It was nearly time for the graduation ceremony to begin. The sun sat high and unrelenting. The initiates sat upright in a long line sheltered from the scorching sun by a canvas tent.
The master of ceremonies had just grabbed the microphone when a light tap landed on Becky's shoulder.
She turned around and met the earnest face of her thirteen-year-old brother-in-law. He leaned close, his eyes flicked nervously as he lowered his voice.
"I was sent to call you. Tesot says he wants to see you now."
Her curiosity sparked. "Where is he?"
"At your house."
What could be so urgent? she wondered. He should be here already witnessing the transition that he himself had once undergone.
Without thinking further, she rose and slipped away from the gathering.
Within minutes, she arrived. She paused at the threshold, peering inside. Tesot sat rigidly on the couch in the living room. His face, normally so warm, now wore a bleak, closed expression that chilled her heart.
"Honey!" she called softly, forcing cheer into her voice, as if she hadn't noticed the change. "Is it something you couldn't find?"
Tesot didn't look up.
"Where is my son?" he asked, his tone clipped, unfriendly — so unlike the man she had kissed goodbye only a few hours ago.
"Why do you ask? He's with Chepto," she answered, feeling the first tremor of fear.
"Good," he said, voice oddly calm. "You are leaving. And you're not taking him with you."
"I'm what?" Becky's eyes widened, shock flooding through her.
"You're going home," he repeated, his tone like a hammer. "Now. And don't take anything. Not even your clothes. And like I said, Kiplimo stays."
"How would I go anywhere?" she stammered, her voice trembling. "You've only been here a few days. We've barely been together."
For the first time since she entered, Tesot's eyes rose to meet hers — eyes dark with something she couldn't quite name. Anger? Hurt? Disgust?
"I don't need any slut's company," he spat.
Becky recoiled as if slapped.
"What did you just call me?" she gasped. "You're crossing the line with these jokes."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"What? You must be out of your mind," she whispered.
"From this moment, you cease to be my wife."
"Jesus!"
"I hope I've made myself clear."
"What is going on?"
"Our marriage won't work."
"That's not true! We were fine—"
"Nothing is fine," Tesot snapped. "I didn't know you had it in you."
"Had what in me?" she whispered.
"Stop pretending. Everyone knows. Why would you do that? Wasn't I enough for you?"
"You haven't said anything. What are you accusing me of?"
"You cheated on me!" his voice shaked with rage.
"Oh my God — me?" she echoed in disbelief. "Never!"
Fear welled in her chest."Honey, please," she said, voice trembling. "Explain this to me. How does your love vanish overnight? Who told you these things? They manipulated you. You didn't even hear my side—"
Tesot came to his feet and closed the distance between him and his wife. "Don't 'honey' me," he said. "And spare me your declarations of love. Was I still your honey when you welcomed him into our bed?"
"What are you saying?" she whispered.
"You let another man lie on our matrimonial bed," he went on bitterly. "You lifted your dress and spread your thighs for him. Don't make me imagine the disgrace you brought upon me."
Her heart pounded as realization struck with chilling certainty—Pabonya. He had poisoned them all. He had spun his web and drawn the elders into his scheme.
"This is insanity," she said. "Your uncle lied to you. He's playing dirty tricks, and you believed him. You swallowed his poison."
"What poison?" Tesot inquired.
"So you've already forgotten? The nightmare you had last night?"
"Oh no, no. Don't turn this around."
"You were being warned."
"You slept with a man in our room in our matrimonial bed. Now tell me how your love for me was not a pool of lies. How disgusting and embarrassing. Now get out of my sight before I do something I will regret."
"Don't be an idiot."
"Insult me all you want. But I don't want to see your face here again. Just leave me alone before I lose my mind."
She thought of the man who had once sat in her parents' home, asking for her hand. Never had she imagined he would be the one to break their home.
"Didn't we vow to never abandon each other? Didn't we promise to love and honor until death?" she pleaded, tears slipping free. "Don't let Pabonya twist your mind," she retorted, voice shaking. "Don't help him destroy what we built."
"There's proof," he said.
"What proof?"
"People saw you."
"Who?" she demanded. "Name them."
He fell silent.
"This is madness," she whispered. "His lies work because you wanted to believe them."
"Go!" Tesot shouted.
"One day," she said quietly, "you'll see the cost of this choice. But before I leave, tell me: what's his name?"
"What name?"
"The name of my partner in crime."
"That doesn't matter. If you cheated you cheated."
"Without a name all the nonsense they told you are a result of imagination."
"You know his name. Tell me. It will be good to know."
She stared at him. His hands trembled like those of an alcoholic on the morning after a heavy drinking.
"You should have defended me. You should have stood by me. Instead, you let others decide my fate."
"Get out!" Tesot shouted, voice cracking with fury.
She stepped outside, heart pounding, eyes brimming. She paused by the door, casting a last look at the home she had built, the life she had dreamed of.
Tears spilled, warm and unstoppable, tracing paths down her cheeks.
She walked to the shade of the tree in the compound and sat heavily, her chest heaving with silent sobs.
Behind her, Tesot stood in the doorway, rigid as stone, his own face shadowed by doubt and pain — yet he did not come to her.
He just watched her, torn between anger and the love he could not quite kill.