I wish I never met my ex-wife

By Abimbola Abatta

Never in a million years would I have ever imagined that I would be single at 50 years old. It has been 20 years since I divorced my ex-wife, Jessica. And it was the best decision of my life because marrying her was the greatest mistake of my life. I have spent the last 20 years regretting that single mistake. We were only married for five years.

I was 25 when I got married to Jessica, who was 23 at the time. We were both in love with each other, the envy of the youths in our area in Ibadan, Oyo State. It was love at first sight. I was on 100 level while she was a pre-degree student when our paths crossed that year. By the time I was in my final year (500 level), she was also in 400 level of her 4-year course. And our love had grown stronger like an Iroko tree.

Our family already accepted us. Our parents had started planning our wedding, considering how much we loved eachother. In the first semester of my final year, Jessica got pregnant. Of course, I was the one who impregnated her, I thought then. Before we knew it, we were married. It was as if our parents had been waiting for that moment because when we told them, rather than rebuke or condemn us, it was jubilation galore.

For a background information, Jessica is the only child of her parents while I am from a family of five, which includes two boys and a girl. I am the second boy. My ex-wife’s parents had been on her neck to give them a child because they had her late. And they were eager to see their grandkids.

Six months after the wedding, and as luck would have it, Jessica gave birth to twins, two boys. Our joy knew no bounds. Our family was the happiest on earth. Three years after that, we had a beautiful baby girl. And we decided to put a full stop to child bearing.

We were already in the fourth year of the marriage. I felt like the happiest man on earth. I was 29, with three kids and a beautiful wife. I had a successful business. We were literally living a dream. We lacked nothing. As a couple, my wife and I barely quarrelled. Even the few times we did within those first four years, we reconciled before the day went down.

However, misfortune struck a few days to our fifth wedding anniversary. I decided to check my wife’s phone. To be honest, I never intended to check it. I had never had any reason to doubt her faithfulness before then. But I heard one of my twins asked her to put in her password so he could watch a cartoon on her phone. Afterwards, the child sat in the living room beside me to watch the animation where I was working on a spreadsheet on my laptop.

First, the fact that the child asked for his mother’s password piqued my interest. I had never locked my phone with a password. And I had always assumed she never locked hers. She had picked up my calls so many times. While we were dating, there’s no reason for putting passwords on our phones, too.

So, I trusted my intuition, and I asked the child to give me the phone. At this point, my wife was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. As I collected the phone, a notification popped up on the screen. And somehow, my fingers opened it before I could stop them short.

What I saw was horrible. I thought it was a dream, but it wasn’t. It was as real as my hands. It was a message from my elder brother. How did I know? His profile picture gave him away. The new message was short: “when will my children know me?” At first, it didn’t make sense. But as I scrolled up to check their previous chats, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit in.

To confirm what I had read, I did a paternity test on the three kids. Of course, I was subtle with it. I had a doctor friend who helped me out. I found a way to get my brother’s hair. The results came in on our anniversary day. When my friend called, a part of me really hoped it would be a figment of my imagination. But I was in for a shock. The children I thought I had fathered were not mine. They were my brother’s children.

I collected the results, made photocopies, and wrapped them up neatly. I called my lawyer, and he helped me prepare the divorce papers. When I got home, many of the guests who had come to celebrate our anniversary with us had arrived. I apologised for coming late. Of course, my brother, the traitor, was there.

Right in front of the guests, I gave the wrapped paternity tests to her. She unwrapped it, and of course, she was speechless. Tears trickled down her face. The guests thought they were tears of joy. But I had come in prepared. I had screenshots of the damning chats between the two monsters. I projected the images for all to see. I displayed the paternity results too on the projector. For those who might not understand, I told them my brother was the father of the three children. I dropped the divorce papers and told her my lawyer would communicate with her. She had just a week to vacate my house with the three bastards.

I did not wait for any explanation because nothing could ever justify such monstrosity. Apparently, they had been cheating on me, and I never knew. I was foolish to love someone so much only to have them pay me back with trauma. I have been in Australia since that incident. And I have not been able to trust another woman again. To me, once bitten, a million times shy. Never again will I be a slave to love. Never!