Friend Took My Wife Behind My Back

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A Real Betrayal

June 10, 2020  
3 Comments on A Real Betrayal  

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I noticed his call on my wife’s phone around 10 PM. My wife was in the bathroom, so I answered. I greeted him, and he replied, “Masa, can we no longer call your wife in peace?” We both laughed heartily.  

That’s Owusu. He works at the same hospital as my wife, and it was through him that I met her.  

I vividly remember that day as if it were yesterday. I had gone to visit Owusu in his office at the hospital. While we were chatting, a stunning nurse walked in, files in hand. She wore a white dress and matching shoes. “Do you have this medication in stock? It was prescribed for one of my patients, but I want to confirm first,” she said.  

As Owusu checked the stock, she glanced at me and said, “Pardon my manners, I didn’t even greet you.” I replied, “No worries, it happens.” Owusu chimed in, “Mavis, this is Wisdom. A very good friend of mine. We went to the same senior high school and university.” She responded, “So you two go way back. It’s nice to see friends still connected after all this time.”  

We chatted for a while as Owusu continued his work. After she left, I told Owusu, “That girl is beautiful. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. Can I have her number?” He replied, “Wasn’t she just here? Why didn’t you ask her for it?”  

A week later, I returned and saw Mavis again. We talked, and three days later, when she was off-duty, I got her number from Owusu and called her. I mentioned I was at the hospital but she wasn’t working, so I just wanted to check in. She was delighted and laughed a lot. When I asked if I could visit her, she giggled and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be at work tomorrow. You can come by if you want to see me.”  

The next day, I stopped by just to say hello.  

That day, I made my intentions clear to Owusu: I wanted to date Mavis. He said, “She’s a good girl, but I doubt she’ll say yes. Many of my friends have approached her and all got turned down.” I replied, “Let me try my luck; after all, what do I have to lose?”  

There’s an unwritten rule that says, “A timid heart can never win the affection of a fair woman.” I didn’t want to assume she would reject me; I wanted to hear it from her. After knowing her for about a month, I asked her out, and she agreed. During our dinner, I asked about her fears, and she said, “Men.” I inquired, “What do you mean?” She replied, “Men lie. It’s hard to know what’s in a man’s heart. Today he loves you, tomorrow he’s indifferent.” I asked, “Are you speaking from experience?” She answered, “Yes. I’ve said yes three times, and each time they left just when I thought everything was fine.”  

I took my time with her, remaining friends until one day she finally said yes. It was one of the happiest days of my life.  

Knowing my feelings for her, I didn’t want to prolong our relationship. I understood her heart and knew she was the one. A little over a year into our relationship, we got married. At our wedding, Owusu approached me and said, “You’ve made me proud. I didn’t expect you two to get this far in such a short time.” He hugged me and Mavis. If you had visited my home a few years ago, you would have seen a large photo of me and Owusu embracing on the wall, celebrating our friendship and the fact that he brought Mavis and me together.  

Our story began beautifully, but not long after the wedding, Mavis and I started facing challenges. In the first month of our marriage, we argued more than we laughed. There were many things she disliked about me, and she expressed them in ways that made me furious. She was particularly bothered by how I chewed my food, claiming I made too much noise with my lips and teeth. Honestly, I had no idea this was an issue until she pointed it out, but her delivery felt demeaning: “Did you not learn table manners as a child? Why do you chew like you’re grinding maize?”  

She then got up and left me alone at the table. That night turned into a huge fight. She didn’t know how to apologize, and I didn’t know how to forgive without hearing “sorry,” so small disagreements often escalated into major conflicts.  

When she had morning shifts at the hospital, I always dropped her off before heading to work. One morning, I was running late, and it was entirely her fault. She hadn’t woken up early and moved at a snail’s pace as if there was no urgency. Just minutes before our usual departure time, she went to get her uniform and started ironing. I said, “You knew you had something to iron; why didn’t you ask me to do it while you were showering? We could have been on our way by now.”  

I don’t know what I said wrong or how I said it, but she snapped back, “Go, I don’t need you hovering over me like I’m a child you’re taking to school.” We exchanged harsh words until her uniform got burnt. You should have seen the insults fly, as if I had intentionally scorched her uniform. I angrily drove off, leaving her at home. All day, I called her to apologize, but she didn’t answer. In the evening, I told her, “It’s clear we’re both new to this marriage thing. This is our first time, so we’ll struggle, but trust me, we’ll improve as we go.”  

Four days later, we had another fight. I had sent money to my mother from our joint account without informing her. When she found out, I explained I would refund the money soon, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it. She became furious, hurling insults, and even my mother received her share of the wrath. Her final words were, “Clearly, this isn’t working; we should end it before it’s too late.” The next day, she went to the bank and withdrew half of the money from our joint account, saying, “The remaining half is yours. You can send everything to your mother now.”  

