Duru stared at his phone, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves. His palm was slick with sweat despite the cool evening breeze drifting through the curtains. He had gone over the DNA test result again and again. No matter how many times he checked, the answer never changed.
He had even gone back to the hospital himself, his heart thudding like a drum, and asked the doctor to confirm it—praying, almost begging, for a mistake. But the doctor had looked him in the eye and told him gently, the results don't lie.
Now, staring down at his phone, the anger began to consume him again. His jaw tightened, his grip on the phone so tight his knuckles whitened.
"How could she?" he whispered hoarsely.
Amy. His Partner of twelve years. The woman he had once loved so deeply that the very thought of her had made his chest ache. She had been his world. His home. His safe place. And now… now she was the source of the deepest wound he had ever known.
He cursed under his breath.
Yes, their marriage hadn't been perfect. She had grown distant. She ignored his calls more and more often, leaving his messages on "read" without replying. He had chalked it up to stress, or maybe her depression after the miscarriage. But then the voice messages had started coming.
His sisters had sent them—recordings of Amy, laughing and talking with different men. Men who weren't him.
At first, he wanted to confront her immediately. Storm home, slam the phone down in front of her, demand answers. But his family had stopped him.
"Brother," Amara had said firmly, "don't be foolish. If you confront her without solid evidence, she will deny it. She'll twist it around and make you the bad guy. Women like her know how to play the victim."
The words had struck him. He knew Amy was clever. very clever. And if she sued him, if she lied in court—he could lose everything he had worked for. His job. His reputation. Everything.
So he had waited. Waited for the proof. And when the proof finally came, it shattered him.
He unlocked his phone again and scrolled through Amy's Life-stylegram feed. Each picture felt like a stab to the gut. She posed in lingerie, pouting at the camera, writing captions so suggestive he could barely stand to read them.
"This is my wife?" he muttered, his voice breaking. "This… this is the woman I gave my life to?"
Disgust burned through him. With a snarl, he hurled the phone across the room. It hit the wall and clattered to the ground.
"Ah! Brother!"
Amara burst into the room, alarm etched on her face. She hurried to his side, her eyes flicking from his trembling hands to the shattered look in his eyes. She sank down beside him on the bed.
"Brother, what is it?"
Duru turned to her, and this time he couldn't hold it back. A single tear slid down his cheek.
"I don't understand," he whispered. "Why would Amy do this to me? After everything I've done for her?"
Amara sighed heavily and reached for his hand, squeezing it.
"My brother," she said softly, "if we understood the human heart, we wouldn't ask why. People betray, people hurt. At least God exposed her before she could destroy you completely."
But Duru shook his head, his chest tightening. "She was my innocent wife. While I was slaving away offshore, breaking my back for our family, she was…" His voice cracked. "She was whoring herself online. She made me raise children that aren't even mine!"
His voice rose, trembling with fury. "Do you know how many times I blamed myself? How many times I thought, maybe it's my fault? I felt guilty because she gained weight, because I started finding her less attractive. I sent her money every month to ease my guilt, to make sure she never lacked. And all the while—" He choked. "All the while she was making a fool of me."
Amara's eyes softened. She wrapped her arms around him, resting his head on her shoulder.
"At least you know the truth now," she murmured, stroking his hair. "You can set things right. You don't have to live in her lies anymore."
Still, Duru's heart was restless. "I want to ask her. I want to look her in the eyes and hear her say why. What did I ever do to deserve this?"
Amara pulled back, her tone sharp. "And if she tells you? What changes? You'll only wound yourself more. Brother, sometimes closure is just another knife in the heart."
He looked down, defeated. His sister's face softened again. She cupped his cheek.
"You'll be fine. This too shall pass."
He managed a small, broken smile. She spread her arms wide, and he leaned into her embrace, letting her comfort him like a child.
Next Day
The next day, a cold, hard resolve had settled over him. He started gathering all of Amy's and the children's belongings. His mother walked in, a look of confusion on her face. Clothes. Toys. Even their photographs.
"Duru! my child! What are you doing?"
His mother's voice stopped him. She entered the room, alarmed to see the chaos. He stood there, his face twisted with anger, holding a lighter in his hand.
