I Pretended to Be a House Girl—Just to Catch My Husband with My Cousin

I wore rags. Removed my nails. Scratched off every trace of who I was. Then I knocked on the gate of my own home—as a stranger. And that was the day I confirmed that betrayal has a face... and it looks just like my own cousin.

Kelvin and I had been married for five years. And like every typical newlywed African woman, I prayed and fasted for the success of my marriage more than I prayed for my own life. I had given up my job in Port Harcourt to move in with him in Abuja. I believed in him. I trusted him with my whole heart. I never even suspected a snake could be lying beside me in my own bed.

Then came Efe.

My cousin.

She was my late uncle’s daughter. After her father died, I took her in like a sister. I brought her to the city. Gave her a place to stay. Registered her for a fashion design course. Bought her clothes. Paid her bills. She called me "Big Sis."

I called her "My little twin."

That was before I realized she had twin intentions: one for fashion, and one for my husband.

It started slowly.

Kelvin used to be the kind of husband who couldn't wait to see me at the end of the day. Suddenly, he was too tired to talk. Too busy to eat my food. Too distracted to touch me.

Efe became his new laughter buddy. They would sit in the living room and joke for hours. I thought nothing of it. I told myself, "She's family. She's young. He probably sees her like a sister too."

Until the day I came home early from the salon.

I opened the door quietly, hoping to surprise Kelvin. I heard sounds from upstairs. I tiptoed.

The sounds became moans.

I climbed the stairs with my heart in my throat. My bedroom door was slightly open. I pushed it slowly...

And saw both of them.

On my bed.

Sweaty.

Naked.

Efe was on top of my husband.

I gasped.

Efe turned. Kelvin froze. The room stank of betrayal. But what hurt more was the shamelessness in their faces.

Kelvin covered himself lazily and said, "You should knock next time."

I stood there. Speechless. My heart tearing into pieces.

Efe simply smiled. A wicked, tiny curve of her lips. Like she had finally won.

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I cried silently. I stared at the ceiling. And I made up my mind.

If they could break me in my own house, I would break them in theirs.

I made a plan. A mad plan. A painful plan. But one I needed for closure.

I told them I was traveling to Lagos for a 3-day work trip.

I packed a bag. Booked a hotel just 15 minutes away. Called my friend Linda, a professional makeup artist. She helped me change my look. I transformed.

Hair hidden under a scarf. Nails removed. Contact lenses to dull my eyes. Old wrapper. Slippers. Voice changed.

I became Mariam. The new house help from Kogi.

I knocked on my own gate.

Efe opened it.

She looked at me up and down.

"Yes? Who are you?"

I bent my head, spoke in the softest voice I could manage. "Na Madam send me. Say make I come help. She dey travel."

Efe rolled her eyes. "Madam no tell me anything. But come in. Oga go see you."

I walked into my own house like a stranger.

I wanted to collapse.

But I held myself.

Then I saw him.

Kelvin.

In boxers. Eating suya in the living room. Watching football.

He looked at me and smirked. "Na you be the new help?"

I nodded.

He smiled. "You go sleep for down. Kitchen work na your own. And anything I say, you go do."

I swallowed hard.

In that moment, I died a little.

First day, he ignored me.

Second day, he touched my waist as I washed plates.

Third day, I saw him sneak into Efe’s room.

Fourth day, he asked me to massage his legs. Said I looked like I had strong hands.

I wanted to scream.

But I waited.

Until the fifth day.

He came behind me in the kitchen. Touched me again.

Said: "You fine o, even with all this village dressing."

That was the last straw.

I turned.

Tore off my scarf.

Removed my wrapper.

And screamed: "YOU’RE TOUCHING YOUR WIFE, FOOL!"

He jumped back.

Efe came running in.

She saw me. Froze.

I pulled out my phone. Showed them the camera footage from hidden angles.

"I have it all. Every dirty thing you did. I OWN YOU BOTH."

They started begging.

Kelvin went on his knees.

Efe tried to cry.

But I had cried all my tears.

I walked out.

Posted a short clip online.

And guess what?

That same night, Efe's mother called me from the village.

"My daughter is pregnant. For your husband."

I dropped the phone.

Collapsed.

To be continue....