In the dim glow of his living room in Lagos, Mr. Titus sat across from his best friend, Roland. The night was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan.
“Why not do away with her?” Roland asked, his voice low, testing the waters.
Titus shook his head slowly. “That stopped being an option long before we exchanged those sacred vows.”
Before Roland could reply, the front door flew open. Mrs. Margaret, Titus’ wife’s younger sister, rushed in, her face tight with worry. No words were needed—Titus and Roland understood instantly. Something terrible had happened again.
They arrived at the hospital in a blur. Mrs. Titus lay pale on the stretcher, eyes closed, as nurses wheeled her urgently toward the theatre. Titus walked beside her, gripping the rail, while Roland kept pace, silent and grim.
In the waiting room, hours stretched like days.
“This one is worse,” Roland muttered.
“I know,” Titus replied quietly.
“I hope she survives it.”
Titus turned to his friend with a look that mixed surprise, irony, and deep pity. He shook his head.
“See,” Roland continued, voice cracking, “I know what I said earlier, but I never meant death. I’m sorry. You may not believe me, but I wish her well. It’s just that—”
Titus raised a hand sharply, stopping him. He gently pushed Roland’s comforting hand off his shoulder.
Roland’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “My wife again. Fourth time tonight. I told her I was here.” He checked the time—nearly midnight. “I need to head home.”
“So you’ll leave me here alone with her all night?” Titus asked.
“Her sister is coming back, isn’t she?”
“She said she was.”
“No, she’s not,” Roland said firmly.
“What do you mean?”
“I overheard her on the phone, speaking our dialect to her husband. She said she’s done taking care of her sister.”
As if on cue, the door opened. Margaret walked in.
Titus shot Roland a small, triumphant look. “See? I told you she was coming back.”
Margaret approached. “Thank God you’re still here, Mr. Roland. You’re about to leave? Please, I’ll ride home with you.”
Titus frowned. “Take you home? I thought you were staying with your sister.”
“No, not at all,” Margaret replied. “I came back to tell you I’d returned, like I promised. But I’m tired. I’m done with her issues. I need to step away.”
She turned toward the exit. “I’ll wait by your car if you’re ready.”
Roland looked at Titus.
“Go ahead,” Titus said quietly. “Your wife is waiting. Margaret has tried.”
Roland hesitated, then nodded and left.
Later, in the dimly lit patient room, Mrs. Titus stirred. Her voice was weak. “Where is my sister?”
“She’s gone home,” Titus said, sitting close, holding her hand.
“She left me…”
“She went home. Don’t worry—she already told me the last time was her last.”
“So why are you still here?” she asked, eyes filling with tears.
Titus’ voice hardened with resolve, though anger flickered beneath it. “I am your husband. My place is by your side—for better or for worse.”
“But you knew,” she whispered. “Before we married, you knew about my weakness.”
“Yes. But I had already fallen in love with you.”
“You thought things would change?”
“I hoped they would. And I was ready for the consequences if they didn’t. I just wished they had.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she squeezed his hand.
Years passed.
Whispers followed her in the market, in the neighborhood. People called her a fool. “Even if the stories are true,” she would say fiercely to anyone who dared speak ill of him, “I won’t back off him. Those who don’t know our story call me foolish. Those who do know and still say it? They’re the worst—the most ungrateful.”
One day, from behind the bars of a police cell, Titus looked at his wife standing on the visitor’s side.
“I heard you’re standing up for me against your own family.”
“You are my family,” she said firmly. “My husband. A friend in need is a friend indeed. They stood by me during those dark spells—I appreciate them. But they couldn’t stay till the end. You did. Through the disgrace, the worst moments… even the last time the market women beat me for stealing again. It caused my third miscarriage in a row. You stood by me.”
They held each other’s gaze through the bars—pain, regret, but above all, unbreakable loyalty.
In time, the storms passed.
On a bright, sunlit day, Mr. and Mrs. Titus sat together on a boat cruise, the water sparkling around them. Their children laughed and played nearby, running across the deck, carefree and happy. Titus reached for his wife’s hand. She smiled at him, the kind of smile that carried every trial they had survived together.
They had endured—for better, for worse, till the very end.
And in that moment, with the breeze on their faces and their family whole, it was clear: love had won.
The End