"Mother," he said coldly, "I'm burning everything that belongs to that woman and her children. Looking at them makes my blood boil."
His mother hurried forward, gripping his hands. "My child, don't let hatred blind you. Thank God the truth came out before she could ruin you completely. But this is not the end of your life. You are young. You still have a long future ahead of you. God will give you a better wife, one who will honor you."
Her voice softened. "Don't let hate eat your heart, my son."
She gently took the lighter from his trembling hands and began packing away the clothes herself. Duru stared at his mother, a sudden surge of respect for her filled his heart.
Even after everything Amy had done, his mother still spoke gently, still showed compassion. He remembered another time, long ago, when his mother had adored Amy.
It came back to him in waves—the first day he had introduced Amy to his family. His mother had been so excited she cooked a feast, laying the table with steaming jollof, fried plantain, assorted meat pepper soup, and pasta. She had packed containers for Amy to take home, fussing over her like she was her own daughter.
"Mom, you love her more than me," he had teased.
His mother had laughed, wrapping an arm protectively around Amy. "Maybe I do. She's brighter than you. Sweeter too."
He remembered the way his sisters had rallied around Amy. How they scolded him if he made her cry, how they gave him the silent treatment until he apologized. Amy had been their darling.
He remembered a family gathering where his youngest sister, Joy, had asked, "Mom, if brother and Amy are drowning and you can only save one, whom would you save?"
"What kind of childish question is that?" Amarachi had scolded her.
"I just want to know because the way Mom sticks to Amy, it seems she may very well take priority over us, her own children." They had all laughed because they knew it was true. His family had loved Amy, accepted her, and defended her. That was why he had been so sure she would accept them living with them.
What he hadn't expected was her refusal. "But why? I thought you loved my family?" he had asked her that night, frowning.
"This is not a matter of loving your family, D," she had said, her voice strained. "But they can't live with us."
"But why not? You still haven't given me a proper reason why you disapprove of this so much."
"Are you kidding me right now? We are newlyweds. Like, we just got married. Ever since you introduced me to your family as your girlfriend and then as your fiance, we have never had a single day to ourselves. Your family always came over every day, and now you want them to live with us?"
"Amy don't speak like that. So now they are my family? No longer yours? You know it's because they worry about us that they come over to cook, clean and make sure we are okay."
"I am not an unreasonable person, Duru. This is our honeymoon night. Newlyweds usually have these nights to themselves. We decided to have a quiet honeymoon, not doing anything but spending the first night as a married couple in our newly bought house. Your family can survive without living without us for a few weeks, days, even. Can't we have this night to ourselves, huh?"
"You know how important my family contributed in making time for us to buy this house. Without them doing all the housework and cooking at our rented place, we wouldn't have enough time to make money to buy this house. Now that it's done, they are so excited to join us and stay in the new house with us as a family, which seems much better. I think it's unfair of you not to accept this small request. It's not like they would be living here forever. It's just for a few weeks, and they would go back to the family house."
She had looked at him as though he were a stranger, a deep sadness and anger in her eyes. "You know what? No matter what I say, you are never going to get it, so do whatever you want!" She had gone to bed angry, and their first few days as a married couple had been marred by her silence.
However, the family home had flooded. He had told her his family would have to continue living with them, and instead of sympathy, she was upset. "Duru, you promised me a few weeks. It's been a year now, and you still want them to live with us? What do you actually see me as?"
"Amy, can we not do this today, please? I am too tired, running around trying to get the quotes to renovate and fix up the place. Besides, can't you sympathize? Do you want me to throw my family away when they are going through such difficulties? You know the reason they have to stay longer."
Amy had taken a deep breath. "Duru, do you actually see me as a heartless person and a doormat? What happened to renting other spaces for the family to move in and stay till renovations on the family house are done? Why can't we have that?"
"Mom does not want us to spend money like that wastefully. She doesn't see any sense in them renting an apartment when there are enough rooms here to house everyone. Besides, the renovations look like they will take some time to finish." He had walked over to her, taking her hands. "Didn't we promise to save enough so we can take care of our family when the little ones eventually come? I know it's a lot, but please bear with it. I am looking into getting another job so we can save more."
