A Second Chance

I messed up.

I got carried away with the light atmosphere at the dinner table and I messed up royally.

I flinched.

He wanted to caress my cheek as he usually does when we’re with other people, and I flinched. It would be fine if it was just a slight jerk of my cheek away from his fingers. 

No.

I flinched so hard that my wine glass shattered, and the little that was left of my liquid companion for the night found refuge on the floor. 

Everybody noticed my jerky movement. Folake’s eyes were widened. Her husband and that of all the table occupants were confused and concerned at the same time.

I look just in time to see Muyiwa grit his teeth. I know I’m going to suffer for this public stir I’ve caused when we get them.

“Are you okay?” Folake asked with concern.

I felt a hand grip my thigh hard, and I tried as much as possible to hold back my wince. That was my warning to behave as normal as possible. I smiled and nodded at Folake; I sent a reassuring smile to the rest of the table before excusing myself to the restroom.

We were at one of Muyiwa’s dinners. I would rather be at home watching the season finale of Real Housewives of Lagos, but here I am. I didn’t spend much time looking at myself in the mirror. I know what I’d see.

A broken woman who has given up but just can’t seem to pull the plug finally. I really don’t know why I’m still holding on, if you ask me. 

The door opened and Folake stepped in with what I’ve come to know as concern and confusion. “Babe, are you okay?”

I took a deep breath before facing her. Here goes another lie. “I’m fine, Folake. I just needed the restroom.”

She shook her head. “No, don’t do that. I know you know what I’m talking about.” When she saw that I wouldn’t bite, she sighed. “What was that flinch? Bims, is Muyiwa hitting you? If he is, you need to tell me now.”

What will you do? 

I shook my head. “No, he doesn’t.” I trust Folake, so why am I not telling her the truth? She’d believe me, right? She’s not my best friend, but she’s a friend. 

I remember what my mom said when I told her a year after my marriage.

"Ah, Bimbo. You want my enemies to laugh at me? After the whole alariwo wedding we did? Come to think of it, why would you accuse Muyiwa of such a thing? Is it not your face I’m looking at? There are no bruises or anything. You better focus on your marriage and stay there, oko won l’ode o. Manage the one you have.”

I remember what my bestie, Sophie, said when I told her. “Bimbo, I’d rather you cry in a G-wagon than be happy inside a keke. Besides, who will believe you? The man is a philanthropist, he’s currently running for chairman, and he comes from a long line of the movers and shakers of Lagos. Nobody will believe you. So, just hold your peace and keep praying that God changes him.”

Why would Folake say anything different? I can’t even trust her. Her husband is a close friend of Muyiwa. She and her husband are besties. If I tell Folake, she tells her husband, and her husband will tell Muyiwa all in the name of confirming. That'll be game over for me.

“I’m fine, Folake. I’m just in that phase, you know?”

She doesn’t believe me. I can see it, but I’ve not given her enough to work with; she’s giving up. “Yeah. I understand. Sometimes, I want Dele to stay 10 poles away from me too. Want to get back?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The drive home was deathly silent. You would hear my thoughts if you paid enough attention, and you won’t need to because the silence was on its highest volume. You would also be able to hear Muyiwa’s thoughts, which would contain new ways to make me suffer, no doubt. Should I just jump out of the car? I can’t try that move again; I've been there and done that. 

We walked into my prison without him throwing me as much as a glance. We took the stairs to his room that I share with him, and he still didn’t say anything. I watched him start to undress like a cornered antelope would watch her predator from across the room.

I didn’t dare breath or make a sound. I was waiting for what I knew was coming. The only problem? I didn’t know in which form it would come. He started rolling his sleeves when he broke the silence.

“What was that at dinner today?”

He was calm while asking; that’s not a good sign. It has never been a good sign. 

“I’m talking to you, Bimbo. What was that at dinner tonight?” He wasn’t shouting yet, but he said it emphatically. 

“I wasn’t really feeling well today. I told you before we left,” I said, looking down at my feet.

Before I knew it, he had crossed the room to me and wrapped his hand around my throat to look at him. “Look at me when you’re talking to me!”

