I met my husband when I was dusty and crusty. All I had between me and poverty was a small bedsitter and a lonely mattress on the floor. I was fresh out of campus and the little money I managed to save from my student loans quickly dwindled. However, that fateful day my soon to be husband walked in the office and, as cheesy as it sounds, I knew we were meant to be soulmates.
We courted each other for several months. He was a prominent politician and businessman so money wasn’t an issue to him. I was so impressed by his affluence. He’d come to pick me up at work in a big V8 car. Other times, he’d send over a bouquet of flowers and chocolates which I’d share with my workmates. All that attention and affection I received from him made me fall deeply in love with him.
“Is this where you live?” he asked the first time I let him drive me back home.
I nodded slightly embarrassed. By that time, I was earning a decent amount to find one bedroom house. But I had grown attached to my bedsitter.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gotten you a bigger apartment.” he continued.
“I like the place. It’s close enough to work and I can find anything I want within walking distance.” I explained.
“No, honey. That shouldn’t worry you. This isn’t the way a politician’s future wife should live.”
After seeing my living conditions, he asked me to move in with him and who was I to refuse? From living in a bedsitter to living in a three bedroom apartment in the leafy suburbs. It was amazing and everything was going well. I had a driver who would take me to and from work every day. He gave me his credit card so I could shop all I want and most importantly, he still loved me the same.
“What are you thinking about, sweetie?” I asked noticing he was deep in thought.
“My future wife shouldn’t be working an 8 to 5 job anymore. Should I open that business for you?” He asked holding me closely.
I couldn’t believe how my life was falling into place. I had shared with him my life-long dream to own a boutique and put my Business Administration degree to good use. However, my finances were in shambles and I couldn’t get a loan from any bank with my pending student loan.
“Really?” I asked thinking he was joking.
However, two months later, I had set up my boutique in Westlands and my business was in operation. I still kept my office job because things were also looking up on that side. My boss gave me a promotion and I was now the head of my department. At the boutique, I hired someone who would help with the sales and I would pop in every evening to see how things were going. It seemed like the perfect arrangement. I got to keep my job and be a business owner at the same time. Could things get any more perfect?
It turned out that they could. During a vacation I took with Hubert, he planned a romantic evening where he proposed to me. I was now going to be someone’s wife. It all felt like a dream but I was so in love with my husband that I didn’t think twice about it and immediately agreed. Our wedding took place at a private location with only a handful of guests present. It was a magical night, nonetheless.
We started our life as husband and wife with more good news. My business had picked up and I was now getting high-end clients who wanted designer clothes. I was very ambitious and didn’t think about taking on too much. So, I agreed to bring them whatever they needed. However, this meant that I had to travel to France and Italy to get them.
After consulting with my husband, he reluctantly agreed that I take a one-week trip. I could tell that he felt a bit insecure about the whole thing.
“You know European men are very aggressive. I would have wanted to go with you.”
“Babe, I’ll be fine. I’ll just shop and go back to my hotel room.” I assured him.
“Can’t you reschedule so that I can move my calendar?”
“The clients have been waiting for over a month. I have to go soon.”
The travel day came and my husband escorted me to the airport together with one of my close friends. We bid each other goodbye and I went to the boarding section. Soon, I was on a flight to Paris and 10 hours later, I was checking in my hotel. My shopping spree was a success and I was able to get everything my clients wanted and a few extra pieces for the boutique.
Back home, my husband had not communicated with me for the past three days. Every time I tried video calling him, it would go unanswered. I thought maybe it was the time difference and I brushed it off. He came to pick me up at the airport but this time around, my best friend wasn’t with him despite me asking her to come since I had some gifts for her.
My husband was evasive any time I would ask how his week had been. I was too tired to think too much into it and I went to sleep once I got home. My best friend called me the next day to check whether I got home safe. We agreed to meet for lunch later in the day and catch up on my trip.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to pick you at the airport. Hubert insisted on coming alone,” she explained.
“It’s okay. He’s been acting strange, though. What’s going on?” I enquired expecting a simple answer. However, I got the shock of my life.
“Hubert might be having an affair with your boutique girl.”
It almost didn’t sound real. I felt like I was in a bad dream and hoped that I’d wake up and find myself in bed. But the more she talked, the more reality dawned on me.
“So, I went to the apartment to get my jacket since I had an event that night. I let myself in knowing you nor Hubert was there. Guess who I found sitting on your couch, her legs on your ottoman, watching TV? That cheap girl you employed at the boutique. I didn’t even want to know what she was doing there but I chased her with a few slaps.” She explained then reached over to me.
I was sobbing uncontrollably wondering how long my husband had been cheating on me and what my life would become. Additionally, I was so ashamed to even show my face at my own boutique. However, my best friend kept it open and helped me with my clients as I dealt with my home problems.
After summoning the courage to confront Hubert, he apologized immensely. According to him, it was a slip up that would never happen again. We stayed in separate bedrooms for a month until I was comfortable to share a bed with him again.
“Just tell if she slept on our bed,” I asked him that night.
“You’re the only one I’d ever sleep next to,” he answered.
I still don’t know if I can trust him again. My bed will never feel the same no matter how much he tries to convince me that she was never there. However, divorce isn’t an option – not for him, at least.
Check out stories in The Singlehood Series