Women – 21stcenturybelle

The Dice #43

Operation Desert Storm

02:25 – Leave with the rescued.
The message blinked on Segal’s phone. It was from MI Bello—the team they had collaborated with.

“We have 55 minutes to get any rescues out of the area.”

Segal barked the update to his men as they made their way, dropping into the dark night from the helicopter crouching in the shadows, their forms melting into the dark night like leopards stalking prey. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth. The oppressive silence was only broken by the soft rustle of leaves and distant calls of nocturnal birds.

Sambisa was nothing like the media had described—a dense jungle, impenetrable and mysterious. In reality, it was a harsh, raw land littered with makeshift tents cobbled together from cut trees and dry leaves. The widely circulated tale of a mangrove forest, rivers winding like silver serpents, and wild animals prowling in the underbrush was a myth—this was no Colombian Amazon jungle. There were no meandering waters or echoing caves here—just hilly terrain and tall trees, spaced wide enough to reveal a dark, visible sky.

The first raindrops hitting their skin, soft as whispers. Then came the deluge—a torrential downpour that masked the distant thrum of the helicopter blades as it touched down ten miles from the settlement. Rain mixed with the earth, the night was deadly still, yet heavy with expectation and the rush of adrenalin in anticipation of the rescue mission.

The team would walk the rest of the way. The women were close.
Thanks to two embedded informants inside Boko Haram, the rescuers had a flow of intel—risky, erratic, but crucial. The weather had made surveillance harder, but the women had arrived recently, and they couldn’t afford to wait.

Inside one of the ragged tents, the women huddled together, frightened and despondent, with hope ebbing away with each passing moment. The air was sour with sweat, fear, and unwashed bodies. Muddy rainwater crept in, soaking their already threadbare clothes. Some of the women looked barely alive—dehydrated lips cracked open, skin dull and stretched over bones, the light in their eyes long extinguished.

They had overheard enough to know there would be no negotiations. The government had taken a hardline stance, vowing to rescue them, but days had passed, and no one had come.

Dunni stared blankly ahead. Since they had left Lana’s body behind, she hadn’t spoken, eaten, or blinked. The others tried to coax her, their voices cracking with desperation. But she looked through them, eyes wide open, dry, and unblinking.

She was the first to sense the shift—a rustle, a shadow. Then the men emerged like ghosts, signalling silence. Dunni didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge them, as they rounded up the women, gently nudging those barely awake. Some eyes sparked with hope.
Dunni’s remained lifeless.

The extraction took fifteen minutes. Then they vanished into the forest, boots silent on the soggy ground, as if the rescue had never happened.

For Moses, time froze. Rain pummeled him, cold and stinging, but all he saw was Dunni—a ghost of the woman he once knew. She was alive. That was enough for now. He would get her the best care: emotional, physical, and mental. Although he had no claim on her and months had passed with no contact, their friendship-or—or whatever it could have been—was buried beneath silence and time. But none of that mattered now. He was here to ensure she made it home safely.

What he hadn’t prepared for was the void in her eyes as she passed him without even a flicker of recognition.

The team hustled the women into the helicopter with an urgency that left Moses perplexed but made sense a few minutes after when a huge explosion ripped the ground below a few minutes into the sky rocking the helicopter. Moses looked below at the flames and smoke bellowing up.

“What was that?” he shouted at Segal.

“They bombed the place. That’s why we had 55 minutes.”

Moses shuddered. What if they hadn’t made it tonight? Would any of the women still be alive?

Inside the rented chopper, he wrapped Dunni in a blanket, holding her close. His tears mingled with the rain still clinging to his face. She didn’t look at him, but her body eased slightly, her eyes fluttering closed for the first time.

“She lost her friend,” said a woman beside them quietly. “Since then, she hasn’t spoken, eaten, or even slept. Your wife will need you now.”

Moses gave a bittersweet smile at the word wife. If only…

He wished he could rewind time to the beginning, when they first became friends. When he should’ve told her she was his future. The thought of what she had endured crushed his heart.

“How are you?” he asked gently.

“I’ll be fine,” she shrugged. “We saw hell. Minute to minute, we didn’t know if we’d live. I’m leaving this country. Going to my family abroad. I’m done.”

He didn’t blame her.

The government had refused to negotiate. Their “rescue mission” had barely begun many days after the kidnapping, and they hadn’t even located Sambisa.

Segal, ever professional, contacted MI Bello to have ambulances waiting.

As the chopper landed, medical teams from Tade’s hospital were already in position.

