I hit her. Yes, I did. She provoked me, and I could take it no longer.
"You're a weakling!"
My father shouted over the phone, threatening to hit me whenever he got back to town the same way I did my wife of five months. I and Sabina still lived under his roof: I don't have a job at the moment, I was too forward and head-strong to survive on my own as an independent man, that I left my well paying job for a business without prospect just to prove a senseless point to everyone. Guess who pushed me into it?
"How could you beat a pregnant woman?"
My mother asked me with her ever concerned voice. I hated moments like this because they were times I couldn't avoid her ever piercing gaze.
Everyone was against me, obviously my mother-in-law would support her daughter, just the same way my mom would support my sister and rain hell on any foolish man that dared lay hand on her daughter.
My mother-in-law threatened me through the phone as though she was here in person, she painted a graphic and detailed picture of how she'll skim me alive if her daughter should lose her pregnancy. I understood the ploy to make me fear and shake at the thought of her descending all her reserved anger and resentment on me, but I was not moved, even when she called me a monster.
I got married to the love of my life, Sabina was all I ever hoped for in a wife, I still bless The Lord for bringing us together in a series of sweet turns and twists. I never knew I'd get to date her let alone put a ring on her pretty yellow finger. She scored poor on the first impression meter, she came about a bit rude and pompous (That's a story for another day), but I was able to see pass those things into her real qualities.
Her parents say I'm a monster. Did they not see the monster in me the day I came to seek their daughter's hand in marriage? The day her mother's joy was too obvious that a responsible man had finally knocked on their door, and her father was busy organizing the outrageous list for marriage requirements for their Umunna.
I am still the same man that arrived their door seven months ago, if I am a monster now, then, I was a monster then, and they failed in their duties as parents because they married their daughter off, to a monster.
I blame myself, I ignored my spider-senses even though they tingled. Yes they did, but I paid no attention and now I'm wallowing in regrets. I went ahead to marry her because I was blinded by dumb love - Love for a woman who allowed me believe she was a virgin while we dated - strung me along to put a ring on her finger before I could touch her. My friend warned me, he advised I taste the fruit irrespective of what she claimed to be, but I didn't listen, I loved the challenge she put up - Miss Virginity 2016.
We finally did it three weeks to our wedding at her own cajole - Apparently she was too horny to keep on pretending - I discovered first hand how open she was, but I didn't let that deter me, I loved her that much.
"If she loses this pregnancy, I won't find it funny with you." The right middle finger of my mom's hand stared at my nose, I wondered if she thought me Pinocchio.
This wasn't the first noise of pregnancy she was making - She made one two weeks after we first had sex - Apparently, she thought I would dump her after the big discovery, and the pregnancy was a coy to compel me to marry her irrespective of state of emotions at the time.
She claimed to have had a miscarriage one month into our marriage when she realised I was always fixated on her bump-less stomach, because I stupidly thought my child was there (I reject it now).
Mother insisted I drive them to the hospital, but I held my ground constantly repeating "I won't," so that Sabina knows I mean business. To an extent I think she already understood this was the real me, the one tired of her bullshit, the one tired of her constantly thinking me a fool for loving her too much.
"What did she do to deserve this treatment from you?" Mother asked in tears.
"She slept with my friend."
I lashed out in pain, I couldn't continue to bottle my pain, I had to speak up, I also had the right to cry. She shattered my heart, she stole my heart and fed it to me through my shit hole, she made me a laughing stock of my friends, she slept with the same friend who advised me not to marry her without testing her product for authenticity.
She complained I didn't have money, yet she was the one who urged me to resign and invest my life's savings in a business idea her dubious friend brought, and I was defrauded in the process. I still suspect the thief to be one of her many lovers scattered all around town as I got to understand from my Private Investigator that she had many.
"My own wife, a special kind of prostitute."
I confronted her about the allegations before her. I showed her picture evidences speaking against her. I gave her a chance to explain herself - I loved her up to that level - even as she rained insults on me, I endured. She called me a jobless man, I swallowed. A weakling, I nodded. I loved her to that level, up till she called my mother a prostitute,
I hit my dear wife for the first time.
I wonder what my mom would say if I told her that a prostitute called her a prostitute.
I ask you reading this, "Am I a monster?"
I need an answer because my mom hasn't been able to give me one, she's been absorbed in her own tears while I'm absorbed in my own suicidal thoughts.