"I'm sorry…"
He begged again, but I continued to frown, refusing to look at him.
Bolaji: "Trust me, when you obey me, we won't have issues. You're the one that got me m@d."
Sarah: "And does that give you the right to b&at me? Am I your baby? If you're not ashamed of yourself, you're be@ting me because of another woman. She disrespected me, and you allowed it! I don't even blame her, because it's all your fault. If you could bring her here just a week after our wedding—after the way she acted towards me before—she still did the same thing, and you just stared. Only God knows what is between you two, and I don't even care anymore. In fact, I want to go back home. I'm tired already. If it's about what you gave my parents, I promise I'll work hard and pay you back. I'm done!"
Bolaji: "Can we just forget this ever happened? Okay—what do you want me to do for you to forgive me?"
Sarah: "You even smoked. I didn't know I married a smoker. I don't even know who I married. In just one week, I've already seen enough."
Bolaji clenched his teeth, trying not to lose patience. But he had a mission to accomplish, so he forced himself to stay calm.
Bolaji: "I had stopped smoking since. I was ashamed of myself, that's why I smoked again."
Sarah: "So you were hiding it before?"
Bolaji: "Let's just say I made a mistake. I'm sorry."
He moved closer to her, softening his tone until she finally relaxed a little. When he was sure she was calm, he tried touching her, but she resisted.
Sarah: "My body is still aching."
He whispered sweet words, convincing her little by little until she gave in. He had his way with her.
When they were done, he got up, stretching.
Bolaji: "Prepare food for dinner," he ordered casually before leaving the room to play games in the game room.
Sarah hissed quietly, forcing herself to the kitchen despite her sore body, and cooked.
Days passed, and they continued living like that. Sarah had learned to wake up by 6 a.m. every day to prepare his food. After that, she would clean the house. She still didn't go anywhere, and neither did her husband. Their marriage wasn't even two weeks old. Bolaji worked from home—he was into tech and was still building his company. His father already had a company, but since Bolaji had just returned from abroad, the company was being managed by someone else.
One afternoon, Bolaji dressed up sharply.
Sarah: "Where are you going?"
Bolaji: "To a friend's house."
Sarah: "Which friend? At least tell me the name. I need to know where you are going."
Bolaji: "Am I a baby? And which of my friends do you even know? Abeg, I'm out, jare."
He picked up his car keys and walked out, leaving her speechless.
He drove straight to the address Sandra had given him. When he arrived, Sandra greeted him warmly, her smile wide. She served him a cold glass of juice, and they chatted like old friends.
Sandra and Bolaji were ex-schoolmates. Though they never dated, they had shared something in the past.
After some casual talk, Sandra led him to her room. They ended up in bed together, and after, Bolaji fell asleep.
Sandra smirked. She picked up his phone quietly, searched for Sarah's number, and copied it into her own phone. Then, with a wicked grin, she snapped a picture of herself lying beside Bolaji and forwarded it straight to Sarah on WhatsApp.
To be continued…