Tade was there. He ran to them, eyes locking on Dunni. Moses refused to let her go, her head tucked under his chin, still unresponsive.

“She’s been like this since we picked them up,” Moses said. “She’s in shock.”

Tade’s voice trembled, though he forced calm into it. “Let’s get her to the hospital.”

He stretched his hand toward her. Dunni flinched, retreating deeper into Moses’s arms.

That should’ve made Moses feel something like joy. But all he felt was grief.

She wasn’t here—not really.

“Will she be okay?” Moses asked with uncertainty.

Tade met his eyes, his own filling with sorrow.

“She’ll get help. Therapy, trauma care, and any care required. She’ll come back. She’s strong. Soon we’ll have the no-nonsense fireball back.”

He tried a smile. Moses managed a weak one in return.

He would give anything to see her whole again.
To wipe away every memory of the horror she endured.

To bring Dunni—not this hollow shell—back from the dark.

The Dice#38

Dunni and Lana have been holding their hands during the bus ride. They journeyed all day, stopping at intervals for the women to pee. Some were brave enough and escaped in the bushes, but one lady was not too successful, and for the second time in the same day, they encountered another lady shot in cold blood. “anyone who tries escape again will be killed,” he locked his gun, and they shuddered with fear.
The bus came to a stop, and they were asleep to file out, being stripped of every form of jewellery they had on them and led into the bush. As they walked, most women had to take off their heeled shoes as it was almost impossible to walk in the forest with them.
A cold chill washed over Dunni when the jewellery with the tracking device was taken off her. She hoped the guy taking the jewelries off them stayed with the group, they would be fine. Her hopes were dashed when he returned to the bus, and they watched the bus drive off, killing every hope of being found.
“I need to take my diabetes shot,” she heard Lana talking to one of the guys who looked at her blankly. She pointed to her bag, removing the injection and gesturing to her upper left arm. Another guy was screaming to keep moving, but Lana stood her ground and repeated what she said earlier. He nodded. She rolled her sleeve upwards, hitting her arm and administered the dose. “When is the next one, Dunni asked worriedly.
“Tomorrow, same time. How many do you have with you? 7 days’ worth. I always carry it in my bag. Dunni did know the obvious show of relief on her face. “We’ll be out before you know it.” She encouraged her friend as they resumed walking, rushed by the guy with them to join the others.
Dunni was struggling to remain optimistic. Every iota of hope diminished by every step into the forest.

They had walked for the better part of the day, they were not allowed to rest, Dunni could see the exhaustion on the other womens face giving her a glimpse of what hers looked like. The perfectly made face of some of the women all disappeared beneath a cake of brown powder smeared with sweat, others had trickles of black kohl forming a path below their eyes, nose and disappearing to their chin. Just about that time, Dunni felt she could no longer go on. One of the guys leading them backed the order to stop. They were approaching a settlement, and another town dog hope was rising. This could be their deliverance of escape; instead, everyone did their duties as if they had not noticed the strange entourage arriving, and the women almost dropped due to exhaustion. He gestured with his guns that they should sit, looking around at the bare floor of red sand with no chairs. He backed, “ ku zauna” gesticulating with his gun. The women all sat down while a middle-aged woman from nowhere came up to them with a clay pot of water that she passed to the women, who took sips and passed it to the next, an untold understanding that the water was all they would have and the importance that everyone had some to get their strength back. Dunni looked into the woman’s eyes, wondering whether they could get any help from her. She skirted her eyes above them, looking everywhere but hers. While she was still trying to take in the environment, looking for landmarks to know where they were, another of the men was barking at others to stand up. Dunni wondered what was happening back at home, whether her mum or siblings had heard, she could not entertain the idea that she would not make it back home and choose to keep her hope alive that not matter what they would be found and rescued.

Dunni and Lana held hands tightly during the endless bus ride, their palms slick with sweat but refusing to let go. The bus was packed with fear and silence, interrupted only by the occasional sobs of women who couldn’t mask their despair. The journey stretched through the day, punctuated by hurried stops where the women were ushered out to relieve themselves. Some, driven by desperation and bravery, attempted to slip into the surrounding bushes, hoping for freedom. But freedom came at a cruel price.

The first attempt ended with a gunshot that echoed through the trees. Now, for the second time that day, Dunni saw another woman fall. Her lifeless body crumpled into the dirt as the rest of the women stood frozen in terror.

“Anyone who tries to escape again will be killed,” the man with the gun barked in surprisingly impeccable English, his voice devoid of emotion as he locked the weapon. The metallic click sent a shiver through the group. No one dared to look directly at him, but every head nodded in terrified compliance.

