The living room of Mr. Adekunle's home was an impressive space, tastefully furnished with plush armchairs, polished wood, and delicate lighting. The setting was that of comfort, wealth, and careful attention to detail—a room meant for admiration and relaxed conversation. Seated with ease were Mr. and Mrs. Igwe, sharing pleasantries with Mr. Adekunle and his wife, the afternoon light filtering in, casting a warm ambiance over them all.
Mr. Igwe leaned back, a smile breaking across his face as he laughed jovially. "We've kept you waiting far too long, my friend. After countless invitations, it was high time we honored one!"
Mr. Adekunle's face brightened, his satisfaction evident. "And I'm all the more grateful you did! I know how demanding your work must be, Ugo, but seeing both of you here speaks volumes."
Across from him, Mrs. Adekunle glanced admiringly at Nkechi, her gaze warm and appreciative. "My dear, you're as radiant as ever. Ugo must be taking excellent care of you."
Nkechi smiled shyly, offering a small nod.
Mr. Igwe turned to her, teasingly. "Does my wife not find her voice today? Our hostess has paid you a compliment, yet you sit in silence!"
Mrs. Adekunle quickly interjected with a laugh. "Ah, Ugo, perhaps she's just feeling a bit shy."
"Shy? Nkechi, shy?" Mr. Igwe chuckled dryly, shaking his head.
Mr. Adekunle tried to shift the mood, joining in with a chuckle. "Let her be, Ugo. So, tell me—how is work going?"
"As well as it can," Mr. Igwe replied. "Balancing it all to ensure Nkechi lives comfortably is no easy task, my brother."
Adekunle nodded in understanding. "Trust me, I know. Starting my own company was no small feat, but now? We're worth forty million naira. Supplying high-end shoes to celebrities, each pair running between two to six million. And living on Victoria Island—ah, that's a challenge all its own! This house alone was twenty-five million, and soon we may be moving to Lekki. The car outside?" He smiled, almost modestly. "Another thirty million—every kobo hard-earned."
Mr. Igwe's smile grew stiff, though he forced it to remain in place. "Indeed, Mike, you've worked tremendously hard."
Mrs. Adekunle, sensing the pride in her husband's tone, leaned forward, her eyes glowing with admiration. "I couldn't be more proud. Now, I think it's time we brought some refreshments for our guests." She rose, gesturing toward the kitchen.
Mr. Adekunle stood as well. "Of course, my love. Let's do it together."
Mr. Igwe smirked, murmuring to himself in mock disbelief. "Come now, Mike, she's your wife! Surely, wifely duties need no assistance."
"Nonsense," Mr. Adekunle replied, laughing lightly. "It's my pleasure. Love binds us, even in the smallest gestures." He reached for his wife's hand. "Shall we?"
The couple exited toward the kitchen, arms linked.
As soon as they left, Mr. Igwe's smile disappeared. He muttered under his breath, a scowl forming. "Typical. The man can't pass a single opportunity to show off his wealth. This is exactly why I avoid him."
Mrs. Igwe touched his arm gently, attempting to soothe him. "Let us not be perturbed, my husband."
Mr. Igwe's face hardened, and he turned to her with a glare. "Keep quiet, you simpleton! You humiliate me at every turn. You barely spoke a word—you made us look like paupers!"
Her head dropped, her voice soft and apologetic. "Forgive me, sir."
"Spare me your apologies," he spat. "And that wife of his, she doesn't even know the man's a notorious cheat. Every business trip he takes, another woman falls into his bed. And I? I remain faithful. But you…" His voice trailed, his eyes narrowing.
Mrs. Igwe looked at him, confused. "What have I done?"
"Silence!" His hand hovered in the air, the threat unmistakable.
The moment was interrupted by the cheerful return of Mr. and Mrs. Adekunle, each carrying trays filled with refreshments, their faces glowing with hospitality.
Mrs. Adekunle was laughing, her eyes on her husband. "Forgive the delay! My husband had other plans." She reached out to touch his cheek with a gentle caress.
Mr. Adekunle grinned, feigning modesty. "Please, let's not make our guests uncomfortable," he said, as he started setting dishes on the dining table.
From across the room, Mr. Igwe let out a quiet, irritated hiss.
Suddenly, a loud, persistent knock echoed through the room. It was forceful, impatient—so unexpected that it startled everyone.
Mrs. Adekunle frowned, moving swiftly toward the door. "Who could be pounding like that? There's no need to break it down!" She opened the door, revealing a visibly pregnant woman standing on the threshold.
