My name is Bunmi, and I am 31 years old, married, and the mother of three wonderful children, two boys and a girl. I work as a customer service representative in a bank. The pay is not much, but it’s better than doing nothing. My husband is a very rich man. He provides all I need and takes good care of our kids. I don’t spend a dime on my salary, except when I just want to be extra. He is 36, and from Anambra State, while I am from Lagos State. He is what every woman would call a very good husband. He opened an account, which he puts money into, more than once a month for the kids and me.

If you’ve read to this point, I know you will be wondering why I sold his house without his consent and ran off with our kids to the United States, if he’s this good and more. Alright, let’s get to the story. Here’s what happened!

I met my husband when I was at the university in Lagos, and we dated for 11 months before getting married. It wasn’t really easy, being that I am a Yoruba lady, and he is Igbo. His people tried all they could to make him not marry me, but he insisted. My family had no issues at all, they welcomed him like he was their own. When we married, I was in my third year of college and he had just finished his youth service. He comes from a very wealthy and connected family, so it wasn’t difficult for him to get a well-paying job, as a tech guy in an oil company. He built the house we lived in, which I sold, two years into our marriage, the same year our first son was born. It was an 8-bedroom duplex, all rooms ensuite, with a swimming pool, gym station, mini farm and playground, for the kids.

We were doing so well, with no cases of infidelity or serious problems in our marriage. When I was pregnant with our second child, he got a way bigger job in the U.K. At first, he didn’t want to go, but I persuaded him, I really wanted my kids to go to school abroad, and the perfect opportunity presented itself. I encouraged him to take the offer, because, I thought he would take his family along so that I will deliver my baby there. Unfortunately, my sister misplaced my international passport, so I hadn’t the time to file a report and do something about it before it was time for his visa to be processed.

He left when I was 7 months pregnant. We agreed that I will go ahead and deliver my baby in Lagos, after which I will sort out my passport and apply for a family visa, for us to join him there. This was 8 years ago. By the time my baby was 6 months old, I told him I was ready for the visa, and my passport was sorted, but he convinced me to hold on, that he wasn’t properly settled and ready yet, for us to join him. Thing is, I never doubted my husband, not for once, I had absolutely no reason to doubt him. So, whenever he told me to hold on and be patient, I always indulged him.

I decided to stop bringing up the matter after he had stayed there for more than a year, and I got a job to keep myself occupied. His cousin was living with me, including my house-help, it wasn’t a problem leaving my kids with them and going to work, every day. He also supported it. 2 years after he left, he came back and stayed for 6 weeks. There was still no reason to suspect or question his decisions. He gave us maximum attention, was a hands-on dad and husband, and even followed me to the salon, at some point, something he hadn’t done before.

I was so happy and felt on top of the world, it was as if his 2 years in the U.K. increased his love for me. He was always reaching out to me while I was at work, asking how my day was going, sending me seggsy voice notes and endearing messages, he couldn’t get his hands off me.

The night before he went back to the U.K., I brought up the topic of joining him over there, and he subtly turned it down, with reasons that made sense to me at the time, or so I thought. He said he was saving up to buy us a house there and that he didn’t want us to live in a rented apartment with him when we had a massive house in Lagos. I nodded in acceptance, without questions.

A few weeks after he left, I found out I was pregnant with my third child, which turned out to be a girl. The communication was very good, I wasn’t calling or writing to him much, because he was always calling and writing to me, all I did was reply to him and pick up the calls. We spoke every day, morning and night, and sent messages in between. Another 2 years had gone by before we saw him again. Nothing changed, it was the same treatment from him, as the last time he came back.

It was on that trip he bought me a new car and 4 plots of land, as my birthday gifts. My friends and my colleagues were envious of me, they were praying to meet a man like my husband, I felt like a true queen.

Once in a while, I expressed my desire to live with him, distant marriage wasn’t what I signed up for. I wanted to live with him so badly, getting visas for us wasn’t going to be a problem; we had all our credentials that were guaranteed. I wanted him to be a part of our kids’ lives and spend Christmas with us. Since he moved to the U.K., he has never been around for Christmas, the first time he came back was mid-year, the same as the second time. He said it was difficult to leave during the Christmas period, as he works a lot during that period. He assured me he was working out something so that we will finally follow him to the U.K. I completely believed him.

