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I met Seun through my wife.

Light-skinned, petite, and pretty, she seemed to like my wife a lot, and my wife appeared to feel the same way. Both women shared quite a close bond.

She would come around the house now and then, but I never conversed with her beyond the usual hellos and hi’s.

One day, I realized she wasn’t visiting anymore.

“Baby, what’s up with you and Seun?” I asked my wife out of sheer curiosity, “I haven’t seen her around here in a while.”

“Oh! we’re good o,” my wife casually replied, patting her face with a powder foam, “She’s just busy, I guess.”

“I see.”

“Besides, she and her husband are almost going through a divorce—”

“You don’t say. What happened?”

My wife shrugged, snapped her powder close, and replaced it on the dressing mirror in front of her, “irreconcilable differences, coupled with the fact that the man has been making demands of a threesome—”


“I know right?” she nodded at me, “Their issues are really compiled.”

I felt sorry for Seun.

When I got to the office, I looked Seun up on WhatsApp. I had always had her number but never had a reason in my four years of marriage to Monica to contact her, and neither did she.

I found her, and I could not help but notice the pretty photo she set of herself on her profile – smiling dashingly as if she was not sinking in pain…as I assumed a woman in her situation would.

“I’m sorry about what you ‘may’ be going through, Monica told me… I hope you don’t mind.” I wrote to her. “It’s Michael,” I quickly added as an afterthought.

“I know,” she replied almost immediately, “It’s okay.”

“How are you coping?” I went on.

“Striving. Numb for the most part.”

The intercom on my desk rang, interrupting the reply my mind had begun to cook up.

I picked it up to my ear and listened as the secretary invited me to the meeting currently going on downstairs.

I agreed to be there and, in that haste, wrote to Seun, “Listen, I’m here if you ever need to talk.” And with that, I rose up from my chair and bounced out of the office.

She contacted me two nights after that day.

I was in bed with Monica, fast asleep beside me, when my WhatsApp chimed with a notification from her, “Awake?” she wrote.

“Yes,” I replied, “Perusing mails.” I watched her read my message without replying, then I followed up with a, “Are you okay?”

“No,” she replied.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Is it really okay to confide in you? I mean, I don’t want any trouble,” she worried.

“There will be none,” I assured her. “You’ve more or less been a friend of the family. So, feel free.”

“Is Monica there?”

“Yes. She’s asleep.”


“What’s the matter Seun? Exactly tonight, what’s keeping you up?”

“#sigh. We had a fight… because I won’t let him go anal” My eyes almost popped out of their socket. “I am honestly tired, Michael, I’m tired of this marriage, I’m tired of this pain.”

She went on to further enumerate her challenges in the marriage, pages upon pages she wrote, and I read every word, listening to her as time ticked away on the clock hung up against my bedroom wall.

When it was 2:30 am, we said goodnight and went offline.

The morning of the following day, as Monica and I got dressed in our bedroom to begin our day, I refrained from mentioning my conversation with Seun to her.

I thought of saying something, but not sure if it was necessary, I kissed her goodbye, drove our two boys to school then went to my office.

As soon as I sat down at my desk, I sent Seun a text just to check up on her. You see, despite how sad our subject of conversation was the night before, I liked talking to her. Her choice of words and methods of expression was exciting. What was more? I cared about her situation; after all, she was a friend of my wife.

She replied, stating that the atmosphere at her house was still tense. I gave her a few words of encouragement and settled down to work.

By evening, I found myself checking up on her again.

Those checkups continued, and our communication developed into a friendship.

By the clock of two weeks, Seun and I were steadily conversing, no longer just about her troubled marriage but about life in general. We talked about how our day was going, what she had for lunch, and what I had. Her favorite band, our fantasies, what her daughter did, what my sons did, most memorable sexual encounters…

It was exciting, a breath of fresh air from the mundane activities of my life.

Our closeness bred fondness and created sexual tension between us. As a matter of fact, we both expressed our attraction to each other from way back.

Part of me felt guilty, but the other reminded me that Seun no longer seemed to be friends with my wife. She did not come around the house anymore, and I did not meet up with her in person, so I was simply enjoying a harmless friendship, I told myself, and I must say that I really enjoyed talking to her.

By the fourth week, we finally agreed to a meeting in person.

We met up at an exclusive waterfront spot on Victoria Island. She came looking good and smelled nice. At first, we were both uneasy, but we had come too far to turn back. 

We talked, had a few drinks, and dared to share a kiss and then some more.

After a couple of sneaky make-out sessions, we agreed to get a room.

I paid, and staff escorted us into our fully-lit furnished room.

As soon as we were left alone, we went at each other – fully charged with desire. Our clothes flew off, and in no time, I had her nipple in my mouth. She cried with passion, and I groaned from wanting her for so long.

In minutes, my body became one with hers.

The experience was an anti-climax. Haven never considered myself a carrot; I understood at that moment why her husband had been insisting on going the other way.

After the act, I managed to meet up a few other times and have a couple of rounds before the whole relationship fizzled away for me. Her irrational needs put me off as she became excessively clingy and bold.