As the bus finally halted again, the women were rudely awakened and ordered to file out. Bleary-eyed and stumbling, they were stripped of their jewellery—rings, necklaces, bracelets—anything that glinted. Dunni felt a cold dread seep into her bones as her bracelet and necklace with the hidden tracking device were taken. Her heart clung to a desperate hope that the man collecting the items would stay with them. But her hope crumbled when he returned to the bus, taking their last tether to the outside world. The bus roared to life and drove off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and despair.

“I need to take my diabetes shot,” Lana’s voice was soft yet firm, addressing one of the armed men. He stared at her blankly, his dark eyes narrowing in confusion. She pointed to her bag and mimed injecting her upper arm. Another man yelled for them to move, but Lana stood her ground. Her unwavering defiance drew a nod of reluctant approval, and she quickly retrieved the syringe, rolling up her sleeve.

Dunni watched as Lana administered the dose, her movements steady despite the palpable tension. “When is the next one?” Dunni whispered, her voice trembling with worry.

“Same time tomorrow,” Lana replied, stuffing the syringe back into her bag. “I have seven days’ worth. I always carry it with me.”

Dunni exhaled, the relief on her face impossible to hide. She squeezed Lana’s hand. “We’ll be out of here before you know it,” she said, her tone resolute even though her heart wavered. Lana nodded, but neither woman fully believed it.

The group was hurried along again, their captors shouting and waving their guns. The forest swallowed them as they trudged forward. For hours, they marched through the unforgiving terrain. The ground was uneven, roots and branches snagging at their feet. Many women abandoned their heeled shoes, walking barefoot despite the sharp stones and thorny underbrush.

Dunni’s legs burned with every step. Exhaustion weighed on her like an anchor, but she forced herself to move. Around her, faces that had been carefully made up now bore streaks of sweat and grime. Tears carved paths through smudged eyeliner, and the forest air clung to them, heavy and oppressive.

Just when she thought she could go no further, a barked order from the front halted their progress. They stumbled to a stop, gasping for breath. Ahead, a small settlement came into view. Hope flickered faintly in Dunni’s chest. Perhaps this was a village where they could be helped or at least noticed.

But as they entered the settlement, her heart sank. The villagers moved about their tasks as though the group didn’t exist. Women hauling water pots and men tending to livestock avoided eye contact, their faces carefully blank.

“Ku zauna!” one of the armed men commanded, gesturing with his gun. The women obeyed, sinking onto the bare, sunbaked earth. The red sand clung to their damp skin.

A middle-aged woman emerged from one of the huts, carrying a clay pot of water. She moved silently, passing the pot from one woman to the next. Each woman took a small sip, the unspoken understanding of scarcity preventing anyone from taking more than their share. When the pot reached Dunni, she hesitated, meeting the woman’s eyes. There was something there—sympathy, perhaps—but the woman quickly looked away, her expression hardening.

Dunni’s mind raced as she scanned the settlement. Were there any landmarks or signs showing where they might be? Her thoughts drifted to home—her mother and her siblings. Had they noticed her absence? Had they sounded the alarm? She couldn’t let herself think otherwise.

“Stand up!” a voice barked, dragging her back to the present. The group rose shakily, their bodies protesting every movement. As they were herded further into the forest, Dunni clung to one thought: they would be found. They had to be.

The Dice #36

Dunni feels a profound connection with Lana at the leadership conference until chaos erupts from an explosion. They face terrifying uncertainty as masked men take them away, leading to fear and despair.

It was Day 2 of the 21st Century Belle Leadership Conference, and though Dunni had given her presentation on Day 1, she was already counting down the days until she could return home.

The sessions were engaging, and every speaker brought something fresh, real, and relatable, weaving in stories from their own lives that hit home for Dunni. Yet, despite enjoying every moment, she missed the familiar rhythms of Lagos—the sounds, the streets, the comfort of her own space. The conference was thoughtful, with breaks that let her stretch her legs and chat with others, a welcome change from the typical back-to-back presentations that drained you more than they inspired. This one felt human.

She had found an unexpected friend in Lana, a strikingly beautiful woman from Lagos who, like her, had left a young child behind to attend. Lana was magnetic, the kind of woman whose beauty stopped people in their tracks—effortless, commanding attention wherever she went. But it wasn’t her looks that bonded them; it was the immediate sense of kinship, the ease of their connection like they had known each other for years.