He went back to the U.K., and we continued our distant marriage. He was making all the money for our kids and me, to spend any way we wanted, but I was the only one raising the kids. All the hospital visits, the sleepless nights, the school issues, watching them grow, being there for them, the milestones—he wasn’t witnessing any, except the occasional video clips I send to him from time to time. Throughout it all, I never stopped loving and trusting him; I never doubted or cheated on him. I didn’t create the room for any man to want me in that way, it was only my husband and my husband alone.

Because of my constant complaints about how much I missed him, he started coming back once a year, instead of twice a year, his 6 weeks were reduced to 4 weeks, but I accepted it that way. It was better to be seeing him once a year than once in 2 years. My husband knows how much I love segggs, I do not joke with it, my body longs for it, I have exhausted all the tõys in the market, trying to calm my nerves, while I wait for him. Each time he visits, he makes sure to mekwe me every single day, until he goes back to the U.K. My bone-straight hair is on steady brush by him.

During the weekends, I collect morning and nights, sometimes, morning, afternoon and night. I tell him what I want him to do, and he does it happily, without questions. Angie, You see? I got the best husband, or so I thought.

All the misunderstandings and quarrels we had in the marriage ended with him always being the bigger person and apologizing. He knows I know how to ignore; I will not communicate with him for days until he starts begging. I know you will ask, “What if I am the one that offends him?” You don’t have the luxury of asking me such a 🙄, but because I am generous, I will give you an answer, which is, wives that their husbands left in Nigeria with the kids are never wrong. 😒 It is not easy to be a married woman who acts as the man and woman of the house because the husband is living abroad. We are never wrong. 😠

In his 4th trip back home, which is 6 years in the U.K, my younger sister got U.K visa with her daughter, she’s a single mother, but the father of her baby has been supporting her financially, in taking care of the child, according to her. She’s 2 months older than my first son. I was so happy for her, I figured it would be a good thing for her to go and live close to my husband, so as to help me keep an eye on him and help him make Nigerian dishes, sometimes. He complains of how much he misses it. When I spoke to my husband about it, he didn’t let me finish talking, he rejected the idea, and said he doesn’t want my sister to know where he lives, that it’s not wise.

He spoke in a way that made sense to me at that time. His wife doesn’t know where he lives yet, he is not about to allow his wife’s sister to be the first to know. He didn’t even want to be on same flight with her, he told her to go on her own, if she needs guidance, she can always reach him on WhatsApp. I didn’t push for it, I supported him, and told my sister to find her way, if my husband wasn’t living in the U.K, she would have still gone and survived. My sister left 2 days after he went back. As usual, everything was going so well.

I remember my sister telling me that I was making a big mistake, she told me I trusted my husband blindly, that I was acting like someone that wasn’t smart. She insinuated that my husband was cheating on me, something was fishy to her. She didn’t understand how a very rich man that claims to love his wife and kids, would be making flimsy excuses for his refusal for us to join him abroad. She told me to permit and equip her financially, to investigate my husband when she gets to the U.K, but I laughed it off, I told her to clean her mouth and never utter such about my husband, ever again. My husband is not like the man that impregnated her and refused to marry her.

That night, I told my husband everything she said. The good and trusting wife in me was still rolling in action. I know, I was gullible, maybe because of his mighty gbola that rubs off my senses … oh, dude can grind from lagos to manfe, his 👅 has power and magic, he works wonders with it … hmmm … or the too much money, attention and care that he kept pumping on me, even in distance. He was so angry, I had to kneel to beg him not to react. He was going to chase her and her kid out of our house that night, because of the advice that she gave me.

Two years after that incident, my sister and her daughter was already settled in the U.K, when she told me she saw my husband in a certain mall, but he ignored her greeting, I was surprised, it was so unlike my husband to do such. I couldn’t believe he was still sulking over what my sister insinuated. I apologized to her on his behalf and told her to also ignore him the next time she stumbles on him, it wasn’t really a big deal to me. I spoke to my husband about it, he confirmed that he saw her, but wasn’t going to stand and exchange pleasantries with someone that wanted to break his marriage, someone that was trying to spoil his wife, he doesn’t want to be close to such a person.

Few months later, he came back to Nigeria. It was Christmas period, he didn’t tell us he was coming back, unlike other times. We were so surprised and excited to see him. I had planned a trip to South Africa, with the kids and his cousin, my house-help travelled to her village, to see her parents. He jumped in and got his visa immediately, to go with us. It was a one week Christmas trip. We went out every day, in Jo burg. I would look at my husband with so much love and admiration. I sent my sister a voice note, narrating my happiness and enjoyment on the trip, with my husband and kids, I gave her a lot of details in excitement. She told me it was too good to be true, that she feels something was off, I pushed it down to jealousy, and let her be.

