Last week, we continued the story of a lady, who stayed for long in what appeared to be a good relationship with her first love, but decided to call it quits when friends and family members were waiting for the wedding bells because she was sure that, for her, the relationship had been all about pity. This week, the story of her sojourn in the home she built with the man she eventually married continues.
When my mother-in-law arrived on that fateful day, I went outside to welcome her, but she practically ignored me and also did not respond well to the children, who had followed me out to welcome her.
I thought it could have been as a result of the long journey, so I disregarded that behaviour. But I noticed that things took a new turn in the house. Usually, whenever we wanted to eat, I would eat with my husband in the same plate, while the children would also sit at the table to eat their food. But the very day my mother-in-law arrived Lagos; that changed. My husband would take his food to his mother’s room and they would shut the door and eat together. There was a day my son wanted to take his food to join them because he was missing his father at the table. Immediately he opened the door, both of them (mother and son) shouted at him to get out and shut the door. I can remember vividly; my son came out, sobbing like he had been whipped.
That trend continued. I no longer had the ears of my husband, all because of a pregnancy that I didn’t put there myself. The relationship between us had strained greatly and I couldn’t believe he was the same man I got married to six years before then. He would insult my siblings and join my parents, calling them all sorts of names, but I always tried as much as possible to ignore the insults, praying that the devil would be chased out of our home sooner than I could imagine. He was, however, no longer talking about the pregnancy. It was as if he had agreed for me to keep it.
For the concluding part of this story and others, grab your copy of The Point from your nearest vendor