A part of me died that day. “Is this how every marriage begins, or am I just clueless about marriage?”  

That night, when I saw Owusu’s call on my wife’s phone, I seized the opportunity to discuss her behavior with him. I said, “Please talk to your sister for me. We’re only in our first year of marriage, but it feels like we’ve been married forever and are already exhausted. Kindly ask her to be patient. I know she listens to you; she might understand you better, so please speak to her.” All he said was, “Hmmm…let’s see.”  

On my wife’s birthday, I planned a surprise. I bought a cake and drinks and sent them to the hospital. The plan was for Owusu to call her to come over, and we would both yell “surprise!” I arrived at Owusu’s office that day, only to find Mavis sitting at his desk, both of them enjoying cake. The surprise was ruined, but too much cake doesn’t spoil the occasion, so we added mine to the mix. We ate, drank, and had fun until I left for work.  

You might wonder why I didn’t call Owusu before arriving with the gift. The answer is that we were at a point in our lives where we didn’t need to call before visiting each other. I knew where to find him, and he knew where to find me. After I got married, we became less close, but nothing changed. Owusu knew Mavis before I did, and she listened to him more because they were friends long before I entered the picture. I needed to leverage Owusu’s influence on my wife to make things work.  

One evening, after my wife had gone to work, I decided to visit Owusu to talk. That morning, my wife had said something that sent chills down my spine: she asked for a divorce. Maybe she didn’t mean it, but the fact that she could mention divorce at this stage of our marriage terrified me. When I arrived at his place, I knocked three times, but there was no response. I checked the time; it was 9:35 PM. “Is he sleeping?” I could hear loud music coming from the living room, so I turned the doorknob, and it opened. The TV was on, and the sound system was blaring, but no one was in the living room. I called out his name, and he responded from inside his bedroom, so I sat on the sofa waiting for him.  

On the sofa in front of me lay a nurse’s uniform. It didn’t bother me; it could belong to anyone. Next to the coffee table was a half pair of shoes, and near the bedroom entrance was another pair. Those shoes looked familiar. “Oh no, this can’t be….”  

I called out his name again, and he responded, but he still didn’t come out. I picked up the uniform from the chair and lifted it to see the style; “Oh no…this can’t be Mavis’s dress.” I shouted his name again, and he replied, “I’ll be with you shortly…” I approached the bedroom door and turned the knob, but it was locked. I yelled, “Owusu, who’s with you? Is that Mavis? Tell me it’s not her. Why are her dress and shoes scattered around here? Speak to me!”  

He kept saying, “I’ll be with you shortly,” but minutes passed, and he still didn’t come out. I began banging on the door violently, and he shouted, “You want to break the door? I’m fixing things here; I’ll be there shortly.” I asked, “Why are Mavis’s shoes and uniform lying around?” That’s when it hit me to call Mavis’s number. I dialed, and the phone started ringing somewhere in the living room. I searched the room and finally found the phone wedged in the armrest of the sofa.  

I needed no further proof that the woman Owusu was with was my wife, but how did we end up here? How did it come to pass that a childhood friend of mine gave me a wife with one hand and took her back with the other? How did this happen, and for how long had it been going on?  

I collapsed onto the sofa, feeling utterly defeated. I didn’t know what to do or say; I kept screaming their names and banging on the door for several minutes, but they remained silent. I wasn’t leaving that room until they came out.  

My banging and shouting attracted the attention of some neighbors, and two of them came to ask what was wrong, but I didn’t say a word. I continued banging and yelling. Eventually, the landlord and two other men entered and tried to persuade me to leave. When I refused, they lifted me and carried me outside, knowing what was happening and wanting to prevent further conflict.  

I waited for her all night, but she didn’t come home. Her phone and uniform were with me. I called her parents to see if she was there, and they said, “She’s here, and she told us about the embarrassment you caused her and her colleague just because you found her in his house.” Hours later, I was at her parents’ house explaining everything. She screamed from behind that I was lying, claiming, “Because of his violent behavior, I asked him for a divorce even before that incident.”

Her parents were firmly on her side, particularly her father. They intervened in our issues, handling things in a way they deemed appropriate. I had no intention of taking her back, not for anything, but it pained me deeply that her parents were treating me this way. She never acknowledged the incident as it truly occurred, and all the witnesses present at the time refused to support my account.

In the end, she obtained the divorce she sought. Two years later, she and Owusu married in secret, unable to invite even their closest friends to the ceremony. They were hiding from the weight of their own shame.

Knowing Mavis as I do, I felt a sense of satisfaction that Owusu would finally face the consequences he deserved. Marrying Mavis would be his punishment, a slow demise, as a woman like her is akin to a gradual poison in a cup. She wouldn’t destroy him instantly; instead, she would methodically inflict pain until he begged for release, but by then, even his enemies would refuse to deliver the final blow. That thought brings me joy. They both deserve whatever fate awaits them.

Wisdom

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