Amy sighed, "I am picking up extra side jobs. I have actually made up my mind to go back into modelling. The pay is very good as well, and I have already looked into it. We can still pay for a place for them for at least two years upfront and pay for the renovations, at least the most important parts of the building they would need, and still save for us."
"Why are you so against them living with us just for a few more months? We can save a whole lot more that way."
"I am pregnant. Is your family going to keep living with us when we have our children? The place would be crammed up."
"You are pregnant? Like, really, really, am I going to be a father?" His anger had vanished in an instant, replaced by pure, unadulterated joy. He had hugged her, spinning her around, laughing like a child until his family, hearing his shouts, came running in.
"What? What is it?"
"Amy is pregnant!" He had never seen them so happy. They had all hugged her, screaming with delight. He had stopped her from modelling, and his family had insisted she not work, afraid something would go wrong with the child. But a year later, they had lost the baby. The tragedy had plunged her into a deep depression, and his once vibrant wife had become a shell of her former self.
Three years later, he got a high-paying job offshore. It would take him away from her, but they needed the money. He had delayed his start date for a year, wanting to be with her after she got pregnant again and gave birth to the twins. That was when the weight gain started. He hated himself for thinking it, but her sudden shapelessness irritated him. He couldn't stand to look at her body anymore. He had applied to leave earlier than he initially requested, needing an excuse to leave. He still called and sent money, but she grew more and more distant.
His family told him she was fine, that she was just whining. He was convinced she was okay and didn't need him to worry about her. Then came the messages, the social media accounts, the evidence of her cheating. He was hurt and angry, and it was the excuse he needed to stop feeling guilty about not being there. He had felt guilty, knowing he had starved her of affection, but when he found out that the children weren't his and that she was planning to access the joint account, cleaning it out to run off with her lover, he came home immediately and withdrew all the money. The betrayal was too much.
"Joy! Onyinye!" He called to his sisters, who appeared before him, looking at him with a mix of sorrow and concern. "Please take everything that belonged to that woman and her children and burn them"
"Brother, everything?" they asked, shocked. They had never seen him so angry, so hurt. They followed his instructions, and within hours, the house was cleared of every memory of Amy and the twins.
But emptiness brought him no peace. No matter how much he tried, his mind circled back to her. Why had she done it? Was it really betrayal—or had he pushed her there?
One night, as he sat with his family, he couldn't help it and spoke out, "I want to find her. I want to hear her confess, to my face, why she betrayed me."
Amara's eyes hardened. "Brother, forget her. After all she's done, you still think about her? She's filth. Don't humiliate yourself."
"Amara," their mother warned, "enough. No matter what, Amy was his wife. For twelve years, she was family. His pain is real."
But Amara exploded. "Pain? She slept with married men! Who knows who fathered those children? She dragged our name through the mud, made us a laughingstock! She's been silent for six months, and now you want to defend her?"
Her voice rang through the room. Silence followed.
Then Joy, ever the peacemaker, slipped her hand into Duru's. "Brother, please. Forget her. Don't give her the power to hurt you more. You'll get sick if you keep this up."
Amara then calmed down and forced a smile. "How about I take you out tomorrow? A date. Just you and me. We'll eat good food, laugh a little. Change the scenery."
Their mother scoffed. "A date? Can't you cook if you want to cheer him up?"
Amara blinked. "Sometimes people need a change, Mom, don't be old-fashioned. A new place, new food. It helps the soul."
Their mother looked her straight in the eye. "If you're going, add me and your sisters, too, or don't we deserve good food?"
Amara gave an awkward laugh and pulled back, embarrassed. Their mother's gaze lingered on her, sharp and knowing.
That evening, they all went out together, trying to drown the heaviness in laughter. Duru smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
And as Amara sat across from him, picking at her food, her thoughts burned.
That woman. That orphan pig. She dared to sneer at me, to talk down to me because of the money my brother worked for. She dared to think she was better than us. Wherever she is now, I hope she rots there. She must never show her face again.
Her smile stayed fixed, sweet and gentle. But inside, the hatred pulsed, dark and sharp.
And Duru, sipping his drink, felt the weight of a question he couldn't shake: Amy… why?