As Dunni entered the conference hall, she spotted Lana waving her over, a seat saved with a warm smile. It brought back memories of school days when saving a seat for a friend felt like an unspoken promise of loyalty. She waved back, feeling the comforting embrace of sisterhood. They were in their early thirties now, their lives busy and complicated, but here, in this moment, the connection felt as pure as those simpler days.

Just as Dunni settled into her seat beside Lana, an ear-splitting blast ripped through the hall, shattering the tranquil hum of conversation. The noise was deafening, a sudden explosion of sound that rattled the walls and sent glass raining down like jagged shards of terror. Screams tore through the air, blending with the harsh shatter of windows as the hall erupted into chaos. Dunni’s breath caught in her throat, her heart seizing as a thick cloud of dust surged from the east entrance, swallowing the space where Lana had stood just minutes before.

Time seemed to slow as her mind struggled to process the nightmare unfolding before her. The dust was suffocating, its gritty taste filling her lungs. The cries of the wounded echoed, mingling with desperate shouts for help. She locked eyes with Lana, their shared terror flashing like lightning. They reached for each other, but their hands never met in the madness.

Then, through the choking fog, a group of men stormed in. They moved with a chilling precision, their bodies clad in military camouflage, faces hidden behind masks. The glint of guns in their hands made Dunni’s blood run cold. The panic was overwhelming, a thick, palpable fear that hung like smoke. The men’s voices, calm yet commanding, cut through the cacophony. They ordered the women to stand and leave the hall. They claimed it was for their safety that they were being taken to a safer part of the city.

But Dunni’s gut twisted with doubt. Their tone was too calm, too rehearsed, like a predator lulling its prey. Covered in dust and trembling, she followed Lana as they were herded into a shiny, new 50-seater bus. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of dust and sweat. The rest of the women—those still able to walk—stumbled behind them, the fear etched deep into their faces.

Dunni’s heart raced as the bus doors slammed shut behind them, the sound final, like a trap closing. The distant screams from the hall echoed in her mind, growing faint as the bus pulled away. Her mind spun with a thousand questions. Was this a rescue, or were they walking straight into something far worse? She could feel Lana’s hand brushing against hers, a silent plea for reassurance, but Dunni had none to give. They were now locked in a fate neither could control, hurtling toward the unknown.

As soon as the bus rumbled to life, a tense silence fell over the passengers, broken only by the soft hum of the engine. Then, piercing through the stillness, one of the masked men barked an order, his voice sharp as a whip. “Submit your phones!” The demand echoed through the bus, leaving confusion and fear etched on the faces of the women. A murmur of disbelief rippled among them, their wide eyes darting in uncertainty.

One woman hesitated, her hand trembling over her phone. The man’s impatience snapped—without warning, a gunshot rang out, deafening and brutal, slicing through the air like a violent scream. The metallic scent of gunpowder mixed with the acrid stench of sweat and fear. The woman slumped forward, and suddenly, the cold reality crashed down on Dunni with the weight of a thousand stones. This wasn’t a rescue team. They were being kidnapped.

Seated at the very back, Dunni’s pulse pounded in her ears, her heartbeat deafening in the thickening tension. Her hands moved quickly, almost on instinct. Before she could second-guess herself, she sent the emergency code to Ola and Moses, her fingers flying across the screen. The code they had devised for life-or-death situations was simple, but she had never imagined she would need to use it. Yet, despite the terror freezing her bones, she was surprised at how clearly it came to her. A number to press on repeat.

Her fingers shook as she reached for her necklace, feeling its familiar coolness against her skin. It was still there. Relief washed over her, but only for a moment. Her bracelet—she felt for it next. Intact. She turned to Lana, sitting on her left, her eyes wide with fear. Without a word, Dunni slipped the bracelet from her wrist and fastened it onto Lana’s right wrist. Lana stared at her, puzzled, but Dunni’s voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in close.

“For whatever it is worth, don’t take it off until you are safely home.”

Before Lana could respond, the masked man loomed over them. His presence was suffocating, his gaze cold. Without hesitation, he ripped the phones from their hands, his rough touch burning like fire against Dunni’s skin.

As he moved on, Lana’s tears began to fall, slow at first, then unstoppable. Her chest tightened, her breath shaky as her mind spiralled.

“My son…” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper beneath the suffocating weight of despair that hung in the air. “He didn’t want me to come.”

Dunni reached out, gently clasping her trembling hands. No words were needed between them. Yesterday, their world had been filled with light—talking, laughing, full of life and possibilities. But now, the silence between them was heavy, thick with fear.

