PART 9.
MY DESIRES
(A story Inspired by a true life event)
Philip Zimbardo once proclaimed, “s*xual desire is the
most powerful of all human desires.”
Meanwhile, Riley Shane cautioned, “Lust is a tool, while
desire is a trap. If you wield l*st you can take another’s
soul, but if you fall into desires, another can take your
soul.”
I found myself blindly consumed by my s*xual desires,
to the point that nothing else mattered. Now, I stand at
a crossroads, realizing that my s*xual relationship with
Daniel held deeper meaning for him; he still loved me.
Meanwhile, to me, my relationship with Daniel was all
about excitement, fun, and s*xu@l exploration. Leaving
my husband for him was never on my agenda.
However, his sudden confession forced me to
reevaluate my choices. It transported me down
memory lane, flooding my thoughts with the wonderful
moments shared with Daniel in the past. I even began
to imagine what life with him might be like.
Yet, my fantasies came crashing down when I
unearthed memories of how he once forced me into
having an abortion at the age of 22. This was during
my second year at university, after two years of dating
Daniel. At the time, we were cohabiting in his self-
contained apartment outside of school.
It’s worth noting that although Daniel came from a
broken home, his single mother, a successful
businesswoman from a well-to-do family, spared no
expense to provide him with the best. So he was living
the big boy’s life in school.
I moved in with him because I was deeply in love,
unable to bear the thought of being apart from him.
However, I kept this a secret from my mother, who
ignorantly continued to pay my hostel fees.
Whenever she planned to visit me in school, I made
sure to spend the night in Alex’s hostel to avoid
revealing that I had long abandoned my hostel and
was living with a young man my age but a few
months older.
A month after one of my passionate and back-to-back
s*xu@l encounters with Daniel, I noticed my
menstruation wasn’t forthcoming. Alarmed, I confided in
Daniel, who suggested it might be due to the constant
use of contraceptive pills he had introduced me to. I
trusted his explanation, but I soon developed a fever
and began self-medicating. For weeks, I tried various
drugs to combat the fever, but my menstrual flow
remained absent, and the fever persisted.
So I went on to confide in Alex, and she recommended
I consider infection treatment or a thorough medical
checkup. I eventually went for a medical examination,
confirming my pregnancy.
Hearing the news, Daniel who was terrified of
becoming a father at a young age, proposed abortion,
which I initially declined. In response, he became
hostile, threatening to throw me from his house and
end our relationship for good.
After much internal struggle, I had no choice but to give
in. The aftermath of the abortion was a terrifying,
excruciating experience that resulted in heavy bleeding
and loss of consciousness. I was rushed to the school
hospital, where miraculously, I was revived and treated.
Rediscovering these memories suddenly brought back
one of the key reasons why Daniel wasn’t the right
choice for me.
A few days later, my husband finally returned from his
lengthy trip. The kids were equally thrilled to have him
back, and I threw him a grand welcome party. Later
that night, as he reconnected with the children in the
living room, I found myself gazing at the picture-perfect
family we had, realizing I couldn’t choose Daniel over
them. It was as if watching them provided me with the
clarity I had been seeking.
Eventually, my children drifted off to sleep, and after
my husband and I had finished tucking them into their
beds, we retreated to our bedroom.
In our bedroom, my husband sat on the edge of the
bed and calmly beckoned to me.
“Hey, babe,” he said, wearing a gentle smile.
“Yes,” I replied, smiling back at him.
“Please, sit,” he requested, tapping the bed.
I sat down beside him, filled with curiosity.
“I just want to say that I’m sorry,” he began, his eyes
reflecting remorse as he rubbed his palms.
“Sorry? for what?” I inquired.
“For being away for such a long time. For leaving you
all alone and for dedicating most of my time and
attention to my work all this while,” he apologized,
looking at me with profound sincerity.
“What can I say?” I responded with a shrug, struggling
to find the right words.
“Babe,” he softly called, reaching for my hand.
“I want you to know that I love you and the kids
deeply and it’s true that I haven’t been a considerate
husband lately, but everything I do is for the
betterment of all of you. The truth is, Alex told me
about your struggles lately and how you’ve been
unable to share them with me because of fear of being
misunderstood. I am deeply sorry for giving you the
impression that I don’t care about your well-being or
that you are insignificant to me. However, I’m doing all
of this to shield you and our kids from ever
experiencing the hardships I endured as a child.”
“I don’t understand. What hardship are you talking
about?” I asked, genuinely puzzled and curious.
“Darling, I didn’t come from a privileged background. My
parents were so poor that securing three meals a day
was a luxury. My two younger siblings and I shared a
cramped single room with our parents. At the tender
age of 10, I witnessed my immediate younger sister’s
life slip away in my mother’s arms because we couldn’t
afford the surgery she needed for her appendix. It
ruptured in her stomach, leading to her agonizing
demise. A year later, my father succumbed to high
blood pressure which eventually led to his demise,
leaving me, my younger brother, and my mother to
battle for survival. We endured unimaginable hardships.
Despite all of these, my mother insisted I receive an
education. I didn’t disappoint her, even though the
journey was difficult. Since then, I’ve labored tirelessly
to ensure that she, my younger brother, you, and our
children live a comfortable life. All my efforts are
directed toward shielding my children from the dreadful
poverty I experienced. I apologize for not handling this
in the right way and for making you feel neglected and
lonely in the process. It was all for our collective well-
being,” he confessed.
“But why didn’t you share this aspect of your life with
me? Kennedy, we dated for six months, and by the
grace of God, we’ve been married for five years, yet
you never saw it fit to reveal such a significant part of
yourself to your wife?” I exclaimed, my shock evident.
“I’m deeply sorry, Vivian. I genuinely understand…”
“No, in fact, you don’t fully grasp the extent of the
damage your reluctance to open up has caused me. For
heaven’s sake, it led me to take unimaginable actions
based on countless assumptions, thinking you simply
didn’t care,” I retorted.
“I apologize, and I promise you that this will never
happen again. Henceforth, I promise to be fully active in
my duty as your husband and father of our kids. Please,
find it in your heart to forgive me,” he earnestly
implored, his eyes reflecting remorse.
To Kennedy, he believed I was merely upset about him
being away for long. But In reality, I was furious with
myself for allowing unfounded assumptions to lead me
into an affair with Daniel while he was away on a
business trip. Right now, it’s obvious he had my best
interest at heart and my foremost concern was figuring
out how to free myself from the mess I had unwittingly
fallen into. But will Daniel easily let go?
To be continued…
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