EPISODE SEVEN.
MY HUSBAND’S SECOND WIFE.
( THAT WHICH YOU SEEK, YOU SHALL FIND)
As soon as she said that, Solomon raised his hand to hit her in anger—but Winnie caught his hand with her right hand and, without thinking, smacked him hard across the cheek with her left.
“You dare hit me?!”
Solomon’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at his wife. Even Winnie was stunned—she hadn’t realized when she struck him back. It just happened.
“And so what?” she continued fiercely. “You’re not the only one with hands, dear husband. Try raising yours against me again, and I swear, I’ll chop both of them off and use them to prepare your next meal!”
With that, she flung his hand away and stormed into her room, leaving Solomon rooted to the spot—shock and confusion etched all over his.
What just happened?
Did his quiet, fearful wife just slap him and threaten him?
Had Winnie started smoking—or taking something stronger?
If not for the fact that she still had the same face and body, Solomon would have concluded that his wife was no longer the Winnie he once knew—but an entirely different being.
“Babe, why are you standing like that?” Anita asked as she stepped into the sitting room, finding her husband frozen like a statue. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she added, her voice laced with confusion.
Solomon blinked slowly, raising a brow at her. She looked like she had just returned from shopping, judging by the two bags in her hands.
“Where are you coming from?” he asked flatly, his tone indifferent. Written by Authoress Winnie. B. Onuh.
“Oh, a very good friend of mine was opening her boutique today, so I went to support her and picked up a few things,” Anita replied with a smile.
Solomon let out a brief chuckle, then stopped abruptly. “So, you woke up early this morning, skipped making my breakfast, and went out to spend my money—right?”
Anita sighed in irritation. “You’re my husband. If I don’t spend your money, who else will? And as for your meal, let your old wife handle that. After all, that’s the only good thing she’s capable of.”
Solomon nodded and beckoned for her to come closer. Anita hesitated, staring at his face. But when she saw that he was smiling, she dropped her shopping bags and took a cautious step forward.
Slap!
Solomon smacked her hard across the cheek, and she let out a loud scream. But the beating didn’t stop there. Every ounce of anger he had been bottling up was unleashed on Anita. He beat her relentlessly until he felt satisfied, then left her sobbing on the floor as he walked out. Written by authoress Winnie. B. Onuh.
Lying there in pain, a wicked idea suddenly popped into Anita’s head—one that might save her from more beatings. Wiping her tears, she clutched her stomach and staggered into Mama’s bedroom, crying louder.
Mama raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Mama,” Anita sobbed, “your son beat me again—just because I didn’t prepare breakfast. And he didn’t even let me explain why I couldn’t!”
“And what could be the reason you didn’t prepare his breakfast?” Mama asked, her tone cold and unconcerned. In her mind, it wasn’t a big deal—she had endured beatings in her own marriage, so she saw no reason why her son’s wife should be exempt.
“Mama, I’m pregnant,” Anita lied, continuing in a pitiful voice as she sobbed harder. “And the doctor advised that since the pregnancy is still in the early stages, I should stay away from the kitchen for now.”
The moment Mama heard the word pregnant, she sprang off the bed and rushed toward her, her face lighting up with excitement.
“You’re pregnant?” she asked in disbelief.
Anita nodded quickly, still holding her stomach and pretending to be in pain.
“I said it! I knew you were a fruitful wife!” Mama exclaimed, dancing around with joy before gently leading Anita to sit on the bed.
“My dear, please forgive your husband. I promise you—this will be the last time he ever lays a hand on you. Nothing must happen to my grandson.”
Anita sneered inwardly. Just moments ago, when she complained about her husband beating her, Mama showed no concern at all. But the moment she mentioned being pregnant, her entire attitude changed.
Of course, Anita didn’t show any of that on her face. Instead, she smiled sweetly and asked in a small, soft voice, “But Mama, who will be making his breakfast now?”