“You will see your son again and hold him in your arms,” she reassured her new friends, even though their grim reality suggested otherwise

The Dice#21

Clad in a simple leaf-patterned navy blue and white kaftan made with the traditional adire fabric. Molade appeared to be watching the cars that sped by as they drove along the Ibadan – Lagos expressway. She was lost in thoughts to another time when she made a similar trip. The road was not this terrible. Those were the days when it took you just a little over an hour to get to Ibadan from Lagos. Like this journey, she was driven by the same driver, Jamiu, who has been her personal driver from her teenage years to her adult life. Her brows creased in deep thoughts as they made their way to the ancient city. She could count the number of times she had a reason to come this way despite its proximity to Lagos.
Molade was jolted from her reverie as the car turned off the main road onto a muddy road meandering around deep potholes that laced the road. She jerked forward but for the seat belt that held her from hitting her face against the headrest of the front passenger seat.
“Sorry, madam,” Jamiu apologised.
She waved him off, knowing that it was not his fault.
It probably will cost the government little or nothing to get the road adequately fixed. Molade looked around, taking in her surroundings. At the same time, she wondered if her findings today will reveal her fears ever since she saw the document this morning.
The driver slowed the jeep down beside a woman roasting fresh corn for sale to ask for direction. He was about to drive off when Molade passed him a few thousand naira notes to give to the woman. She was beside herself with joy and rushed to wrap a few of the already roasted corn in newspaper to give to them. Jamiu declined and drove off, watching the room in his rearview mirror as she swirled and moved from side to side, dancing with joy. The money would cover her sale for the day and, if not more.
Jamiu brought the car came to a halt in front of what looked like a hospital. Molade gazed at the small-sized building with its white paint turned grey peeling off, a few broken glass windows replaced with wood. She could see the queue of people spilling to the hospital entrance, leaving her wondering what a weekday would be like if the weekend was this busy.
“Do you want me to go in for you?” Jamiu asked.
Molade managed a small smile. Jamiu uncannily knew her so well, but why wouldn’t he|? He’d known her all her life.

The Dice#5

Can you imagine if life’s major decisions could be made from the toss of a dice! I threw the dice today if to publish episode 5 or wait till the weekend and it fell on 5! Haha! I won’t try it next time. But seriously what is your life’s compass? That one thing that guides our decisions both big and small decisions. I would love to hear from you!

Dunni glanced nervously for the umpteenth time at her cousin who lay lifeless at the back seat of Moses brand new 2012 Range Rover.

She was barely breathing. Worry etched all over Dunni’s face as she kept wringing her hands, a sign that she was apprehensive.

Moses took his eyes off the road, momentarily alarmed. It was bad enough they had an almost dying woman in the back of his car, on the other hand, looking at Dunni, she did not seem to be faring well. She looked on the verge of passing out.

He searched for her hands, holding her left hand while he controlled the car with his other hand, wanting to reassure her and make sure she stayed with him. He could not imagine having to deal with two unconscious women before getting to the hospital.

“Your cousin will be fine,” he reassured with more confidence than he felt as the woman behind did not like she would make it through the night. It would be a miracle if she survived the ordeal without being maimed.

“What if we had gotten there five minutes after? She could have died.”

Dunni shivered, pulling her hands from his and wrapped her body like one trying to shield herself from harm.

The drive to the hospital was the longest Dunni had experienced. Lucky theirs was the only car on the road. She stole a look at Moses but could not read his expression. His eyes were focused on the way as he drove along yet sensing her, he momentarily gazed at her the grim look a while ago lost to a weary smile.

She felt guilty for disturbing his sleep and bringing him into her family drama. “I am sorry,” she mouthed a second time that night.

“For what?” Moses asked

“You know…. all this,” she gestured with her hands.

“Dunni, anything for you. You don’t have to apologise. I would have been more upset if you had to go through all of this on your own.”

Her heart did things to her when Moses was so kind and attentive, but she was not going to dwell on it. Moses was that way with everyone. He treated you special. Sadly, over the years, she had watched many ladies fall deeply in love with him, suffering from broken hearts without Moses even trying. She’d been looking for the day he’ll finally introduce a girlfriend or fiancée. She often wondered that if Moses treated random strangers this way, she could only imagine what would happen when the person was his object of affection. She could bet her life on it; he would literally worship the ground the girl walked upon.

Whatever she wanted to say died when Kemi at the back started struggling to breathe. Luckily, Moses arrived at the hospital. And Dunni ran out of the car to alert the nurses barely waiting for him to park.

