Musa’s smile remained fixed as he turned his head toward the sound.
I realized I was trapped inside a marriage I never truly understood.
And beneath our bed, someone who looked exactly like me was still breathing.
He did not knock.
I heard the metallic scrape of the gate as someone from outside unlocked the smaller pedestrian entrance with a spare key.
Musa stepped back respectfully, lowering his head as Obinna walked in slowly, adjusting his wristwatch like nothing was wrong.
He looked at me standing in the middle of the compound with a travel bag hanging from my trembling hand.
His face showed no anger.
Only disappointment.
“Nneka,” he said calmly, closing the distance between us step by step, “why are you outside with a bag?”
My throat felt dry, but I forced the words out.
“There is a woman under our bed.”
He did not react the way a confused husband should.