Mama scoffed. “Leave that witch to me. No matter what, she’s still married to my son and must prepare his breakfast. If she refuses, she’ll pack her things and go back to her father’s house. Just go upstairs, relax, tend to your wounds—I’ll handle that old hag myself.” Mama assured her with a smile before turning and leaving the room, heading straight to Winnie’s.
Anita wanted to laugh, but the pain she felt made her wince instead. “This Solomon is just a beast,” she muttered under her breath. With a deep sigh, she gently carried herself to her room.
She had another problem to deal with now—figuring out how to actually get pregnant.
Meanwhile, Winnie was about to enjoy her breakfast of tea, bread, and fried eggs when Mama barged into her room without knocking. She raised a brow and muttered, “I really need to start locking my door.”
“Lock which door? In whose house?!” Mama thundered, glaring at her with pure disgust.
“My husband’s house,” Winnie replied casually, her attention fixed on her food as she continued eating without the slightest pause.
“I’m talking to you, and you’re still eating?” Mama snapped. “I see the blood of my grandchildren that you sacrificed at your coven has upgraded your confidence—that’s why you no longer have any fear!”
At the mention of her dead children, Winnie paused for a moment. The memory of her baby’s things—the ones Mama had heartlessly burned—flashed through her mind. Anger surged within her, and for a brief second, she wanted nothing more than to strangle the old woman. Written by Authoress Winnie. B. Onuh.
But on second thought, she took a deep breath, pushed the rage down, and calmly resumed eating.
“I’m glad you know I’ve been upgraded,” Winnie said coolly. “So the earlier you get out of my room, the better for you.” Written by Authoress Winnie b. Onuh.
“What?” Mama asked in disbelief. “Are you asking me to leave your room?”
Winnie looked up at her with calm defiance. “You might be old, but are you also dumb?”
Fuming with rage, Mama stormed over to where Winnie was eating and flipped the small table, sending the food crashing to the floor.
“You’re still my son’s wife, so you will obey me!” she yelled, jabbing a finger in Winnie’s face. Winnie glared back, her eyes burning with fury.
“Now listen to me carefully,” Mama continued. “Anita is pregnant, and I won’t let anything happen to her or her baby. From today onward, you will be in charge of preparing their meals—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—for both my son and his wife. If you don’t like it, you can pack your bags and leave this house!”
Winnie chuckled like she’d just heard the biggest joke of the century. After a while, she stopped, bent down, picked up a small piece from the broken plate, and stood up. Her expression was cold—deadly calm—as she walked toward the elderly woman.
“I know why you’re always so bitter,” she said in a low, cutting tone. “Your husband beat you black and blue during your own marriage. You lost up to five babies, didn’t you? Solomon was the only one who survived. Am I right?” Written by Authoress Winnie .b .onuh
She tilted her head slightly, wearing a wicked smile.
Mama’s eyelids trembled.
“W-What nonsense is coming out of your mouth?” she stammered.
Winnie curled her lips into a slight smirk. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were weak, and you allowed your mother-in-law and husband to do whatever they wanted to you. You think you can do the same to me? You suffered, so you think it’s right for me to suffer too? No, Mama. Not anymore. I’m not you, and I will never be you.”
Her voice grew colder as she continued, “The day your son beat out my three children, nearly costing me my life, that’s when I cursed him—cursed him never to father a child again, since he killed the ones sent to him.”
Winnie laughed mockingly. “Anita is pregnant, you say? Just know this—you’re going to be scammed by that girl. You’ll never be a grandmother in your life. Mark my words!” Written by Authoress Winnie .b. Onuh.
Mama raised her hand to slap her, but Winnie quickly caught her wrist with her right hand. With the left, still holding a piece of the broken plate, she pressed it dangerously close to Mama’s neck.
“I can cut your throat right now,” Winnie said coldly, “You would lose your life, and I would still not go to jail. Don’t push me, old woman.” Written by Mhiz Winnie Onuh.
“W-What are you doing…?” Mama swallowed hard, her eyes betraying the fear beneath her bold exterior.
“I’m telling you to stay the hell away from me,” Winnie snapped, her voice icy. “Now, get out!”
To be continued.
Boldness in the highest level