The woman's eyes swept the room coldly before fixing on Mrs. Adekunle. "And just who are you," she sneered, "to be lounging in my husband's house?"
Mrs. Adekunle's face froze in shock. She scoffed incredulously, then regained her composure, her voice biting. "Excuse me? Who exactly do you think your husband is?"
A collective gasp filled the room.
Amhed, the house attendant, appeared from behind, panting as though he'd just run across the estate. "Oga, Madam Aisha has arrived!" His gaze darted around the room before realization dawned, and he covered his mouth, horrified by his mistake. "Oh! I had forgotten…"
"Silence!" Mr. Adekunle snapped, his voice filled with tension. "Return to your post."
But Mrs. Adekunle wasn't ready to let Amhed leave. "Wait! Come back. Whom did you address as madam?"
Mr. Adekunle's eyes darkened. "Amhed, go. Now."
The attendant bowed hastily, retreating with his head down.
Mrs. Adekunle's gaze settled accusingly on her husband. "Michael… who is this woman? What is happening here?"
But Mr. Adekunle remained calm. He walked to the door, his tone smooth. "Darling," he said to the woman, "you might have warned me you were coming."
Gasps escaped from Mr. and Mrs. Igwe, horror etched on their faces.
Mrs. Adekunle turned to her husband, incredulous. "Did you just call her darling? Michael, what's going on?!"
The woman, Aisha, calmly settled herself into an armchair, crossing her legs with a regal authority. "Yes, my dear husband," she sneered, "care to explain? And introduce me to this… other woman."
The revelation shattered the room's fragile calm. Mr. Adekunle dropped to his knees before Aisha, his voice pleading. "My love, there's a reason for this. Let me explain."
Mrs. Adekunle looked at him, her face a mask of disbelief. "Michael, what are you doing? Stand up!"
"Be silent!" he barked at her, his attention focused solely on Aisha. "Darling, I'll make it right, I swear."
Aisha's response was a cold, calculated slap, echoing across the room. "Make it right?" she scoffed. "You're absurd."
Mr. Igwe stood abruptly, his face set with indignation. "Pardon me, young woman, but such behavior is intolerable."
Aisha looked at him, unimpressed. "And who are you to address me with such impudence?"
"Mind your tone, young lady," he said, his voice rising.
Mrs. Igwe tugged at his arm. "Let's go, my love. This is clearly their family matter."
Mr. Igwe shook her off, his face reddening with anger. "Do not interrupt me!" He turned back to Aisha. "And you, what right do you have to lay a hand on him?"
Aisha's expression was steely. "And what right do you have to lay a hand on her, especially before me?" She slapped Mr. Igwe across the cheek. "Are you mad?"
Mr. Igwe froze, stunned, hand instinctively moving to his cheek. His expression promised retaliation, but Mr. Adekunle stepped between them, forcing him back.
"Enough, Ugo," he said firmly. "This is not the place for such behavior."
Aisha exhaled, her composure returning. She turned to her husband. "Michael, who is this woman?"
Mrs. Adekunle's voice was choked with sobs. "Michael, will you allow this stranger to insult me? I'm your wife—we've been married over a year."
Aisha's bitter laughter filled the room. "A year? And a half?" She shook her head. "Michael, while I invested in your dreams, you betrayed me time and time again? My father trusted you with his company, and this is how you repay us?"
Mrs. Adekunle, frantic, looked at her husband. "Michael, tell me this isn't true."
He sank to his knees before Aisha, his voice desperate. "Forgive me. I am sorry…"
Aisha's hand struck him once more, a swift, resounding slap that echoed through the room. Her voice was cold, each word slicing through the air with unyielding force. "Be silent! Devil, indeed. We have been married six years, Michael. Six years, and we have two children." She held his gaze, her expression as hardened as stone. "I shielded your indiscretions, protected our family name, because I would not allow you to tarnish it. But I will no longer condone this."
Her words left no room for argument. She took a breath, regaining her composure before continuing. "A divorce will sever our ties, and you will leave with nothing. My family's legacy will remain intact, untouched by your deceit."
With that, she turned and strode out of the room, her head held high, each step carrying an unmistakable dignity. Behind her, Michael stumbled after her, his voice breaking with tearful pleas, each call to her a desperate echo that faded as she disappeared down the hallway.
The remaining guests sat frozen in silence, absorbing the aftermath of the storm that had just passed through the room. The opulence, the polished surroundings, all felt muted, swallowed by the cold reality that lingered in the air.
Abruptly, Mr. Igwe stood, picked up his car key from the side table, and walked out, his wife walking silently behind him.