A stretcher was brought to carry her while an oxygen mask placed over her nose. She had to go in for surgery immediately. The best news that night was the presence of a surgeon whose patient scheduled for surgery declined to be operated at the last minute and was still in the hospital.

Dunni signed all the paperwork scanning through the content briefly and went to join Moses where he sat.

“What next?” Moses asked stifling a yawn. It was 3:55am.

“I was not told how long the surgery will last. I’ll be here. You can go home. I will catch a taxi later in the morning.”

“I think I will wait for you—no need driving again this night.”

Dunni gazed into his eyes in a bid to be sure that this was okay with him. She felt guilty for disrupting his night and wondered if she would have reached out to him this way if he was married. She was not too sure what the wife will feel about it. On the other hand, a glimpse of Ola’s wife was an indication that things may not change. She accepted Dunni’s place in the firm and her husband’s life. They were always in each other’s company at social functions of their clients. She had an excellent relationship with Ola’s wife and hoped it continued when Moses got married.

Placing his arms around her shoulder, he pulled her toward himself, her head resting on his chest. She could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her tired eyes to sleep as they sat on the hard chairs in the waiting room of the hospital.

Meena’s Dairy#24

Hauwa’u…..

It’s been three months and no one has heard from Meena. I can’t understand how someone can disappear in this age and time with no clue.

JK’s private investigator is yet to come out with any meaningful leads. He is still exploring all the airline manifesto on the day she left. I have been beside myself with worry while trying to calm her mother that all is well. JK is a shadow of himself. He is barely functioning, a shadow of his former trying to keep up with his daily routine of going to work and keeping the company running.

The whole saga started with Bimpe overhearing JK’s mom complain of Meena not able to give her a grandson. The plan conceived and executed to get JK in the same hotel as her with her boyfriend as an accomplice.

It was all a lie to siphon money from JK and you could visibly see the weight off his shoulders from relief when she confessed he did not touch her and the baby was not his.

The length people can go for money is alarming but the length people would go for love is disarming. This is where the real story begins.

It’s been no hidden secret that I have never been a fan of JK the perfect boyfriend turned husband and like all other men I tolerated after my husband with his philandering ways had done a number on me. I am not bitter. I mistrust and deal with them from afar. I can’t trust this foolish heart of mine not to fall in love again. I was aloof and dealt with the opposite sex on a professional basis with my guards up. One of the old recipes of love budding is time spent together. The extreme is love at first sight and the modern day is “what you can get” defining love.

As I stepped out of my car, Sa’a was also driving in. So I waited for her in the hot sun blaring down my face, fishing for my Gucci shades in my bag, I wore them and walked over to join Sa’a.

We were here because JK had requested we come over to the house for a meeting with the Private Investigator who had told him of some leads but wanted to ask questions to some theories he postulated. So it was basically another boring and senseless questioning session.

I turned to the direction of the sound of a car coming to the driveway and there was Meena’s mother- in- law getting down from the car even before the car came to a halt. We stepped forward and offered a greeting she snubbed.

“That foolish friend of yours with her erratic ways will not be the downfall of my son. She could not give him a male child and has the guts to make trouble. I warned JK but he would not listen now he has to make his bed and lie on it. I hope he has the common sense to start thinking of getting a new wife to replace her fast.”

We both drew a sharp breath unconsciously shocked at the venom in her words. Meena had given us some of the stories of her encounter with the woman and the no love lost between them but we did not know how bad it was.

She looked at us queerly.

“What are you doing here anyway? Your friend no longer lives here so you should not come here anymore, or is one of you hoping to take her place?” She asked with a smug look I wanted to slap off her face should she have been another woman.

We were saved from answering when JK drove in. He was behind the wheels with the driver in the passenger seat.

He came down, handing the key to the driver who now drove the car out to run some errands.

My wayward heart did a somersault at the sight of him. He had grown his beard, although looking unkempt but handsome in a rugged way. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. My heart reached out to him and I reminded myself this was my friend’s husband. I can’t go there. Yes, I hated JK or so I made myself believe. It was my defense mechanism over the years but more from him choosing my friend over me. I had secretly loved JK for as long as I can remember before Meena came into the picture. Meena joked that whatever I wanted I got, what she did not know was the only thing I ever wanted so badly and I never got was hers yet she had willingly thrown him away.

Meena’s Diary#21

And MIL paid a visit.

