Fictional Story: I Stab Her To Death

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I was never good at showing rage. Maybe that's what made her marry me in the first place. All through the three years of our marriage, I was just that cool-headed husband. The imaginative twenty-first century man; quite, easy going, tolerating, forgiving and just name any good quality a husband should have.

Our love was tilted. Baren of equilibrium. She had all the freedom. A thing most of my peers never gave their wives. She alone knew how much she was earning and spending, she could spend months away from home and won't even bother to give any explanation, she never shared any secrets with me, she never for once took my side of the argument, she wouldn't even stand up for me, never! Love is never fair. It's all I kept doing...

I just kept loving. Hoping for a change. Praying to have a feel again of the innocent looking church girl I married.

A lot of things filled my head as I sat on my balcony. Doing nothing. Starring into the nothingness. Not able to think. Not daydreaming. Just nothing. This was certainly the apex of it.

On my laps was an envelope. In it was a card. An invitation. A wedding invitation. With her name of it. Above the name of someone she once told me was her ex. A friend had given it to me. It was circulating around town.

"Won't you say anything about this?" I asked. She was there too. On the balcony. Filing her nails and humming. She said nothing.

"Mira, you should say something" I said again. All I got was a hiss.

"What should I say?" She said. She was sounding like someone that was deeply irritated. Irritated by my presence.

"Have you seen this?" I asked again for the umpteenth time since the evening before. I tossed the card to her laps. She opened it. Scanned her eyes through it. Hissed and hissed again. Got up and leaned on the railing.

"Did you suddenly loose your ability to read and understand written English? This card says..."

"Mira forget what the card says. I understand English. I want to know why you're doing this" I was holding my breath.

"Then that's it! You understand English so what explanation do you want again? I'm getting married to Ukeme. That's all" For a moment, I felt my head spinning. It felt like I was floating. I couldn't muster enough courage to even breath out loud.

"Why are you doing this?" My eyes were bloodshot. Tears welling up so I looked away. She must not see me cry. No!

"It was all part of the plan. I just needed money. A lot of money and this was just a necessary evil" she said. Unapologetic.

"I earned everything I own. I didn't steal nothing. I'm hurting. How can you get married with my wedding band on your finger. How?"

"Listen! You were supposed to get a letter from my lawyer tomorrow." She dipped her hand into her hand bag and fetched a wrap of weed, lit it up and puffed a smoke.

"Mira, if this is true..."

"You will do nothing! You can't do a single thing John. You won't get that courage from anywhere. I knew you. That's why I picked you from your peers. In that circle of five rich young men, you were the weakling" she said proudly. I felt like the remains of a lamb devoured like a lion.

"This will be the last. I promise. Miracle, it's going to be the last." I don't know if she heard me. I couldn't even say it loud. When she left the balcony for the club, I cried.

Marriage was till death do us part. That night, she fell asleep and drunk on the couch. I had a kitchen knife. The next morning... The news wrote MAN STABS WIFE TO DEATH OVER DIVORCE.