The first night I saw my best friend with my husband, I did what they never imagined... They were both in the bedroom...
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MY BEST FRIEND STOLE MY MAN
CHAPTER 1
If somebody had told me that the person who would destroy my life was the same person I used to share my clothes and secrets with, I would have laughed in their face.
But now, the only thing I laugh at is my own stupidity.
My name is Amaka, and my wedding was in two weeks.
I had the man. I had the ring. I had the aso-ebi colors picked out. I had my best friend by my side — or so I thought.
It was a hot Wednesday morning in Enugu. I remember clearly because NEPA had just brought light and I was dancing in my towel, holding my phone and playing “Baby Riddim” by Fave. My cheeks were hurting from smiling too much. Obinna, my fiancé, had just sent me money for my gele and shoes.
“Nne, I want you to look like a goddess that day,” he said. “The whole world must know you’re mine.”
God knows I loved that man.
Chiamaka, my best friend since secondary school, was sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone and laughing at a meme.
“See this one,” she said, turning the phone to show me a picture of a bride whose makeup looked like she fought with a clown.
I laughed. “Chia, that can never be me. My makeup artist is charging sixty thousand.”
“Ehen? So now you’re a big girl, eh?” she teased, throwing a pillow at me.
We laughed like that for minutes. Two friends. Two sisters. Or so I thought.
I didn’t know she was laughing because she already knew something I didn’t.
That morning, Obinna called. His voice was deep and warm. “Have you eaten?”
“No,” I smiled. “Waiting for you to bring me food.”
Chiamaka raised her eyebrow and whispered, “Tell him to bring for both of us o!”
Obinna chuckled over the phone. “Alright. I’m coming with your favorite — nkwobi and cold malt.”
When the call ended, Chiamaka looked at me with a sly smile. “You’re lucky o. This your Obinna, he’s sweet die.”
I nodded. “He is.”
She stood up. “Let me go bath. I want to look fine before he comes. You know your man likes seeing fine girls.”
We laughed again.
But in that laugh, something shifted.
I didn’t catch it then. But now, thinking back, I see it clearly. The way she looked at me. The way she said “your man.”
There was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
That evening, when Obinna came, I noticed he didn’t hug me the way he used to. It was quick. Cold. His eyes darted around like he was hiding something.
He handed me the nylon bag. “Your food.”
“Thanks baby,” I smiled, trying to hold his hand.
He pulled it away too fast.
Chiamaka came out wearing a short gown that hugged her in all the wrong places. Her makeup was too much for a simple evening, but she walked like she was on a runway.
Obinna’s eyes followed her for a second too long.
I noticed.
I pretended not to.
We all sat in the parlor and watched a movie. But Obinna laughed at jokes that weren’t funny. He barely looked at me. When Chiamaka stood to go get water, his eyes followed her again.
My heart skipped.
Something wasn’t right.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay on the bed while Chiamaka snored beside me. I stared at the ceiling and asked myself one question:
“What if love is not enough?”
To be continued….
Oluchi Onyeaghala
.
MY BEST FRIEND STOLE MY MAN
CHAPTER 1
If somebody had told me that the person who would destroy my life was the same person I used to share my clothes and secrets with, I would have laughed in their face.
But now, the only thing I laugh at is my own stupidity.
My name is Amaka, and my wedding was in two weeks.
I had the man. I had the ring. I had the aso-ebi colors picked out. I had my best friend by my side — or so I thought.
It was a hot Wednesday morning in Enugu. I remember clearly because NEPA had just brought light and I was dancing in my towel, holding my phone and playing “Baby Riddim” by Fave. My cheeks were hurting from smiling too much. Obinna, my fiancé, had just sent me money for my gele and shoes.
“Nne, I want you to look like a goddess that day,” he said. “The whole world must know you’re mine.”
God knows I loved that man.
Chiamaka, my best friend since secondary school, was sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone and laughing at a meme.
“See this one,” she said, turning the phone to show me a picture of a bride whose makeup looked like she fought with a clown.
I laughed. “Chia, that can never be me. My makeup artist is charging sixty thousand.”
“Ehen? So now you’re a big girl, eh?” she teased, throwing a pillow at me.
We laughed like that for minutes. Two friends. Two sisters. Or so I thought.
I didn’t know she was laughing because she already knew something I didn’t.
That morning, Obinna called. His voice was deep and warm. “Have you eaten?”
“No,” I smiled. “Waiting for you to bring me food.”