I am struggling to get my problems behind. Some days I am upbeat, and some others days I couldn’t get out of my hole of despair. I am tired of feeling hurt and betrayed. I am tired of whining and complaining. I want to get my life back, but I don’t know how.

Today is one of those days that I could help with a ray of hope and some sprinkle of sunshine. I needed to motivate myself to run my day but alas I shouldn’t have been so quick to make my wishes.

Guess who came calling. My adorable every faultfinding Mother -in – law.

“Finally my son has decided to give me a grandson. Our name won’t die.”

I was speechless. There was no love lost between my Mother – in- law and me, but this blatant display of lack of empathy was the height of it all.

My relationship with the mother in law was not always this bad. I remember the first day, JK took me to meet his parents.

Mother – in – law was all over me with delight and affection gushing with how I had brought sunshine to her son’s life. I could not have asked for another, but somewhere along the line, the love flew out of the window. I have asked her severally if I had done anything to offend her and every time she kept saying there was nothing. Those were the days when the communication line was still open.

She rarely comes to the house anymore I gathered from JK himself, she visits him in the office or summons him to her home whenever she wanted to see him.

She was superb with her grandkids. You could not fault her in any way. They were her Achilles heel.

JK took them over to her place every weekend. I have long stopped trying to be the ideal daughter-in-law.

I grimaced with every jab she fired at me with her words as sharp as a double-edged knife.

“A woman who can’t bear a son is no woman,”

“Mama!” I gasped.

“Don’t Mama me. I am not your mother!” she shouted.

“Did you think I would sit down with my hands folded while the lineage of my dear husband dies because you are content with baring two children and stopping in the name of fashion and being modern?”

I held myself from retorting that she should remember she only had a child.

“If you want to stop baring kids then you should have been sensible to have a boy.” She hissed the words with contempt.

I felt intense pain in my heart with every word she uttered. I could feel my slender form wilting like a flower in the hot scorching sun.

“I am going to make sure that the new woman comes into my son’s house. No grandchild of mine will be born outside. You might be making JK’s life miserable, but I came to warn you to allow him to be the man he is. If you can’t bear to stay, then leave.”

What made us women our own worst enemy? Could she have a daughter and play this same role? What was the dynamics of the mother – in – law and daughter – in- law relationship that things always had to be very nasty?

To see a wounded man and rather than help him heal, you pull the dagger into him worsening the wound. That was what my mother –in- law was doing.

I sat there not uttering a word. It was not a case of being speechless, I was too tired to argue, and the fight had gone out of me. Mother- in- law said words not worth repeating I am still struggling to forget.

One good thing that came out of the visit was clarity of what I had to do. I was no longer welcome or needed in JK’s life.

In that single moment, my mother helped me make the decision I had not been bold to make. The plan I had tried to form but could not see myself taking action. I gazed at her with awe, mentally hugging her with gratitude.

I was going to disappear from their lives for good. My girls and I. I was walking away from JK, my home and all the things I held dear.

After she left, I broke down and cried heartbrokenly, deep wrenching sobs racking my slim body. I vowed this was my last set of tears over my emotional turmoil. JK and I were over for good.

Call me stupid. Call me as many names as you can think. Yeah, half my mates have not gone through what I have and have stayed in their homes. You can argue why I should deprive my girls of their father or why I can’t forgive and move on. People can voice their opinion, but they are not me. They do not wear the shoes or feel the pain. Others can tell you what to do and how to handle your challenges, but they can never be me.

Different people could go through the same problem and never take the same approach because we are all wired differently. Some are more emotional rugged and stable than others and can make it through stronger while others might fall apart slowing putting their lives together and maybe lucky to come out even stronger.

I do not have the strength you have and perhaps should you find yourself in my shoes, you might have done worse.

I love JK. It is ingrained in the woman I have become. I know without a doubt that JK loves me but the waters that have passed our bridge has destroyed the strength of the relationship we once shared. What is left are fibers too weak to withstand any further test.

Judge me. It’s my life. It is my decision, and I would live with the consequences, not you.

Meena’s Diary#16

I am a dead woman on two feet going through the motions of life without emotions. I knew the right time to smile, offer a laugh at a joke, and give a hug to the kids. The right words and encouragement to friends and co-workers.

I was living each day with a happy and confident front fooling the world that all is well.

Babes where are you? A message from one of the girls flashed on my phone.

Me: At home. What’s new?

Hauwau: You are late for our hangout.

Me: Gosh! I totally forgot.

Hauwau: We are waiting. You can still make it.

I missed the hangout last week and did not even remember this week. I have been avoiding my friends. I did not know what to tell them when I was still trying to process the whole situation.