On the 5th day of the trip, we had a sightseeing planned, but I was exhausted from the day before. I begged my husband to go along with the kids, while I put my legs up, drink some juice, Netflix and chill, in our hotel suite. I decided to tap on my laptop to check my mail, but it wasn’t responding. The laptop was having minor issues, but I didn’t have much time to get a new one and set it up before we left lagos, I decided to travel with it like that, it was just for a week.

After I tried to boot it and it wasn’t coming up. I sighted my husband’s pristine, extremely expensive laptop, sitting pretty on the table. I turned it on to use it … ‘enter password’, was boldly written on the screen. I picked up my phone to reach him and ask for his password, but I couldn’t get him. I guessed he was out of network coverage or something. I started trying out all the passwords that I had seen over his shoulders in the past, I tried up to 5 times, before I got it right. Before then, I never had any reason to use his laptop, not even while we were still living together, before he relocated to the U.K, I always used mine.

His mail was open, plus a few other tabs. I was going to go straight to opening a fresh tab and sign into my email, but something stopped me. Out of curiosity, without any single bad intentions, I decided to snoop. I started reading his mails. What I saw, almost gave me a heart attack. Angie, I couldn’t believe my eyes. My body was shaking and sweat was starting to break out, my palms got sweaty, the room became so hot, as anxiety set in. I couldn’t stop myself, Angela Nwosu, I’m telling you the truth. I kept going on and on and on and on. It felt like I was dreaming. I checked the username on the mail again, to make sure it belonged to my husband or it was for someone else.

What I saw was unbelievable, I never imagined that my husband could do such to me. I will tell you the painful things I saw, in the next chapter.

I know you’ve been so impatient to know what I found in my husband’s laptop. Okay, let me not stretch it any further and simply cut to the chase. Remember that cousin of his I always mention that is living with me? Yes, same 14 years old girl, started living with me 2 years after I got married, is my husband’s child. He claimed she is his mother’s youngest sister’s child, who dìed many years ago, while giving birth to her. The girl was living with his parents before we got married. She’s such a sweet girl, I didn’t dispute, the moment his mother insisted the girl must live with me, no part of me suspected anything.

I wanted his parents to fully accept me, so I took the girl like my younger sister. Plus, my husband begged me not to treat her like a house girl, that she’s family. She goes to the best school and gets the best things my kids get, as well. I saw mails he shared with a certain someone that I’ve never heard of, after going through all his sent messages to the person and his primary inbox, I discovered that the lady is the mother of his ‘cousin’. Some of them were sultry messages of how he deflowered her back then, and the things they did after that, while the rest centered on how well the ‘cousin’ was growing and doing in school. The lady is married with kids, I figured from his pleasantries to her. Some of the messages had pictures of her nàked and doing stuff. He even asked her when she will visit the U.K. again, that he has greatly missed her. Apparently, she has been visiting him, while I am here, keeping the home-front, acting the good, faithful and trustworthy wife. What a wow!

I wondered why he didn’t marry her. What happened that made him call his own child a cousin, and why the lady in question got married to someone else and is still in a relationship with my husband. Why they were exchanging emails instead of phone conversations or normal chats. My husband is 36, which means he had her when he was 22. My head was bursting with too much questions, anxiety was dealing with me, my throat was so dry, hands still shaking. I brought out my phone and snapped a few of the messages, then turned off the laptop and started crying, waiting for him to get back. I was going to blast him as soon as he walked through the door, I was eagerly waiting. As I was crying, I remembered there were still messages that I didn’t check, I turned the laptop back on and continued to other messages.

The next thing I saw almost gave me a heart attack, I started choking, like I was going to pass out. I tried to get up from the bed, but I couldn’t. My knees were so weak and my head was spinning. I saw that he was the one that got U.K. visas for my sister and her daughter, booked their flights. He’s the father of her baby, they started having an affair shortly after we met, I saw mails that dated back to before my wedding. I picked up my phone to snap the messages, I couldn’t focus. Oh God, who would have thought that my own sister that ‘hated’ my husband, telling me she doesn’t like igbo people at all, has been having an affair with him for so many years, under my nose and I had no clue.

