He came back for me, she said. Crying, begging on his knees, pleading…he came back severally and said he could not do without me.


She told me this with the air of someone subtly convincing another, that they are loved.


I saw through her words, to the days he stayed out late. To nights I lay awake and heard her grunt after the sound of knuckle hitting flesh. I heard him, never her, even as she convinced herself that he must love her if he has stayed all these years, never marrying a second wife. He must have loved her!




And when you died, you didn’t see but I did. How he mourned you like you would have wanted him to and how a month later he had another woman. How he had many other women and how he carried on like you were never a thing. Never that thing you tried convincing me you were to him.


How, were you alive you’d have known; he was a pig of a man who did not deserve you.
A pig who, had you known your worth, you would have left the third time he came back for you, crying, begging, pleading. Saying he could not do without you.



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