I met my husband when I was dusty and crusty. All I had between me and poverty was a small bedsitter and a lonely mattress on the floor. I was fresh out of campus and the little money I managed to save from my student loans quickly dwindled. However, that fateful day my soon to be husband walked in the office and, as cheesy as it sounds, I knew we were meant to be soulmates.
We courted each other for several months. He was a prominent politician and businessman so money wasn’t an issue to him. I was so impressed by his affluence. He’d come to pick me up at work in a big V8 car. Other times, he’d send over a bouquet of flowers and chocolates which I’d share with my workmates. All that attention and affection I received from him made me fall deeply in love with him.
“Is this where you live?” he asked the first time I let him drive me back home.
I nodded slightly embarrassed. By that time, I was earning a decent amount to find one bedroom house. But I had grown attached to my bedsitter.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gotten you a bigger apartment.” he continued.
“I like the place. It’s close enough to work and I can find anything I want within walking distance.” I explained.
“No, honey. That shouldn’t worry you. This isn’t the way a politician’s future wife should live.”
After seeing my living conditions, he asked me to move in with him and who was I to refuse? From living in a bedsitter to living in a three bedroom apartment in the leafy suburbs. It was amazing and everything was going well. I had a driver who would take me to and from work every day. He gave me his credit card so I could shop all I want and most importantly, he still loved me the same.
“What are you thinking about, sweetie?” I asked noticing he was deep in thought.
“My future wife shouldn’t be working an 8 to 5 job anymore. Should I open that business for you?” He asked holding me closely.
I couldn’t believe how my life was falling into place. I had shared with him my life-long dream to own a boutique and put my Business Administration degree to good use. However, my finances were in shambles and I couldn’t get a loan from any bank with my pending student loan.
“Really?” I asked thinking he was joking.
However, two months later, I had set up my boutique in Westlands and my business was in operation. I still kept my office job because things were also looking up on that side. My boss gave me a promotion and I was now the head of my department. At the boutique, I hired someone who would help with the sales and I would pop in every evening to see how things were going. It seemed like the perfect arrangement. I got to keep my job and be a business owner at the same time. Could things get any more perfect?
It turned out that they could. During a vacation I took with Hubert, he planned a romantic evening where he proposed to me. I was now going to be someone’s wife. It all felt like a dream but I was so in love with my husband that I didn’t think twice about it and immediately agreed. Our wedding took place at a private location with only a handful of guests present. It was a magical night, nonetheless.
We started our life as husband and wife with more good news. My business had picked up and I was now getting high-end clients who wanted designer clothes. I was very ambitious and didn’t think about taking on too much. So, I agreed to bring them whatever they needed. However, this meant that I had to travel to France and Italy to get them.
After consulting with my husband, he reluctantly agreed that I take a one-week trip. I could tell that he felt a bit insecure about the whole thing.
“You know European men are very aggressive. I would have wanted to go with you.”
“Babe, I’ll be fine. I’ll just shop and go back to my hotel room.” I assured him.
“Can’t you reschedule so that I can move my calendar?”
“The clients have been waiting for over a month. I have to go soon.”
The travel day came and my husband escorted me to the airport together with one of my close friends. We bid each other goodbye and I went to the boarding section. Soon, I was on a flight to Paris and 10 hours later, I was checking in my hotel. My shopping spree was a success and I was able to get everything my clients wanted and a few extra pieces for the boutique.
Back home, my husband had not communicated with me for the past three days. Every time I tried video calling him, it would go unanswered. I thought maybe it was the time difference and I brushed it off. He came to pick me up at the airport but this time around, my best friend wasn’t with him despite me asking her to come since I had some gifts for her.
My husband was evasive any time I would ask how his week had been. I was too tired to think too much into it and I went to sleep once I got home. My best friend called me the next day to check whether I got home safe. We agreed to meet for lunch later in the day and catch up on my trip.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to pick you at the airport. Hubert insisted on coming alone,” she explained.
“It’s okay. He’s been acting strange, though. What’s going on?” I enquired expecting a simple answer. However, I got the shock of my life.
“Hubert might be having an affair with your boutique girl.”
It almost didn’t sound real. I felt like I was in a bad dream and hoped that I’d wake up and find myself in bed. But the more she talked, the more reality dawned on me.
“So, I went to the apartment to get my jacket since I had an event that night. I let myself in knowing you nor Hubert was there. Guess who I found sitting on your couch, her legs on your ottoman, watching TV? That cheap girl you employed at the boutique. I didn’t even want to know what she was doing there but I chased her with a few slaps.” She explained then reached over to me.
I was sobbing uncontrollably wondering how long my husband had been cheating on me and what my life would become. Additionally, I was so ashamed to even show my face at my own boutique. However, my best friend kept it open and helped me with my clients as I dealt with my home problems.
After summoning the courage to confront Hubert, he apologized immensely. According to him, it was a slip up that would never happen again. We stayed in separate bedrooms for a month until I was comfortable to share a bed with him again.
“Just tell if she slept on our bed,” I asked him that night.
“You’re the only one I’d ever sleep next to,” he answered.
I still don’t know if I can trust him again. My bed will never feel the same no matter how much he tries to convince me that she was never there. However, divorce isn’t an option – not for him, at least.
The singlehood series is a collection of real-life stories and opinions from different people. It looks at the current world of dating around the world and the experiences that people have gone through. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the contributors and do not necessarily represent or reflect the views of Potentash.com.