I remember my already unveiled face glowing to the words “…to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for…” But she lied before God, our family and friends. She could have jusft said “…in physical beauty and emotional abuse as long as dominance prevails over affection…”
When we first met, I saw the angel that she was – the one I agreed to be wedded to – and until this day, I still search for that beautiful soul. But to my greatest surprise, the devil she also was grew more horns as the years went by. As though a fleeing bride, she never returns home and as a wandering stranger she comes into our home seeking to be nurtured.
Standing here below this high ceilings, looking through my empty bedroom window, I simultaneously feel so much anger and have strong feelings of sexual desires. My ego has been bruised, confidence shattered and beliefs erased by a challenge so strong that I alone cannot bear. Hence, an opened can of worms, a revelation that has forced me to dive for cover.
When in bed, the tender strokes on my chest, the warm embrace around my waistline and slight kisses on my vulva meant nothing but a ritual done every fortnight. Moreover, I was no longer interested in that look whenever it showed up between my thighs. It was a face recognised by many privates and a tongue that had tasted many juice. What about the fine wines I was promised to sip around the world? Still have not tasted of it! Instead she grants the things that crumple my bedrock.
When did I plunge head first into the deep without my arms raised over my head?, where in between conversations did I forget to say “Enough is Enough”? and why was I chosen for such an embarrassment of a partner?. An anxious, uncomfortable and troubled woman I thought was my driving force. However, a selfish fighter who allowed me to openly declare “WHO I AM” even while my mind was still processing such a personal revelation. Yet, the one who kept me under her wings when the world was puzzled at my proclamation. For this reason and more, I threw good advises on deaf-ears, shutting up wagging tongues saying “she is the one for me” since I truly thought my angel had fallen. Never did I think it was the same pot of beans regardless of the sexes involved.
For how long will I grace this window with my unhappiness. It has seen my burning tears and felt my drowning soul. My fist hard and strong has punched it’s very core, training my hands as I am yet to pummel her furiously in the stomach.
Being the fortnight, the unhappy wife enters into a light trance once again. She moves slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen area. As the evening darkened to night, she was done preparing her favourite meal. In between her slight headache and half-conscious state, the table next to the window shrouded by gray curtains is properly set with the finest table-wears and well-lighted candles. The stranger who comes in at this hour with an odd eau de toilette was yet to press the doorbell.
Knowing her partner will be there any minute, she runs a hot bath and then submerges her brown skin under the salty water while a loud harmonious symphony plays at the background. The elaborate texture and pattern in which it was delivered kept her neighbour wondering if everything was fine at hers. But when Mr Paul remembered it was the fortnight, he laid disconsolate in bed, wishing for a particular day to come.
To be continued……… Next week Friday. (Episode 2)
The Unhappy Wife
A written series of tense thriller which explores the world of a lesbian who finally discovers the soul which she had birthed from paranoia and, severe mental and physical pain. The empty window which she had confided in had a surprising revelation for her, which would also leave you astonished.