FOUR : The words a woman loves to hear most…

‘What does a woman love to hear more than the three words “I love you”?

“Your account has been credited.”

Well, I can’t speak for other women – but for Yolanda, nothing came close.

The moment the text message landed on her phone, an elated Yolanda – who had not spoken to Gershom in almost two days – picked up her phone and called him.

On the other side, Feggy had just reached for Gershom’s phone to move it aside as she laid out the clothes she had finished ironing, when it rang in her hands.

The caramel-skinned beauty’s face flashed on the screen.

Looking at the woman who had dismantled her marriage, Feggy had the urge to smash the phone on the floor. Just as she was contemplating her next move, a hand snaked out and snatched it from her, startling her.

‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ he growled.

‘Nothing. The phone was in the way.’

Gershom clicked his tongue, threw her an angry glare, turned his back on her, and sat on the edge of the bed. The moment his eyes landed on the screen, his face softened entirely.

‘Yolie. My Yolie. This is a surprise.’

Yolanda’s soft, coquettish voice filled his ears from the other side. The smile that spread across Gershom’s face was as wide as his mouth would allow.

‘Babe, good morning.’

‘Good morning, love. Did you get the message already?’

Yolanda confirmed she had and thanked him for keeping his promise. The two went on to talk like a pair of lovesick teenagers. Though he was fully aware that his wife was still in the same room, Gershom didn’t give a damn.

The situation was not new to Feggy. But each time he did this – each time he insulted her in this manner – it hurt as though it were the first time. As though she were only just discovering that the love of her life, the man who had made vows before God, the father of her children, had betrayed her trust and soiled their marital bed.

Fighting the urge to confront him and risk further humiliation, she simply walked out and went to tend to her children.

Feggy had long given up and accepted the situation for what it was.

For over a year, this affair had continued. In all those months, she had lost pieces of her self-esteem and repeatedly humiliated herself before him, his mistress, and strangers. She had fought with Gershom, demanded he respect her and the vows he had made — and he had told her plainly that if she couldn’t take the heat, she was free to go.

Those words had hurt then. They still hurt now. She meant nothing to him. His children meant nothing to him. The word family meant nothing to him. The vows he had made before family, friends, and God — all of it meant nothing.

Pushing thoughts of Gershom and his mistress aside, she walked into her children’s room, woke them with kisses, and got them ready for school. Once she was done, she led them to the dining room and served them bowls of porridge.

‘Mom,’ the eldest, Joseph, called out as she breastfed Bertha.

‘Yes, honey.’

‘There’s no sugar in the porridge. Can I have some?’

‘Me too, mummy,’ chipped in the adorable six-year-old Sandra, a first-grader.

Feggy looked at the nine-year-old, who was a replica of his father. He stared at her innocently. The expectant look on both their faces tore at her heart. She reached out and gently rubbed the cheek of the child nearest to her.

‘I’m sorry, sweeties. Could you bear with mummy for a little while? Mummy forgot to buy sugar. She’ll get some next time, okay?’

‘I’m sure daddy has money. I’ll go ask him,’ Joseph said, already pushing back his chair.

His little sister cheered him on.

‘Sweetie, come here. Let’s not trouble daddy, okay?’

‘Why? I saw daddy with money last night. I’m sure some of it is for sugar.’

Feggy smiled sadly. She had seen the money too but had said nothing, hoping he would reason for himself and think of his children. She would rather they endure unsweetened porridge than risk her son being shouted at. Whenever he was talking to Yolanda, any interruption set him off. His time with his mistress was sacred.

‘Just eat your porridge. Be a good boy, okay?’

‘Okay.’

Feggy smiled at his reluctant reply. Once Joseph settled back in his chair, she turned and looked down the corridor. Gershom’s cheerful voice still carried from the bedroom. Nearly an hour had passed since the call came in.

A little later, Gershom emerged, dressed and ready for work. He grabbed his car keys off the rack and headed for the door without so much as glancing at his children.

‘Morning, daddy!’ Sandra called out brightly.

‘Good morning, dad,’ Joseph added.

‘Morning,’ he replied, without looking their way.

The two children looked down at their food, their faces falling. His dismissiveness towards them made Feggy’s blood boil. She stood and followed him out.

‘Are you leaving now?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘There’s nothing to eat in the house.’

‘I don’t have money either. Just make a plan — I’m late for work. Go and open the gate.’

‘Make a plan? What plan, Gershom?’ She barely kept her voice level, gently rubbing Bertha’s back as she fixed her eyes on him. ‘Look — they are your children too. I did not make them alone. The responsibility of feeding them falls on both of us. Your children have not had a decent meal in weeks.

;Why should they have to live like orphans when both their parents are alive? Why should I live as though I am a widow when my husband is standing right in front of me, capable and choosing not to?’