She would call my phone at odd hours of the day instead of chatting, which irritated me. Her boldness was daring; it was almost like she wanted us to get caught.

On Monday afternoon, she sent me an mp3 attachment of a song whose lyrics promised ‘forever.’ She said she was dedicating it to me. After listening to that song meant for two people in love and wanting to be together, I knew it was time for me to end things with her.

I called her up and calmly but firmly excused myself from the ‘relationship.’

To my surprise, she took it well.

I ended that call feeling very good about myself.

One Saturday afternoon, I was at home, watching the ESPN match in my living room, when my phone vibrated. I picked up the device, and to my surprise, it was Seun calling. We hadn’t spoken since that Monday afternoon. Matter-of-fact, I thought that we were done.

“Hi Michael, are you home?” she inquired upon my answering.

“No,” I lied, “I’m out of the country.”

“Okay,” she said and hung up.

Confused as to why she would ask that question at all, I refused to ponder on her possible reasons. Instead, I dropped my phone onto the sofa beside myself and resumed watching my match.

***30 Minutes Later***

The doorbell rang, and my wife came running down the stairs excitedly.

Her excitement was not directed at anything she wanted to share with me because she went straight for the door, pulled it open, and in walked Seun.

I almost shit my pants.

Dazzled, I watched as both women embraced themselves, giggling like teenagers.

They hugged each other repeatedly, chittering on about how much of a long time it had been. I stood on the sideline, watching this display of affection with my heart somersaulting behind my chest.

“Let’s go upstairs,” my wife invited her, “gosh! There’s so much to talk about.”

Giggly, Seun followed behind her. “Hi Michael,” she casually greeted as she passed by me.

I stared at her, unable to mutter any words of reply.

Oblivious, my wife nudged her onwards, “Come on, we have so much to catch up on!”

Both women disappeared upstairs, and I could no longer return my focus to the match playing on my screen.

I paced the floor, scared and curious. Part of me wanted to storm upstairs to the family lounge, which I presumed they would be in, eavesdrop on their conversation, or call out my wife just to distract her, but I did neither of those. Instead, my restless feet continued to pace the tiled floor.

The ESPN match I had waited all day to watch now seemed irrelevant as my heart pounded in my chest, and my palms sweated profusely.

I tried to sit down but could not stay seated, so I bolted to my feet again!

A sudden rush to piss overwhelmed me. I dashed to the visitor’s toilet, hurried out of my pants, let myself go, came out, and continued to pace. Subconsciously waiting for the moment when my wife would run down those steep stairs, flaring in anger and poking accusing fingers at me.

True to my thoughts, both women emerged at the top of the stairs.

I stopped dead in my tracks, ready to go down on my knees and apologize to my wife, whom I had wronged so greatly. There was no need to pretend to watch the match, so I stood rooted, ready to face the wrath of Monica. As I watched the women approach the foot of the stairs, I caught no angry stare on my wife’s face. No tears, only a satisfied smirk.

“Seun is leaving now,” she informed me as both women paused in front of me, “she stopped by just to catch up,” she explained as if reading my mind, “after been gone in like forever!” she concluded, nudging Seun’s shoulder playfully. Both women chuckled. “You better come back to visit o,” my wife warned her.

“Of course,” Seun agreed, “I would no longer stay away,” she declared, locking eyes with me.

My wife, oblivious to the situation, laughed carelessly. All I could do was swallow hard and thank my lucky stars that today was not the day I died.

“Bye Michael,” Seun waved and began making for the door.

My wife followed after her, pulled the wooden door open, stepped out, and shut the door behind them.

I collapsed onto the sofa.

Relieved, I dragged both hands down my face and exhaled deeply into my palms.


I wanted to call Seun.

I struggled with the idea, especially after she uploaded a photo of my wife on her Instastory. She captioned it “a friend for life.”

Why was she doing all this? I wondered to myself. What was her end game, and what in the hell had I gotten myself into?.

I knew she was expecting me to call her, to show fear, probably plead, be at her mercy, so I refrained from giving her that sheer satisfaction.

I sat back, but with my heart in my mouth, I watched on silently as she rekindled her friendship with Monica and once again became a regular visitor at our home.

Saturday, the 2nd day of March, is a day I wish life had skipped over. The world would have just rolled over to the 3rd of March or maybe even the 4th, never for us to experience that day. Perhaps that way, my heart wouldn’t have broken into a million pieces.

How could I let this happen? I kept asking myself as I sped home to Monica on that 2nd day of March, right after I got the message. How did I not see this happening? I continued to wonder. How did I think she would never do a thing like this? Why had I gotten so comfortable, so relaxed? What in the freaking hell!

I pulled up at my gate and honked continuously. The security man must have thought someone was pursuing me as he staggered in, pulling the gate open.

I sped through.

Ignoring his greeting, I pulled into the compound and pretty much raced to the front door.

Monica would be at home, I knew it, reading or doing anything else.

“Babe!” I yelled as I wheezed into the house.

