07/05/2026
How I got trapped in an abûsive marriage (Part 2)👇
As I saw my children coming down from the okada, tears filled my eyes. I could not believe what my kids looked like.
I had to fight back the tears as I kept assuring myself that I was here, and that delaying taking my children now could become dangerous later.
I felt it really strong in my spirit.
I told the driver to ignite the car as I stepped down and walked toward the gate. The moment my kids saw me, they screamed and burst into tears.
"Mummy!! Mummy!! Mummy!!"
It was everywhere.
The teacher was not a new staff member. She knew me, but I kept praying that Emeka would not say anything to them.
However, seeing my children dancing and hugging me tightly, she was already smiling. Thank God the okada man had driven off.
Good morning, ma'am, the teacher greeted.
I responded warmly and said, I'm sorry my kids came late to school..."
I was not even done talking when she interrupted gently.
Please, you have to improve in bringing them early. They have been coming late to school consistently for the past one year now. Maybe you should warn your nanny.
I smiled and replied, No problem, I will do just that. I'm sorry. I was already at my workplace when it dawned on me that we all had a doctor's appointment today. So I will be taking them to the hospital. They will resume tomorrow. I do not really know when we will be done."
She looked a bit nervous, but I pressed on.
I don't mind taking excuse from their class teachers so they are aware. It is only for today.
I flashed a small smile as I prayed inwardly that it would be convincing enough. She stared at my kids, then at me, then muttered, "No need for that, since it is only for today."
I thanked her immediately, took my kids quickly, rushed them into the car, and we sped off.
I filed for divorce at the magistrate court and sent Christopher a text immediately I got to Lagos, informing him that I was with the kids and that he should search no more. I already knew he would be wondering if it was truly me who came back from nowhere and took our children.
He was ranting like a mådman on the phone. Note, this was the first time he was calling me after I left his house.
He said he had received the divorce papers and that to hëll with me. He threatened that he would win custody of the children and warned me to get my facts and evidence ready because he would fïght me with his last blaad. I did not care.
I only reminded him that he should not forget that he broke the rule by marrying a second wife while still legally married to me.
He laughed me to scorn and said,
For the past one year, I did not even know I had you as a wife. Maybe you should start telling me which man you ran to his house, because that is what you are good at doing. Akwuna like you.
I was shocked at how boldly he called me an Akwuna. This was the man who took my virginity, yet he called me that.
I smiled and said, We will meet in court then, Akwuna ibe m before hanging up.
I took all those calls inside the bedroom. My kids were eating in the dining area, and I did not want them to hear the conversation I had with their father.
The fight I had was with their father, not with them. I did not want my children to see their father as a wicked person, even though that was who he was.
Even though I was fighting for custody and a divorce, I did not mind peaceful co-parenting, that's if Christopher wanted that.
When I stepped back to the dinning, I watched my children eat like lions released from chains after being starved for days, and I wondered what went wrong.
After the meal, they told me everything they had gone through in the hands of their already pregnant stepmother.
How Nkechi and Gift were now the ones cooking in the house and even washing their stepmother's clothes.
How Ebuka had become the one cleaning the house and washing all the cars in the compound before school.
How they rain cûrses on them blaming me for running away and leaving them because I never loved them.
How their meals had become very small and reduced to just two meals a day.
How they were mercilessly flogged by their father whenever their stepmother cooked up lies about things my chidren did not do.
I cried that night over everything my children had gone through at such tender ages.
I almost wanted to beåt myself up for leaving the house, but it also dawned on me that if I had not left, I would not have been alive today.
I would not have known that I was an asset, that I could think for myself, build wealth, and be able to do anything for myself and my children.
I quickly took my phone and snapped pictures of them that day, from the scãrs on their bodies to how malnourished and shabby they looked.
We slept peacefully that night, and I was forever grateful to God.
In the morning, I woke up to see my son already awake, clutching his little hands to his stomach.
I asked him if he was okay, and with just one look into my eyes, he nodded.
I knew he was lying, so I urged him to remember that I was his mother and that he should not lie to me.
That was when he opened up and told me that he had been having severe pain in his abdomen. Anytime he complained to his dad or stepmother, they would shout at him, accusing him of pretending just to avoid his chores before school. So he had been enduring the pain for a long time.
I apologized to him and assured him that I would take him to the hospital after our morning prayers and breakfast so we could know what was wrong.
He hugged me tightly.
My other children woke up as well, and after our devotion, we ate and headed to the hospital for a checkup. Ebuka was attended to first because he was already complaining of pain.
The moment the doctor scanned his stomach, he exclaimed,
Your boy has appendicitis, and it has almost burst. If you had not brought him to the hospital now, I do not know what would have happened to him. We are wheeling him to the theater immediately for surgery."
My heart started beating so fast as I watched my poor son being wheeled to the theater.
Tears filled my eyes as I wished I could rain curses on Christopher for being so careless and nonchalant with the lives of his own children that he is fighting custody for.
So what if I didn't arrive at Enugu to pick my kids up.
Just what if?
I made the payment immediately and picked up my phone to call Christopher and tell him how mãd and wïcked he was. My instinct told me not to, but I could not hold myself back as I dialed his number immediately.
But wait, if you were in my shoes, will you put the call across?
And what will you tell him?
To be continued...
