Diaries of the Perfect Wife Part 1

Yohanna's story.

I met my husband in my final year at York University, where I was an honors student in Interior Designing. I knew he was the one for me; as soon as our eyes met and our souls merged at the entrance to the Office of Administrations. It was love at first sight, powerful, intense and mind boggling. I just knew I had to have him, no one else would do. He approached me and we exchanged pleasantries and contacts.

Three years later, I was a globally acknowledged interior designer, with more money than kings. My husband, an architect, was wealthier than I was. We were happy and comfortable. He was my Romeo, my Akbar, my bane of existence. My whole life was spinning around a source, and that was my husband, Rowland.

Our marriage was fun. We travelled around the world and spent money without a care. We owned custom made exotic cars, hell, we even had our own line of airplanes and ships. We completed each other, but in one way. He had a secret, one which binded us together, but yet held us so far apart; it was hard to reach out to each other in the dead of the night.

This secret ate deep into my husband each day and each night like worms, taking everything, his happiness, his vigour, his me. I watched my once alpha male husband be reduced to a whining pregnant woman in the throes of childbirth. I couldn't take it anymore, it ate at me too.

"Baby," I break the silence in the bedroom, making eye contact with him through the vanity mirror. My voice is weak, for him.
He grunts inaudibly. I can only pick out some words "Can't...alone...need...rest."

I manage to hold back the tears that threaten to spill and brace up courage for this man, who is depressed. I get up and make towards his side of the king sized bed. He has a look of despair on his face as I skim my fingers through the hairs on his strong hands, he removes my hand gently and places it on the bed, then he turns away and puts off the bed lamp.

I roll to my side and snuggle into the blanket.
A few moments, I can hear sobs, deep gut wrenching sobs from the other side of the bed, and I'm torn to pieces. I have not an iota of strength, each sob, each convulsive gasp takes my strength and I'm left numb to pick of the scrambled pieces. I slip into oblivion, tormented by dreams of my husband and our secret.

I'm woken by the loud alarm clock, I stretch and quickly mumble my morning prayers. Yawning loudly, I reach for my flip flops and stand up. Looking at the bed, I notice my husband is missing, and the bed didn't look like it was laid upon. I'm set into panic mode immediately, with horrible thoughts running through my mind, tears running down my cheeks, "Oh baby, suicide? Has he left me? Suicide? Suicide?".

I search the house in breakneck speed and find nothing. I cry and cry, my tears wouldn't end, my sorrows have no barriers, it flows like the River Nile.

I wake up and it's late afternoon, I'm still laying on the living room's floors. I rush to get my phone only to meet twenty-four missed calls from my husband's phone.

I call back in frenzy, I'm directed to voicemail,   "Hello, this is Rowland, Yohanna's husband, boyfriend, baby, sugarbaby, you name it" I can even hear my laughter in the background of the recordings, opening old wounds and welcoming new batches of tears, as they spill widely around me. I connect with the call and I'm talking to a stranger.

"Hello?"
"Yes, hello," my voice is hoarse and shaken.
"I'm sorry to break this news but your husband was involved in an accident, in the early hours of today."

He's not even done with the information and I'm on my knees. My husband, mine, mine. I cry and cry, curse myself and my parents, my husband.

"Madam, take it easy, he's still alive."

And its like the still waters calmed by Jesus in the Holy Bible. "What? Where? Oh my God."
He gives me the hospital information and I run up the stairs to get my keys. I hit my foot against the stairs, I seethe in pain, but I don't care, the toenail can remain on the floor.

Getting down from the car, I rush to the reception....

I'm requested to fill some damned forms. I just scribble on it and pin a dirty look on the nurse in front of me like she is missing all her teeth. She returns the favour.

"Madam, you're bleeding. Let me help you"
I give her an impatient look and reply,
"No thanks, where's my husband?"

She hisses, murmurs some rude words and flings her hand towards a room down the hall.

I don't have time to reply her, and I run towards the hall endings.

I take a peek into the room to see my husband lying on a bed, wires protruding from every surface and his face in a heavy cast. I push the door that has "PULL" written over it. I'm still fighting with the door until the foul nurse helps me open it. I run to my beloved and I look upon him. The nurse exits the room and I move closer to my man. I take his hands into mine, place it above my heart, this is where he belongs, in my heart, that's home.

He groans, I quickly drop his hands and he holds me tighter. I spin around and look at him, he urges me on.

"Hold me, this is too much for me, I need you. You're my talisman, don't lee-avv-ee me." I see a stray tear slip from his eye. My heart breaks over and over for this man. He's mine.

"Never! I cannot imagine a life without you." I look into his eyes as I say the very  words that modifies us. I gather him into my arms, careful not to hurt him. I hold him, molding him into my bosom, I give him my strength, all of it. I take nothing. I'm willing and ready to give him all, which he takes. I heal him.

We revel in this heaven's match, knowing not what lays in ambush for the future. I am his strength.

Three months later, I'm sitting in the crook of my husband's arms, thinking about the future. My mind goes back to the recent happenings in the few months past, I wish the accident had happened earlier. I'm woken from my oneirism by a gentle forehead kiss.

I can detect something is bothering him. I look up at him, urging him to confide in me.

"Baby, can we adopt?" He breaks the silence this time.
The question rings like a mantra in my head. I slowly release him and stare into my lover's eyes. He has finally said the words that would put an end to this canker sore, destroying and eating up our marriage. I truely smile, for the first time in many months. I know I'll go to the ends of the earth for this man.

I go back to my favourite position, at his manubrium. I nuzzle his chest and take a deep breathe. Mine.

I mumble into his chest, like a little child clutching his favourite toy, "Yes baby, we can."

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