You do absolutely nothing in this house. Just eat, lazy around, and eat another pot of rice. I am a breastfeeding mother. I am eating for two. ; [sighs] ; There there, little one. It’s all right. Laziness, all you know is how to sit around doing nothing. Why do you always think I do nothing all day? Just the very minute I decided to rest, you are complaining.
I have decided to work. A friend of mine helped me get a new job at Co-tek company. So, you have finally decided to be useful for once. “There is nothing I will do in this house to please Dele. Alice cried, her voice breaking under the weight of exhaustion. Tears streamed down her face as she paced slowly across the room.
I am literally giving my best, but it’s still not enough. I hardly get any rest. If I’m not cleaning, I’m cooking, washing his clothes, baby Chioma’s clothes, my own, or doing the dishes. Soon, baby Chioma will wake up again. I need to hurry and finish dinner.” “The Lord is your strength,” Alice Busy said gently over the phone.
Her voice filled with concern and warmth. “I honestly don’t know why some men think it’s easy for a woman to give up her career and become a housewife and a mother. These little humans are not little responsibilities. They are a lot to handle. My sister, please don’t lose yourself completely. Just don’t mind Dele.
One day, I’m sure he will see everything you do.” Alice sniffed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Thank you so much, Busy, my friend. I really needed to talk to someone. I’m so glad you listen every time I call.” “What are friends for?” Busy replied softly. “I’ll talk to you later. Let me leave you to your work now.
Talk later, my friend.” Alice ended the call and let out a long, heavy breath as though she had been holding it in all day. She slowly made her way into the kitchen and began preparing dinner. Her movements mechanical, drained of energy, but driven by duty. 30 minutes later, she was done. She gently bathed baby Chioma, who soon drifted off to sleep in her arms, her tiny chest rising and falling peacefully.
Alice watched her for a moment, her heart softening despite her exhaustion. Then, she quickly took her own bath and sat down to eat, knowing she needed strength for another long night of breastfeeding. Just then, the sound of a car pulling into the compound broke the silence. Dele was home. Moments later, the door opened and he stepped inside, his presence filling the room.
“Welcome, my husband,” said softly, forcing a small smile. “How was work?” But, Dele didn’t respond. His eyes immediately fell on the plate of food in her hands. “Eating again?” he said coldly. Alice paused, her appetite disappearing instantly. She swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully, trying to avoid conflict.
“Did you realize I’m doing exclusive breastfeeding for our baby? Is that an excuse for you to eat everything in this house?” Dele shot back, his tone sharp and unforgiving. Alice’s chest tightened. She felt something inside her crack. “Dele, is it that you don’t have money for food? Because you and I both know that’s not the case.
So, what exactly is the reason you’re doing this?” Her voice trembled. But, this time, she didn’t hold back. “I do everything in this house,” Dele shouted. “Bills, food, water, I pay for everything. And because you do that, I don’t appreciate you?” Alice replied, her voice rising with pain. “Dele, I am doing something, too. I hardly rest.
Some nights, Chioma stays awake, and I have to care for her all alone. I’m tired. I’m trying.” “And does that make you a glutton?” he interrupted harshly. “You eat every day, yet you can’t even add weight. I’ve had a long day at work. Excuse me.” Without another word, Dele turned and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Silence filled the house. Alice stood there for a moment, frozen. Then, slowly, she picked up her plate. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision as they rolled down her cheeks. She walked quietly into the bedroom, her heart heavy, her spirit even heavier, wondering how love had begun to feel this lonely.
It was Friday afternoon, and Dele sat comfortably in his office, leaning back in his chair as he discussed with his friend. “Mark, one thing I’ve noticed,” Dele began, shaking his head with a faint scoff, “is that women enjoy marriage more than men. A man spends and spends, bills, food, everything, while the woman is always at the receiving end.
” Mark raised an eyebrow, listening carefully. “You’re not entirely wrong,” he replied thoughtfully. “But, me, as a bachelor, I’ve already decided I must marry a working-class lady. Someone who can support herself, too.” Dele let out a short laugh, almost dismissive. “A working-class lady, indeed.
Alice was working when I met her,” he said, his tone shifting slightly. “She had a good job. Everything was fine until she got pregnant.” He paused briefly, tapping his fingers against the desk. “In her eighth month, the doctor said she should stay home and rest because she had been overworking,” he continued, his voice now laced with disbelief.
“But, I see other pregnant women every day jumping buses, hawking goods under the sun, pushing through life.” He leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “I don’t know if she’s the first pregnant woman in this world,” he added, his tone carrying a mix of frustration and confusion, “or if she and that doctor just decided to make things easy for her.
” Mark went quiet for a moment, studying his friend’s face. “Dele,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care, “not every pregnancy is the same. You can’t compare your wife to every woman you see outside. Some of those women don’t even have a choice. They have to struggle to survive.” Dele looked away, his jaw tightening slightly.
“And besides,” Mark continued, his voice softer now, “just because someone looks strong on the outside doesn’t mean they aren’t suffering inside. Maybe Alice needed that rest. Maybe she still does.” For a brief moment, silence settled between them. But, Dele only sighed, unconvinced, his mind still clouded with his own frustrations, unaware of the quiet battles waiting for him at home.
