The days blurred into weeks, each one a copy of the last. The once vibrant home Rehema had dreamed of building with Ali now felt like a hollow shell. Their exchanges were curt, their gazes rarely meeting. It was as if they were strangers living under the same roof.
One evening, as Rehema prepared dinner in the kitchen, she heard the front door slam. Ali was home—earlier than usual. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever mood he might be in. Moments later, he entered the kitchen, his face clouded with annoyance.
"What's that smell?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.
"Dinner," Rehema replied, her voice carefully neutral.
He frowned. "Why does it always smell like this? You could at least try to make something decent."
Rehema felt her chest tighten. "I made what we could afford, Ali. If you don't like it, maybe you should bring home more money."
Ali's eyes narrowed. "Don't start with me, Rehema. I work hard enough as it is."
"And I don't?" she shot back, her voice rising. "I'm here all day, taking care of the house, the baby—"
"And yet the house is still a mess," he interrupted, his tone cutting. "You can't even manage that."
Rehema's hands trembled as she clutched the edge of the counter. "If you think it's so easy, why don't you try it?"
Ali scoffed. "Maybe I should find someone who can."
The words hung in the air like a slap, leaving Rehema stunned. She turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears. "How can you say that to me?"
Ali shrugged, his indifference a dagger to her heart. "Maybe if you stopped acting like a victim all the time, we wouldn't have these problems."
Rehema felt the walls closing in on her, the weight of his words crushing her spirit. She wanted to scream, to cry, to make him understand the pain he was causing—but she knew it would be pointless.
"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ali glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Then don't."
With that, he turned and left the room, leaving her standing there, her world crumbling around her.
---
Later that night, as Rehema lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her thoughts raced. She replayed their argument over and over, the hurtful words echoing in her mind. She couldn't understand how they had come to this point, how the man she had once loved so deeply could now treat her with such disdain.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her from her thoughts. She reached for it, her heart sinking when she saw the message from her sister-in-law.
"Mama said Ali's been seeing someone else. She thinks he might bring her home soon."
Rehema's hand shook as she read the words, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She had suspected it for weeks, but seeing it in black and white made it all too real.
She sat up, clutching her chest as the pain threatened to consume her. Tears streamed down her face, and she let out a guttural sob, the sound raw and filled with anguish. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her heartbreak.
---
The next morning, Rehema confronted Ali as he prepared to leave for work.
"Are you seeing someone else?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Ali paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Who told you that?"
"It doesn't matter," she said, stepping closer. "I need to hear it from you."
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Rehema, I don't owe you an explanation."
"Yes, you do!" she cried, her voice cracking. "I'm your wife, Ali. I deserve to know the truth."
He turned to face her, his expression cold. "Fine. Yes, I've been seeing someone. Are you happy now?"
Rehema felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under her. She clutched the doorframe to steady herself, her vision swimming.
"How could you do this to me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ali shrugged. "Maybe because you're not the wife I need anymore."
The words cut deeper than any blade ever could. Rehema staggered back, her chest heaving as she fought to breathe.
"You're a monster," she said, her voice shaking with fury.
"And you're a nag," he shot back, his tone dripping with disdain. "Maybe if you focused more on yourself and less on me, we wouldn't be here."
Ali walked out, slamming the door behind him, leaving Rehema alone with her shattered heart.
---
That evening, Rehema sat on the floor of the nursery, watching her son sleep. She reached out to touch his tiny hand, tears streaming down her face. She had never felt more alone, more broken.
"Is this what love is supposed to feel like?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Because if it is, I don't want it anymore."
---
Life Lesson:
"Sometimes, the people we love the most are the ones who hurt us the deepest. But true strength lies in choosing to love ourselves enough to walk away."