26/06/2025
MY WIFE LOCKS THE ROOM EVERY TIME WE FINISH MAKING LOVE
CHAPTER 2
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Adaeze had already turned her back to me. Her breathing was soft, steady, like someone who had said her own and moved on. But me—I couldn’t sleep.
Her words kept ringing in my head.
“You must never open that door when I’m asleep.”
Why?
Why would a woman say that to her own husband?
I turned on my side and stared at her back. Normally, I’d wrap my arm around her and pull her close. But that night, something held me back. Not fear, exactly. But something close to it.
We’ve only been married two months. And in those two months, everything has been… calm. Too calm.
Adaeze is not the loud or dramatic type. She doesn’t shout, she doesn’t nag, she doesn’t complain. She wakes up early, makes breakfast, goes about her day quietly. No wahala.
And at first, I liked it. Who wouldn’t? After all, peace of mind is better than six packs.
But now… I’m starting to wonder.
She never gets angry. Even when I do things that would annoy any normal woman—she just smiles and says, “It’s okay.”
That’s not normal.
She barely talks about her family. I’ve asked a few times, casually—“When will I meet your mum? What about your siblings?” She’d smile and say, “Very soon.”
Two months now. Nothing.
I’ve introduced her to my people. My mum likes her. My elder sister, Amaka, is still observing, but at least she’s polite. But Adaeze? No effort. No phone call. No, “Let me say hi to your mother.” Nothing.
One day, I even teased her about it.
“Adaeze, are you planning to do invisible wife for my family?”
She laughed. “It’s not like that.”
“So what’s it like?”
She looked at me for a moment, then said, “Some things take time. Let’s just enjoy this phase first.”
I left it. But it stayed on my mind.
One afternoon, I invited my mum to come spend a weekend with us. I didn’t tell Adaeze in advance because I didn’t want her to panic.
The moment my mum arrived at the gate and called me to open it, Adaeze disappeared into the bedroom. I didn’t even know she had entered until ten minutes later.
When she finally came out, her face was calm, but her eyes were red. Like she had been crying or fighting sleep.
My mum didn’t notice anything. She was busy inspecting the house, giving small advice here and there.
But that night, Adaeze didn’t sleep. She stayed up the whole night, sitting on the floor at the edge of the bed. Praying quietly. I heard her murmuring things in Igbo, low and deep, like an old woman.
I didn’t ask her anything.
I just watched.
The next day, after my mum left, I tried to hold her. She shifted away gently and said, “Not today.”
It was the first time she rejected my touch.
I didn’t argue.
Instead, I stood up, went outside, sat on the balcony, and called my sister.
“Amaka,” I said, “tell me the truth. What do you think about Adaeze?”
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “She’s too quiet, Somto. That girl is hiding something. But it’s not my place to say. You’re the one living with her.”
That night, I decided to try something.
I waited until Adaeze had fallen asleep. Her back was turned, like always. I tiptoed to the door… and slowly reached for the key.
My hand was just about to touch it… when I heard her voice.
Cold.
Clear.
Awake.
“If you turn that key, something will turn in your life.”
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