14/09/2025
I chuckled it off smartly and faced him with a frown.
“Are you accusing me of being unfaithful to you?” I asked with a shaky, pretended voice.
“No... it’s not what I mean, okay? The Holy Spirit has been trying to communicate something to me, but I don’t know what it is. Besides, I didn’t say you were cheating on me.”
I nearly ruined everything for myself. Of course he didn’t ask if I was cheating on him.
I faked a tear. He swallowed the words in his mouth.
“Why are you crying? But I didn’t say you were cheating on me…” he began.
I sobbed harder, tears sliding down my face.
“But that’s what it implies.”
“Alright. I’m sorry. Come here. Just know that I love you. Stop crying... I promise your family I won’t make you cry, and this shouldn’t be the reason you cry.” He drew me close to his side.
That gesture was meant to distract him from asking more questions. Femi loved me, but I wasn’t sure I loved him back the way he loved me. I prayed one day I would be forgiven for my sins.
But they say nothing can be hidden for too long under the sun.
Our children grew older. Sometimes I stood over my husband while he slept, wondering if I should tell him and free myself of the burden eating me up. But then I pictured him walking out on me, disowning the children. The thought alone convinced me that telling the truth would destroy our perfect image. Our marriage wasn’t rosy, but it wasn’t bad either.
So I kept quiet.
I would advise anyone to stay away from exes or “friends” who have nothing to offer but ruin. The worst are the “besties with benefits” they are the worst. It has ruined my life.
Jidenna and I still kept up the pretense that we were just best friends and would be seen that way. My head kept playing tricks on me, but my heart never stopped reminding me that I was a Christian.
Should I say my relationship with Jidenna brought some spark back to my marriage? I smiled more often at Femi after hearing from or interacting with him.
The arrival of my last child was no coincidence. It was still Jidenna’s. What baffles me most is how I carried another man’s child and not my husband’s.
I made love to Femi once every two weeks. He was always busy at the altar, attending different meeting houses when he felt he needed to be pure. God kept using him.
What I feared eventually happened. Pastor Tobi was among the people who warned Femi not to marry me. Femi told me that as a couple we avoided all those people who were against our relationship, and I persuaded him to do the same. He said the work of God needed people around him.
He told my husband that God was going to uncover a hidden agenda orchestrated by the enemy before it was too late.
Hardly had we returned home when Femi’s dream seemed to play out. A call came: Ruth, our second daughter, had had an accident and was rushed to the hospital.
How was that possible? Adeboye was barely four years old and we paid for the school bus fee. How come only he was injured? I asked over the phone, but the caller hung up before I could ask more questions.
Femi and I rushed to the hospital. Adeboye was in a critical condition. The doctor said he had lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. My husband offered his, but my attention was on our daughter.
Femi walked out of the hospital with a blank expression. He stared at me, then at Ruth, then left. I couldn’t make sense of it.
The doctor returned.
“Ma, we need your blood sample so you can donate to your daughter. Your husband’s blood doesn’t match hers. I’m afraid he has no genetic relation to her.”
Fear gripped me. We were close to the truth. How was all this happening now?
Darlene library