“Daddy, daddy!” the boys called from the living room floor.

I ignored them and headed for the kitchen.

“Welcome, sir,” greeted the cook from the stove where he stood.

“Welcome,” seconded the housemaid, peeling some oranges at the counter.

“Where’s your madam?” I directed my question at the housemaid.

“She’s upstairs. In the study sir,” she quickly added as she sensed my impatience.

I made a quick about-turn, out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into our shared bedroom.

“Babe!” she startled in her chair as I barged into the study, her eyes widening at once.

“What is this?!” I demanded, holding my phone to her face with the message reflecting on the screen.

“What?!” she demanded back, eyes still shocked from having me barge in on her.

“Okay, no problem,” I retorted, retrieving the phone down to my face, “I’ll show you…”

I swiped the message upward to reveal its attachments, “There!” I held the phone back to her face.

She squinted her eyes, strained her neck forward, and then received the phone from my hand to have a closer look. There were photos, about four of them, all completely naked of my wife, taken right in our bed…

I watched her shoulders drop, and then she buried her face in her palms.

“You cheated on me, Monica?!” I stated, my heart pounding in my chest. Shock, hurt, and disbelief – I was feeling them all at once. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” I stated as a matter of fact, “You?” I pointed a finger accusingly at her buried head. “So all this time, while I trusted you, you were busy frolicking with someone else? Now he’s sending me photos and messages intended to expose you? What did you do, Monica?. Lift your face and look me in the eye while I’m talking to you!”

She shook her head in her palms, sounds of her sniffling escaping to my ears.

Angered, I took one stride closer and tried to disengage her face from her hands. She struggled to keep her face hidden. I overpowered her, and she ran out of the study, dashed into the bathroom, and bolted the door after herself.

“Open this door!” I demanded, banging fiercely at the locked door.

“I’m sorry—” she cried from within.

“Monica I said open this door!”

“I am so sorry,” she wept.

A wreck, that’s what I became.

24 hours had passed since confronting Monica, yet I still could not believe that she dared to have an affair under my roof. How could she do something that terrible to me, her husband?.

It hurt, more than anything had ever hurt me in my entire life. I was restless, and pained with a sudden spike in my blood pressure.

What was more? She chose one heck of a useless guy to indulge in the shameful act with as the stupid boy had been blackmailing her for millions of naira. He exposed her to me and a popular Nigerian blog when she wouldn’t give him any more money.

It was a scandal – the whole situation was.

While she was still under my roof, I could not bear to look at her. And she made it easier as she avoided me at every turn, hiding from my presence like Eve of the bible hid from her creator.

She reduced our communication to text messages, tons of them she sent, all rendering apologies,

“I was lonely,” she claimed, “You were distant, I had no one to talk to, to share with. I am so sorry I found solace in another man.”

Her family begged me to forgive her, my friends asked me to throw her out, and my conscience reminded me – as much as I hate to admit it, that I, too, was guilty – only unexposed.


As we faced the repercussions of her scandal, I no longer saw her in the same light.

I became untrusting, of course.

One evening when she left her phone to charge in the living room, I got hold of it. I opened her WhatsApp, intending to read through her chats – see what she was up to in general. An act I never found necessary in the past.

I found a chat between her and Seun, and for obvious reasons, I decided to read through it.

I scrolled all the way upward and sat down on it.

It was surprising to find out that my wife had begun her affair when things got ‘serious’ between Seun and me.

According to their chats, my wife complained about my distance in our marriage, informing Seun that she was lonely and sad, amongst other complaints. It was at that point that Seun pressured her to have an affair, stating that she too had found someone (obviously me from the timeline) who was keeping her company and making her happy.

She cheered Monica on throughout the pendency of her affair. Even now that the secret was out of the bag, she stayed encouraging.

I felt weak to my knees.

I sank down into the sofa and got immersed in deep thoughts. I evaluated the entire situation and concluded that Seun was not a good friend. While she was claiming to be a friend to my wife, she was willingly having an affair with me…and my wife, in turn, drew strength from her to keep her own affair going at the time.

What more was Seun capable of? I wondered. One thing was for sure; she was not a true friend, and I needed to inform Monica to let her know that Seun did not have her best interest at heart; before she did her own version of revelations, I needed to warn her and hopefully get Seun out of our lives for good.

The question now becomes, how do I let Monica know the truth about Seun without implicating myself?

She must not know that I slept with her best friend.



14 thoughts on “MY WIFE’S FRIEND.”

  1. Very convenient for Michael to heap all the blame on Seun.
    Michael is the main villain from my point of view. He set the ball rolling for all the other things that happened in the story.
    One thing I took away from this lovely write up is that we are very much responsible for our actions and the ripple effects they have.
    Lovely write up Kylie. You should write a book (if you haven’t written one already)

  2. Wowwwwwww!!!!I didn’t see it ending that way.👏👏👏👏👏

  3. What an extremely selfish and hypocritical man!
    What a beautiful story!
    Well done Kylie.
    You are really creative.

  4. The way you make your bed, so you would lie on it…

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