It has been two weeks but I still did not know what I wanted to do or go from here.

Me: Nah too tired.

Hauwau: Thought you’ll say that. We are at your gate.

I laughed. It sounded hollow to me. Only my crazy friends would not take no for an answer.

It was less than two minutes that the girls came in and launched their Mission Attack.

“Spill. Something is eating you up. We have given you all the time to talk. Before and after Paris.”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

“We do want to hear it. The good, the bad and the ugly but leave the sex out. We don’t want our ears to cringe. We are innocent girls here.”

“Blah! Say that to the gods. The things you do behind closed doors. Your grandma will be rolling in her grave.

“If she was not worse than us,” retorted Hauwau through her teeth but turned on me with a vengeance.

“Don’t derail spill.”

“You girls care for a drink?” I asked playing the role of a perfect hostess.

“Martini on ice for me,” Sa’a answered speaking for the first time since the girls came in.

“Does Atiku know you indulge in this?”

“Let’s just say it’s my little secret. A little alcohol now and then is good for the body. Kobahakaba?”

I went through the motion of laughing which was the normal reaction.

I also needed that martini and something stronger.

We moved towards the bar to make our drinks.JK never drank but had the bar full of every stocked wine you can imagine. Luckily he had friends who made good use of the drinks.

“What are you doing with that?” My two friends asked eyes round with surprise as I mixed mine.

“Whatever is going on must be bad,” concluded Hauwau.

“In all the years we have known you. You never have as much sipped on alcohol.”

“There is always a first time,” I answered sadly and blurted out before I lost the courage.

“JK has a son with someone else.”

The reaction from my friends could have won an Oscar.

I could not have imagined any scenarios that would shut the mouths of these women.

Meena’s Diary#15

They say heartbreak is the worst pain, but I think it’s fair play compared to betrayal.

wordle-girlstoys

My love, best friend and confident. I could trust JK with my life. I could overlook a casual affair as time goes on, but a constant reminder of his adultery packaged in what I had not been able to give him was a pain akin to no other.

It’s been three days of hell. Funny how the pain from my thought and speculation that there was someone else dulled to what I felt now.
My brain has not been able to process beyond the fact that JK had a child outside with someone else while we were married.

What game was destiny was playing on me? Okay, it had never bothered us the sex of our kids. We had two lovely daughters, and nowJK had a son to carry his name that was not borne by me.

Where did I go wrong? How did I get so careless that my husband was now in the league of those who had children outside wedlock?

I stole a look at him beside me on the plane back to Lagos.
We had not spoken since he dropped his bombshell.
Well, that will not be true. I was the one who has not talked to JK. He had been doing all the talking, but he could have been speaking to the statue of liberty or the statue of the three wise men in Lagos.

He begged, apologised and asked me to meet out any punishment I wanted, and he would gladly observe. He promised me heaven and earth, but I was far gone to care whatever he said.

There was no using crying over spilt milk. JK did commit a sacrilege to our marriage, and its effect will be in our lives forever.

I still did not know my next step. I was exhausted and still in shock.

My life and all I had built with JK had come crumbling down like a pack of cards.

Meena’s Diary#14

wordle-girlstoys

The silence in the room could break a glass. I was screaming on the inside but uttered no word. Weeping yet no tears. It was one thing to speculate and conclude but another to find out all your fears had come true. Worse still, someone had given your spouse what should have come from you, but you have been unable to provide.

“Say something,” JK whispered.
Why was he whispering anyway we were still the hotel room.
I refused to look into his eyes or acknowledge his request.
It was over between us. I knew that as sure as I knew my name, but I had no clue what my next plan was.

I had lost faith in the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life.I had lost faith in marriage, and it’s promise of forever.
I had lost faith in myself that it was possible to hit rock bottom and still go further down.

I sat and stared at nothing. Then I felt JK’s hands like a scotch of fire. I withdrew mine instantly. I could no longer bear any close contact with him.I did not need some days to work this out.I knew it was over for us.

I take a mental stock of what we shared and still can’t understand how we got here.
We sat there saying nothing. JK was speaking, but the hurt would not let me hear the words or make sense of his pleas.
Yes JK was in tears, but I was beyond any emotion.
I had returned to who I was before we met – “The ice queen.”
The girl with a wall built around her heart to shield off possible hurt by friends.

I had my close group who could never match the ice queen to the hot, fun living girl they knew but that was my defence mechanism.

And today that girl had returned. I would never place myself in the position to be hurt again.