THROUGH IT ALL (PART 2)

Isn't marriage for better or worse, till death do us part? Woh, I'd just maintain a little patience with him and watch him go back to the person I fell in love with and got married to. I know he's a good man, I think he's just going through a mid-life crisis. Maybe it’s the thought of taking care of the family all by himself that’s getting him worked up or maybe he's having work related issues. I know my ‘Lolu is not a wife beater, he would change.

Two weeks after the incident had happened - a Saturday to be exact, he came home from wherever he went and headed straight to the Guest Room which I  had now turned to my new haven since the tension in the masters bedroom had become too much to bear. I was very tired from the day’s job of taking care of the kids and was very dizzy from the sleeping pill I took minutes before he walked in but as soon as he started groveling, every form of dizziness seemed to fade away.
Oh, how I've missed my husband, but he won't get me that easy.
While he was still talking and making up excuses for his action, I got up and went into the bathroom - acting uninterested in the conversation. He stopped talking and stood by the door, watching me make a fool of myself as I stood in front of the mirror, staring blank at it. When he realized I didn't have any plans of coming out just yet, he came in and stood behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered sweet nothings to my ear, and on the spot I could feel every form of hate and anger in me, melt away.
That night, I moved back into the Master’s Bedroom upon his insistence and we made love like two teenagers. For the next five months we lived as a happy couple, until December 18th of that year, when for the first time in my life, I questioned my purpose for living - I would never forget the date.
A gift box had come in for him from his office that afternoon, and I was somewhat excited about it because we usually always had a room filled with gifts during the festive season but that year, everything seemed dull. So I took off the gift card that was cello-taped to the box to read its content.
"Wishing you and your family all the joy and happiness the Christmas season brings"
                                                          Akinlolu George
                                                          Atinuke George
                                                          Akinlolu George Jr.
                                                          Adegboyega George
                                                          Oluwafemi George
                                                          Oluwatitilayo George
                                                          Olamipo George
                                                          Ireoluwa George
"With love from Savanna Bank".
The Christmas cards that usually came from his office always had the names of every member of the family included in them, but there was something unusual about that particular card. It had Lolu's, mine, our two kids’, and the names of four other people. I was lost.
I wasn't going to conclude immediately, but something in my subconscious kept telling me the other names were those of Lolu's other children. And the Akinlolu George Jr. that was included in the card was enough to make me conclude the names were his children's.
E ma gba mi ke, Ki ni mo fe so fun awon ara ita? That I married a man and I didn't know he already had children? What would I tell my mother? How would I tell her? - I mumbled, as I started to get paranoid.
Be calm Tinuke, be calm.
I had always suspected Lolu of having extra-marital affairs, and on numerous occasions he had proved me right. Sometimes he would come home oozing of feminine perfumes; other times he would have lipstick stains on his shirt and the most unforgettable one was the text message he accidentally sent to me instead of his mistress which he blatantly denied knowing anything about.
I wasn't confused, I knew what I was seeing but I just couldn't bring myself to terms with it. Sadly, it coincided with the day I planned on telling him that I was three months pregnant with our third child. I was pacing round the sitting room, trying to gain composure and hoping my instincts were wrong. I wanted to call him, but I also wanted to ask him in person; I opted for the latter.
I was able to calm down after a few hours, and instead of dwelling on whatever lies Lolu might have told me and whatever hurt that I was going through; I decided to think about my future as his wife and the future of our children. It was a hopeless cause as I couldn’t come up with any reasonable solution.
The children were on holiday at my mother’s so I didn't have to bother about them witnessing the events that would unfold that night. I decided to make him his best meal - pounded yam and Ogbono soup with assorted meat and I waited up till he got back from work. I had slept off on the couch until the horn of his car woke me up - it was almost midnight. I wasn't deterred; I was determined to get to the bottom of the matter that night.
He staggered into the sitting room drunk; I even had to help him to the couch. I pulled up a stool and sat right in front of him and had to tap him a couple of times till I was able to get him to concentrate on me, then I took out the card and held it to his face. His reaction said it all. He started to cry and then I knew the kids were really his. As much as I wanted to listen to his side of the story, I couldn't bear to look in his eyes. The man I took vows with at the altar has all of a sudden become my nightmare. I simply got up, picked up the card and went into the guest room, locked the door behind me and cried my heart out.

Men are evil.