Nneka withdrew completely. She spoke only when necessary, avoided my eyes, and shared the same bed with me like a stranger. Her body lay beside mine each night, but her affection was absent. I would stare at the ceiling in the darkness, wondering how helping my own sister had turned my home into such a cold place.
One evening, I couldn’t endure it anymore.
“Nneka,” I said quietly, careful not to provoke another shutdown, “we can’t continue like this. Let’s talk.”
She let out a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“So now you want to talk?” she said. “After choosing your family over me?”
A dull ache settled in my chest.
“That money was mine,” I replied gently. “Rita needed it, and sending it didn’t affect us in any way.”
She shook her head slowly, as though I were a child who didn’t understand basic things.
“You don’t get it,” she said. “Every time you send money to them without consulting me, you push me aside.”
“But this isn’t about telling you,” I countered, my voice firmer now. “This is about you not approving it.”
I tried to explain. I told her about the sacrifices my parents made to raise us. About how my siblings and I were taught to look out for one another. I reminded her that generosity wasn’t something I learned after marriage; it was part of who I had always been.
But she wasn’t listening.
Te”ars filled her eyes as she spoke, her voice trembling with accusation.
“I left everything to marry you,” she said. “If I don’t draw boundaries now, your family will drain you dry. I’m only trying to protect us.”
I sat there for a long time, exhausted and conflicted, weighing peace against principle.
In the end, I apologized; not because I believed I had done something terribly wrong, but because I wanted calm in my home. I promised that next time, I would consult her before sending money. I assured her that our marriage came first.
Only then did her walls come down.
She reached for me again, telling me she reacted that way because she loved me and was afraid of losing me.
That night, she allowed me to hold her.
The silence finally broke.
But deep inside, I knew the issue hadn’t truly been resolved; it had only been covered over.
Not long after that incident, another problem surfaced.
She complained that I visited my parents too often.
“You’re always going there,” she said one evening. “You’re married now, Uche. You need to give them space. A married man cannot be running up and down like this.”
In a way, she sounded right.
So I reduced my visits.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Phone calls replaced presence. Slowly, quietly; without any major argument; a gap formed between me and my family, exactly as she wanted.
Two years passed.
Still, there was no pregnancy.
The absence of a child weighed heavily on her. Some days she became withdrawn and distant; other days, she cried without explanation. I tried to reassure her, reminding her that children come from God and that our time would come.
4 months later, the news arrived; Emeka was getting married.
As his only brother, my presence wasn’t optional. It was necessary.
When I told Nneka I would be traveling for the wedding, her face fell immediately.
“I’m not okay,” she said softly. “I’m depressed. I don’t have a child, and you want to leave me alone to travel for a wedding, I need you to stay and comfort me?”
I held her hands.
“Nobody d!ed that you will be needing comfort” I said calmly. “ Children come from God, not pressure. This is my brother’s wedding and I cannot miss it for anything.”
She was quiet for a long moment before nodding reluctantly.
“Okay,” she said.
“Infact, you should be there too” I said.
She shook her head.
“No. I have things to attend to at the office.”
The morning of my journey, I finished packing and stepped into the living room to pick up my bag.
That was when it happened.
Without warning, Nneka staggered forward and suddenly collapsed onto the floor.
I dropped everything and rushed to her side, calling her name in panic. She didn’t respond.
I lifted her and rushed her to the nearest hospital, my heart pounding wildly, calling her name over and over again.
She never opened her eyes.
At the hospital, doctors rushed her in immediately and started examining her.
Was she finally pregnant? Or what could be wrong with Nneka?
TO BE CONTINUED!…