I remember the day she told me that the father of her child deceived her, that she didn’t know he was a married man with kids. She’s been living so fine, always sharing good news with me, how the man bought her a car to be doing school runs and also bought a plot of land for her daughter. I never knew that all her comfortable and sometimes, extravagant lifestyle was courtesy of my husband.

I laid on the bed and started blaming myself, how gullible and foōlish I had been all these years. I loved this man o, I loved him with every fibre of my being, I loved him with my soul. He was my king, I believed and trusted him, hook line and sinker. My sister and her child are in the U.K, closer to my husband, while my kids and I, are living in Nigeria, and sees my husband whenever he wants us to see him. I have been married to a stranger all these years. Another wow!

I started thinking of who to call and talk to about my discoveries, I was going kolo, I needed to talk to someone, desperately. I was about dialing my mother’s number, but I changed my mind. She will start screaming and escalate the whole issue before I had the time to handle it.

As I was still going through my contacts, contemplating speaking to my best friend, something snapped in my head, ‘What is this sef? I am a full bred yoruba babe, we are strong and solid, no igbo man can mess me up this way, never. Bunmi, get up, clean your eyes and pamper your face with makeup, this man should be the one suffering, not you’. I thought to myself. I went into the bathroom, washed my face and put on some light make up, then watched a movie on Netflix. It was so difficult for me to concentrate, I was looking at the screen but wasn’t fully seeing the movie, my mind was running fast in thoughts.

Few hours later, my husband got back with the kids and his ‘cousin’. I greeted them with the warmest of smiles, gave him a tight hug and a peck, he felt so alright. I watched my kids as they narrated the fun they had with their father, just like the Netflix, I wasn’t seeing them, my mind was far gone. They had to tap me at intervals, to bring my mind back into the room. My husband noticed this and asked me if I was fine, I smiled broadly with an affirmative.

I had decided not to confront him or my sister. Since they did everything behind me, I had to also figure out how to move on, without letting him know. The rest of the trip was uneventful, I acted so cool and calm, it took the strongest will to remain calm, irrespective of the turmoil that was going on in my heart. My heart was running marathon, especially whenever I see him or speak to him. We were doing knakis like nothing happened. Before he went back, I gave him like never before, it was farewell, but he had no idea.

When he went back, I went on a selling spree. I contacted everyone I knew that knows people in real estate, and car dealers. His Range Rover was the first I sold, then sold my sister’s car that she parked in my compound, before traveling. It was a Mercedes Benz she entrusted in my care, with the papers. I sold all the landed properties he bought for my kids and I, including his own, the documents were with me. While all these were going on, I applied for yankee visa and got it on the first attempt, multiple entry, with an invitation from my best friend, that lives there with her husband, and quit my job. I still didn’t tell any single person what was going on. I didn’t want any advise, whether good or bad, it was my cross, I was carrying it with pride. So many times, I broke down in the car, in my room, in the shower, one time, at the supermarket. It wasn’t easy. He was my first love, my first everything, the heartbreak was so intense.

In all these, we were still communicating normally. He didn’t suspect anything, neither did my sister. 4 months after he left, I had sold everything that needed to be sold, remaining the house. It took a while for me to sell it, I put it on distress sale, with the properties in it. The day the sale was completed, I packed his ‘cousin’ and a few of her belongings and bundled her to his family house in Ajah, during the weekend of my travel. I told his mother that I was taking the kids to go spend the weekend with my parents, that I will be back to pick her on Sunday. Then, I settled my housekeeper and sent her back to her people, I had wanted to take her along, but she wasn’t granted visa. I moved my kids and our luggages to a hotel. We spent only 2 days in the hotel, before we left for Atlanta, U.S.A.

I left my car with my younger brother, packed my husband’s belongings and the rest of his ‘cousin’s’ belongings, and told him to take them to his parents in Ajah, the day after we left. Before taking off, I sent my husband a long voice message on WhatsApp, narrated everything I found out, told him all that I sold and settled myself. I will remain his wife on paper, in Nigeria, but when I get to America, I will keep an open mind and find love again, as I will be living like a single mother with kids. That he is free to file for divorce and find a way to send me the papers to sign if he wants. Also, after 3 years, we will discuss plans for how he will be visiting, to see his kids, if he wants.

The last thing I would do is keep my kids away from their father. From the day we landed until today. He has been begging me. If I hear her say I share a man with my sister again, Olóun maje. As for my sister, I completely cut her off from everywhere.

The End!

abitundewithacupofcoffee