Alice had not slept properly in days. Baby Chioma had developed a habit of staying awake most nights, wide-eyed, playful, and full of energy at the very hours her mother’s body begged for rest. Night after night, Alice rocked her gently, whispered lullabies, and paced the room until her legs trembled and her back ached.
Sleep had become a luxury she could no longer afford. That afternoon, however, exhaustion finally caught up with her. She lay down beside her baby just for a moment, her body sinking into the mattress. Chioma, unusually calm, curled up close to her mother’s warmth. For once, silence. Within minutes, both drifted into a deep, helpless sleep.
When Dele returned home later that day, the quietness of the house immediately unsettled him. No sound, no movement, no greeting. He frowned slightly. Dropping his keys, he went into the bedroom, freshened up, and came out scrolling through his phone. As he walked into the dining area, he paused. There was no food on the table.
His expression hardened. Without hesitation, he turned and headed straight to Alice’s room. He pushed the door open. “Alice.” She stirred slowly, her eyes heavy, her body refusing to respond. “Dele,” she murmured weakly, barely lifting her head. “I’m tired. There is food in the pot. Please, can you just dish some for yourself?” For a moment, Dele simply stared at her.
“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice rising with irritation. “Since when did that start?” Alice let out a quiet sigh. Every part of her body protested, but she still pushed herself up from the bed. She didn’t argue. She didn’t explain. She just obeyed. Slowly, she walked to the kitchen, dished the food, and placed it before him.
“You are so lazy,” Dele said, shaking his head. “Just dishing food, you are tired. Don’t let this repeat itself again.” Alice said nothing. Her silence carried more pain than words ever could. She turned and walked back to her room, her steps slow, her heart even slower. Six months later, the house looked the same, but Alice was not.
She sat quietly in the living room, her phone in her hand, scrolling absentmindedly. Her eyes were dull. Her once vibrant spirit buried beneath months of exhaustion and silent tears. Then, a thought crossed her mind, something to remind her that she still existed, that she was more than just tired.
Without wasting time, she reached out to Busy. When they met, Alice explained everything, the stress, the loneliness, the pressure. Busy listened, her face filled with concern. “Send me your credentials,” she said firmly. “I’ll see what I can do.” For the first time in a long while, Alice felt a small spark of hope. Days later, Dele’s voice echoed through the house.
“Where is my black Italian suit?” Alice rushed in immediately, holding it neatly in her hands. “I washed it, my husband,” she said softly, handing it over. Dele collected it without looking at her. No appreciation. No acknowledgement. “I left your lunch box on the dining table,” she added quickly. “Please, take it along. Your shoes are cleaned and polished, too.
” She gave a small, hopeful smile. Maybe this time. But, Dele simply nodded, already focused on dressing up. He ate his breakfast, picked up his lunch box, and headed for the door. “I want a heavy meal tonight,” he said flatly. “Make pounded yam and soup.” And just like that, he left. The door closed behind him.
Alice stood still for a moment, her smile slowly fading into nothing. It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time Della couldn’t go a day without calling her. A time when Alice was full of life, chasing her career, proud of her independence. She had worked tirelessly, even during pregnancy, determined to build both her home and her future.
Until the 8th month, the doctor’s words had been firm, she needed rest. Her body was under too much pressure, so she chose her baby, she chose to stop. But after childbirth, life became even more demanding. Sleepless nights, constant care, physical recovery. It was overwhelming still. She endured for her child, for her home, for her marriage.
But Della never saw it that way. “Are you the first pregnant woman?” he had asked her once. That question never left her. It echoed in her heart again and again. It had been a long, painful 10 months. That afternoon, Alice sat alone, tears streaming down her face. Then something inside her changed, quietly, firmly.
“If I’m doing nothing, then I will go back to doing something.” Baby Khiama was 8 months old now. She could go to daycare. Alice wiped her tears and picked up her phone. She called Bisi. This time, the news was different. “There’s a vacancy at my workplace,” Bisi said. “I’ve already submitted your credentials, and I put in a good word for you.
” Alice’s heart skipped. “Oh Bisi, thank you so much,” she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Two days later, her phone rang again. “Alice,” Bisi’s voice burst through, excited. “They’ve accepted you.” For a second, everything stood still. Then suddenly, Alice jumped to her feet, laughter and tears mixing together. “You are such a good friend,” she said, overwhelmed.
“What would I have done without you?” And in that moment, for the first time in a very long time, Alice felt like herself again. It was a quiet Saturday night. The soft glow of the television filled the living room as Della sat comfortably on the couch. His eyes fixed on the screen, fingers moving rapidly on his game controller. The sound of gunshots and background music echoed through the room, completely absorbing his attention.
Alice stood at the entrance for a moment, watching him. This used to be one of the things she loved, how relaxed he looked when he played. How he would laugh, call her over, ask her to sit beside him. Now, it felt like she didn’t exist in the same space anymore. She took a slow breath and walked closer. “Della,” she called softly.
“Hmm?” he responded absentmindedly, not looking away from the screen. “I want to tell you something.” “What is it?” he muttered, still playing. Alice hesitated for a second, then spoke. “I got a job.” That got a reaction, just not the one she expected. “Hmm,” Della said with a dry chuckle.
