Or you can order from an eatery for them. Dele blinked in disbelief. You must be joking, he snapped. You are my wife. This is your duty. Alice didn’t raise her voice. Doing nothing, right? She said quietly. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of the baby, that is doing nothing according to you. Cooking is being lazy, so I advise you, be lazy today.
Go into the kitchen and be a lazy cook. Dele was speechless, completely stunned. Alice turned to leave. Wait, he said suddenly, his voice tighter now. How much did you say? Alice turned back slowly, a faint smile playing on her lips. How many plates do you want? Six, he replied, irritation still evident in his tone.
That will be 300,000 naira, she said. Send it to my account and I’ll make it happen. For a moment, Dele hesitated. Then, swallowing his pride, he transferred the money. Alice checked her phone, nodded slightly, and walked into the kitchen. That evening, six of Dele’s colleagues arrived. Alice welcomed them warmly, her smile polite and graceful, as though nothing unusual was happening behind the scenes.
She served the food with care, her movements confident and effortless. The aroma alone filled the house. This is amazing, one of them exclaimed. Your wife is a great cook, another added. The compliments kept coming. Dele forced a smile, nodding along, but inside, something twisted. Alice had always been this good. He had just stopped noticing.
After they left, Alice cleaned up quietly. Her service had been paid for. That was all. And so it began. Breakfast, he paid. Laundry, he paid. Cleaning, he paid. Polishing his shoes, he paid. Opening the door late at night, he paid. Every single day Dele spent money, and slowly, it started to dawn on him. This wasn’t just about money.
It was about value. One evening, Dele sat alone, deep in thought. Maybe it’s time for a second baby, he muttered to himself. This whole thing will end once she gets pregnant again. But even as the thought crossed his mind, something else followed. There were other options. He could talk to her, apologize, acknowledge everything he had done wrong.
Every time he called her lazy. Every time he dismissed her efforts. But his pride, his pride wouldn’t let him. One question lingered in the silence. If you are not kind to your spouse, who will you be kind to? Marriage wasn’t built on duty alone. It required two people, kind, intentional present who see and value each other’s efforts, even when they look different.
Still, Dele chose another route. He decided to win her back his own way. That evening, he bought gifts, flowers, rose petals, decorations. He rushed home earlier than usual and carefully set everything up, arranging the room in what he believed was a romantic gesture. He stepped back admiring his work. She will melt, he thought confidently.
She will come back to me. But Dele didn’t realize something important. The Alice he knew, the one who would have run into his arms, no longer existed. Huh. That same evening, Alice was about leaving work when Busy called. Come over for dinner, she said warmly. You and Kiyama. Alice smiled.
She picked up her baby and went over. They ate together, laughed, talked like family, free, light, and happy. For once, Alice felt whole. Back at home, Dele waited and waited. Hours passed. No call, no message, nothing. He finally picked up his phone and called. Alice, where are you? He asked, trying to sound calm.
I just wanted to be sure Kiyama is fine. She’s fine, Alice replied. It’s the weekend. I’m staying over at Busy’s. Just lock the door, she added casually. The line went dead. Dele stood there surrounded by flowers and silence. The decorations suddenly looked foolish, useless, empty. For the first time, he felt it. That deep, uncomfortable feeling, neglect, rejection, loneliness.
The very thing Alice had been feeling all along, and now it was his turn. Dele stood in the middle of the living room staring at the decorations he had carefully arranged. The flowers were beginning to lose their freshness. The petals no longer looked as vibrant, but he left everything exactly as it was.
She will see it when she comes back, he told himself. This time, he would wait. For the first time in a long while, Dele began going home early. No unnecessary stops, no staying out late, no distractions. The silence in the house had started to speak to him. And now he understood it. The loneliness. One evening, determined to do something different, Dele walked into the kitchen.
I can do this, he muttered. He decided to cook rice. Simple enough, at least that’s what he thought. Minutes passed, then more minutes. Confusion set in. How much water is this supposed to take? He murmured staring at the pot. The rice began to stick, then burn. Smoke slowly filled the kitchen.
Dele coughed panicking as he rushed to turn off the stove. By the time he stepped back, the kitchen was a mess. The smell of burnt rice lingered heavily in the air. Frustrated and exhausted, he grabbed his keys and walked out. At the eatery, Dele sat alone with his plate of food in front of him. People laughed around him.
Waiters moved back and forth. Life continued. But for him, everything felt distant. He picked at his food absentmindedly, his thoughts far away. Memories began to flood his mind. Alice laughing. Alice talking. Alice trying. Alice waiting. And him ignoring, dismissing, calling her lazy.
His grip tightened slightly on the spoon. When did I stop caring? He wondered. But even with that realization, a part of him still clung to his pride. Maybe once we have another baby, things will go back to normal. He held onto that thought, even though deep down he knew it wasn’t that simple. Later that evening, Alice returned home with baby Kiyama.
She opened the door and stepped inside, then stopped. The decorations caught her attention immediately. Flowers, petals, a carefully arranged setting. She stood there frozen, trying to make sense of it. Her eyes slowly scanned the room. A quiet ache rose in her chest. Now, she thought, all of this, now. When she needed him, there were no surprises, no thoughtful gestures, no appreciation, no comfort, only criticism, only the word lazy. Her eyes stung slightly.
She wanted to cry, but she held it in. No, she wasn’t that Alice anymore. She straightened her shoulders, her expression returning to calm. Without a word, she walked past the decorations and into her room. She freshened up, ate her meal quietly, and lay down to rest. Unmoved, untouched, not long after Dele returned home.
The first thing he noticed was her car parked outside. His heart skipped. She has seen it. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room. Nothing had changed. Nothing had been touched. The decorations remained exactly as he left them. His chest tightened slightly. Taking a deep breath, he walked to Alice’s door and knocked.
He adjusted his posture, trying to compose himself. The door opened. Alice stood there, calm, unreadable. “Yes,” she said. “How may I help you?” The words hit differently, formal, distant, unfamiliar. Dele swallowed. “We need to talk,” he said. Alice tilted her head slightly. “About what?” “Let’s sit and discuss,” he replied, his voice softer now.
For the first time in a long time, Dele wasn’t commanding. He was asking. Dele and Alice sat across from each other. The air between them was heavy, filled with everything that had been said and everything that had been left unsaid. Dele cleared his throat. “I bought all these gifts because” he hesitated slightly, then continued, “I think we should have a second baby.
Khiama needs a sibling.” For a moment, there was silence. Then Alice burst into laughter, not the soft kind, not the happy kind. It was sharp, disbelieving. “Oh, wow, really?” she said, shaking her head slowly. “Dele, do you even hear yourself?” Her eyes locked onto his. “Do you know what I went through in the labor room? Do you know the sleepless nights, the pain, the weakness, the way I questioned myself every single day because of how you treated me?” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t stop.
