately after I left the house and told them I’d taken the children away because of a “disagreement.”
By afternoon, both families were gathered in my mother’s parlour: his father, his sister, my siblings and even an elder from our church. They didn’t know the extent of our disagreement. My mum was already saying something along the lines of, “Why will you just leave home because of a fight? When did you start that one?”
I smiled sadly. “Mummy, this isn’t just any fight. Did Joel tell you he has a child outside our marriage?”
Gasps filled the room, and everyone turned to Joel while he bent his head in shame. Or maybe it was embarrassment. Whatever it was, I no longer cared.
With a shaky voice, I explained everything to our families. How he had made me believe he was impotent, how we lied about my going abroad to deliver when we’d actually adopted babies and the revelation about Maria and her child.
By the time I finished speaking, you could hear a pin drop in the room.
After about three minutes of silence, his sister shot up. “Joel, is this true?!”
He covered his face and whispered, “I didn’t know how to say it. Please beg her to forgive me.”
The church elder looked at me and asked, “Favour, what do you want to do?”
I told him all I wanted to do was find a place I could go with my children. I didn’t intend to forgive him and play “happy family” after everything. I’d already wasted 10 years of my life; I couldn’t waste even more.
While the church elder and my mum tried to beg me to take things easy, Joel’s dad asked a question that made us all stop in our tracks.
“Where is Maria and the child now?”
***
While the families busied themselves with calling Maria and trying to arrange a peace meeting, I felt absolutely nothing.
Wait. That’s not entirely true. I felt intense anger and pain, but I was more concerned about how I was going to start a new life with my children.
When Joel’s father told me they were inviting Maria for a proper family discussion, I simply said, “I won’t be there, sir.” And I wasn’t.
I heard later that they agreed to support Maria and the child. Good for them.
As for me, the first thing I did after moving in with my mum was a comprehensive STI test. When I confirmed I was healthy, I found a decent apartment in town and told Joel to pay for it.
He didn’t argue. He simply asked for the amount and which of my accounts he could send the money to. When I told him, he made a final attempt to convince me to return home:
“Favour. I have sinned against you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me and come back. Let’s think of the children.”
“You still have access to the children,” I said. “But forget anything about me and you. You have the mother of your child to worry about.”
He sighed and ended the call. Minutes later, I received the alert for the amount I asked for. It felt like the final nail in the coffin. He had accepted we were over.
Ten years gone in just a few weeks. What would the next few years look like for us?
This story is culled from a weekly series exclusive to the Zikoko Daily Newsletter. Subscribe here for more stories like this.
***
It’s been three years since the Maria incident, and sometimes I’m shocked at how normal my life feels now. Peaceful, even.
Joel and I never officially divorced; mostly because I haven’t seen the need to go through the court stress. If he ever plans to remarry, he can start the process with his own money.
I don’t know if I can say I’ve forgiven him, but I don’t carry anger anymore. That doesn’t mean I’m interested in giving him another chance. That will never happen. He might even still be with his Maria.
We’re cordial, though. The kids visit him regularly, and I make sure he pays every bill he’s supposed to. We adopted them together, and they bear his name. They’re his responsibility, and fortunately, he handles that without argument.
My friends sometimes ask if I’ll ever consider love again, but I just laugh.
Love? As in romantic love? That’s the last thing on my mind.
These days, I’m learning how to show up for myself and my children. I enjoy finding new hobbies and watching my kids grow. That’s all I need.
Sometimes, I remember everything that happened and wonder at how far I’ve come. It’s a miracle I didn’t lose my mind back then. Maybe it’s something I should be grateful for. I went through the fire and came out stronger.
At the end of the day, I didn’t lose anything.
*Names have been changed to protect the subject’s identity.
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