She drew a breath.

‘Fine. I understand – I disgust you, you don’t want me, your Yolie is everything I am not. I can live with that. What I will not stand for is what you are doing to your children. If you knew you were not man enough to raise a family, you should never have started one.’

‘You are really determined to ruin my morning, aren’t you?’

‘Ha! Pointing out your responsibilities to you makes me troublesome now? Unbelievable.’

Gershom reached into his trouser pocket and fished around. When he pulled his hand out, he held a single hundred kwacha note. He walked to her and tucked it loosely into Bertha’s shawl, his cold gaze fixed on her. The note, not properly secured, slipped and fell to the ground.

‘Is that enough to buy me some peace around here?’

Feggy gritted her teeth. She looked at the note on the ground and was certain he had dropped it on purpose.

‘You—!’

‘Can I go to work now?’ He cut her off, turned his back, and walked to the car.

Feggy bent down and picked up the note, crumpling it in her fist. He hit the hooter.

‘Are you going to stand there all day? Open the gate already.’

Feggy scoffed, turned her back on him, and walked towards the house. ‘Open it yourself.’

Gershom cursed under his breath, got out, and opened the gate himself.

Back inside, Feggy urged the children to hurry — the school bus would be there soon. She strapped the sleeping Bertha to her back, gathered their bags, and walked them out.

Gershom hadn’t bothered to close the gate behind him. Feggy shook her head.

Stopping at the shop next door, she bought two fruits, two Super Shake drinks, and scones, tucked them into each child’s bag, and promised she would bring their lunch herself. With their break sorted, she felt the faintest thread of relief. She walked them to the corner of the street where the school bus collected the neighbourhood children. A minute after they arrived, a bright yellow Rosa bus decorated with cartoon characters pulled up.

The door opened and a young woman in her twenties stepped out, greeting the waiting children and parents. When her eyes landed on Feggy, her expression shifted — surprise, then something like guilt. She came over quickly, an apologetic smile already forming, as the children began filing onto the bus.

‘Joseph. Sandra. Good morning.’

‘Good morning, Miss Mbewe,’ the two chorused, holding their mother’s hand.

‘Miss Mbewe – is everything okay?’ Feggy had not missed the look.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs. Chomba. We can no longer allow the children to board the bus. They still owe fees from the last two terms.’

Miss Mbewe explained gently that reminders had been sent home with the children, and as a last resort, the school had called the principal guardian – their father. The only reason the children had been permitted to continue was their previously reliable payment history. But when management received no response from Gershom, they had no choice. The outstanding balance was nearly eight thousand kwacha.

‘Mrs. Chomba, it would be a shame for the children to fall out of school over this. I hope it can be resolved as soon as possible.’ She reached into her pocket for her phone. ‘I have a friend who teaches at a government school. If you’re facing difficulties, it may be worth enrolling them there in the meantime. They already read and write well – I’m sure they’d adjust. I’ll send you her contact details.’

Long after the bus had pulled away, Feggy stood rooted to the spot.

She hadn’t thought he would stoop so low as to sacrifice their children’s education.

Sandra’s gentle tug on her arm brought her back. As they walked home, Feggy took out her phone and called Gershom. He ignored it. When she texted asking why the school fees had not been paid, he replied with a single message:

I’m in a meeting. I’ll call you back later.

Feggy stared at the screen, lost for words.

***

Gershom’s meeting was, in fact, him walking out of a restaurant with a scrumptious takeaway breakfast for four. Once back on the road, he called his assistant and cancelled every appointment for the day.

He switched off his phone and drove to Yolanda’s university.

By the time he arrived at the private university hostels, students were streaming to their classes. Yolanda and her roommates had not yet left.

The girls were thrilled to see him, and when he presented the breakfast, they could barely contain their excitement. Having someone foot the bills for their lifestyle meant more money stayed in their own pockets, and the praises from Sofia and Betty flowed nonstop.

Hearing himself called the best mulamu ever had Gershom’s ego soaring.

He promised the girls he would take them shopping once classes were done.

After breakfast, Yolanda shooed her friends out. She had something special planned for her man.

Hours later, Sofia and Betty called to say they were free. Gershom and Yolanda met them in the car park, and Yolanda drove the Honda CRV into town. He walked them into their favourite boutique and let them shop without limit, the price tags registering nothing to him. After shopping came a fancy restaurant, and after the restaurant, the drive back to campus to drop off Sofia and Betty – before he took Yolanda to their favourite hotel.

The two stayed cooped up in that room for several weeks.

In all that time, Gershom never once called home.

VOCAB

Mulamu — brother-in-law [ here, its been used informally among friends to refer to a friend’s partner