Chiamaka raised her eyebrow and whispered, “Tell him to bring for both of us o!”
Obinna chuckled over the phone. “Alright. I’m coming with your favorite — nkwobi and cold malt.”
When the call ended, Chiamaka looked at me with a sly smile. “You’re lucky o. This your Obinna, he’s sweet die.”
I nodded. “He is.”
She stood up. “Let me go bath. I want to look fine before he comes. You know your man likes seeing fine girls.”
We laughed again.
But in that laugh, something shifted.
I didn’t catch it then. But now, thinking back, I see it clearly. The way she looked at me. The way she said “your man.”
There was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
That evening, when Obinna came, I noticed he didn’t hug me the way he used to. It was quick. Cold. His eyes darted around like he was hiding something.
He handed me the nylon bag. “Your food.”
“Thanks baby,” I smiled, trying to hold his hand.
He pulled it away too fast.
Chiamaka came out wearing a short gown that hugged her in all the wrong places. Her makeup was too much for a simple evening, but she walked like she was on a runway.
Obinna’s eyes followed her for a second too long.
I noticed.
I pretended not to.
We all sat in the parlor and watched a movie. But Obinna laughed at jokes that weren’t funny. He barely looked at me. When Chiamaka stood to go get water, his eyes followed her again.
My heart skipped.
Something wasn’t right.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay on the bed while Chiamaka snored beside me. I stared at the ceiling and asked myself one question:
“What if love is not enough?”
To be continued….
Oluchi Onyeaghala
The first night I saw my best friend with my husband, I did what they never imagined... They were both in the bedroom...
.
MY BEST FRIEND STOLE MY MAN
CHAPTER 1
If somebody had told me that the person who would destroy my life was the same person I used to share my clothes and secrets with, I would have laughed in their face.
But now, the only thing I laugh at is my own stupidity.
My name is Amaka, and my wedding was in two weeks.
I had the man. I had the ring. I had the aso-ebi colors picked out. I had my best friend by my side — or so I thought.
It was a hot Wednesday morning in Enugu. I remember clearly because NEPA had just brought light and I was dancing in my towel, holding my phone and playing “Baby Riddim” by Fave. My cheeks were hurting from smiling too much. Obinna, my fiancé, had just sent me money for my gele and shoes.
“Nne, I want you to look like a goddess that day,” he said. “The whole world must know you’re mine.”
God knows I loved that man.
Chiamaka, my best friend since secondary school, was sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone and laughing at a meme.
“See this one,” she said, turning the phone to show me a picture of a bride whose makeup looked like she fought with a clown.
I laughed. “Chia, that can never be me. My makeup artist is charging sixty thousand.”
“Ehen? So now you’re a big girl, eh?” she teased, throwing a pillow at me.
We laughed like that for minutes. Two friends. Two sisters. Or so I thought.
I didn’t know she was laughing because she already knew something I didn’t.
That morning, Obinna called. His voice was deep and warm. “Have you eaten?”
“No,” I smiled. “Waiting for you to bring me food.”
Chiamaka raised her eyebrow and whispered, “Tell him to bring for both of us o!”
Obinna chuckled over the phone. “Alright. I’m coming with your favorite — nkwobi and cold malt.”
When the call ended, Chiamaka looked at me with a sly smile. “You’re lucky o. This your Obinna, he’s sweet die.”
I nodded. “He is.”
She stood up. “Let me go bath. I want to look fine before he comes. You know your man likes seeing fine girls.”
We laughed again.
But in that laugh, something shifted.
I didn’t catch it then. But now, thinking back, I see it clearly. The way she looked at me. The way she said “your man.”
There was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
That evening, when Obinna came, I noticed he didn’t hug me the way he used to. It was quick. Cold. His eyes darted around like he was hiding something.
He handed me the nylon bag. “Your food.”
“Thanks baby,” I smiled, trying to hold his hand.
He pulled it away too fast.
Chiamaka came out wearing a short gown that hugged her in all the wrong places. Her makeup was too much for a simple evening, but she walked like she was on a runway.
Obinna’s eyes followed her for a second too long.
I noticed.
I pretended not to.
We all sat in the parlor and watched a movie. But Obinna laughed at jokes that weren’t funny. He barely looked at me. When Chiamaka stood to go get water, his eyes followed her again.
My heart skipped.
Something wasn’t right.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay on the bed while Chiamaka snored beside me. I stared at the ceiling and asked myself one question:
“What if love is not enough?”
To be continued….
Oluchi Onyeaghala
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