Now he’s shouting. It’s done.

He wrapped his hand tighter around my throat. I remember when I used to think it was just a kink of his and I used to enjoy it, until I found out the hard way. “What was that at the dinner table?”

“Stand up for yourself, Bims.” That voice has always rung in my head. 

“Don’t be such a wuss. If you’re going to die, at least do it while standing up for yourself,” it would say.

“Talk back at him. Your mom didn’t raise a spineless woman.”

Except that Muyiwa, my mum, Sophie, and every single person who worships the ground Muyiwa works on, ripped out that spine. 

I looked back at him in the eye. The orbs I used to call dreamy to Sophie now looked like a lifeless dungeon where everything dies. “I told you earlier before we left Muyiwa. I wasn’t feeling well,” I clapped back with the little bit of defiance I had left in me.

His grip loosened around my neck slightly, and he scoffed, “Wow. Little One is finally getting some bravery.” He took a step back, and for some silly reasons I really thought that was it. Until I felt the sting of his backhand on my cheek, its force sent me to the floor. 

“You think you can talk back now, right? Folake has given you some dose of courage after you told her why exactly you flinched when your husband wanted to touch you, right?!” He was shouting as he came closer to me.

“No no, Muyiwa. I swear I didn’t tell her anything. A..at dinner, I was just in my head a bit; I didn’t see your hand coming.” Just like that, I was back to being a meek sheep. “I’m so sorry, Muyiwa. I swear I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

He never touched my face. He thought my face was very pretty and didn’t deserve the punishment of my insurbodination. My body? My thighs? Those were his canvases, to do as he pleased.

“Did you know what the night was for? Chief Ibrahim is one of the biggest spenders of the party. Unfortunately, he doesn’t like me and believes I’m not worthy to be the chairman."

“He’s wrong, Muyiwa. You were born—"

“You don’t talk when I’m talking to you!” He cut my last attempt at personal salvation with a shout. “I was supposed to win him over tonight. You,” he bent down to point his finger at my face, “were supposed to help me win him over. Show him that I’m a loving husband and I’m just the right fit for the LG. But what did you do? You caused an entire mess.”

“No. Muyiwa. I didn’t mean to; I swear I just wasn’t feeling very well.” 

He started unbuckling his belt. He approached, and I crawled back in fear. “You’re about to feel very unwell."

Muyiwa is an animal with his belts. Funny how most of the belts he uses on me are the same ones I got him in his Valentine’s gift boxes, birthday presents, “From Bimbo to Muyiwa” feel-good gifts, and so much more. I can’t believe there was a time I didn’t look at Muyiwa with fear and terror. 

“Muyiwa. I’m sorry. I swear it won’t happen again. I’ll personally talk to Chief Ibrahim; I’ll convince—“

I didn’t even finish the statement before his angel of punishment struck, and he took his time. Oh, he took his sweet time. I ran from the room with blood all over my face and cuts on my body, but I knew better than to run to the front door; I'd been there and done that. He always caught me there, and it always got worse.

I ran to the kitchen instead. I tried to use the key; it wouldn’t move. I really didn’t know much about the security features on the doors of my dungeon of 3 years because I’ve never really paid attention. It had come to bite me in the @ss.

“Abimbola!” 

I heard his footfalls on the stairs. If the keys weren’t budging, there was no way I could risk going to the front door now. One of the ways to get Muyiwa angry while “punishing” me was running from the punishment. I was in even bigger trouble by running, and now there were only two options. Either I face my fears or I die tonight. 

I grabbed a knife just at the same time he appeared by the door. 

“What have I said about running from me when I’m punishing you, Little One?” He calmly spoke as he approached me slowly.

“Don’t come closer, Muyiwa,” I said, brandishing my weapon with trembling hand.

His eyes came to the knife in my hand; I swear an evil glint of amusement flashed through his eyes. He slowly raised a brow. “And what exactly do you want to do with that? Stab me? ”. He let out a humorless chuckle as he began stepping towards.

He moved forward, I stepped back, and I was the one with the knife. “Stab him, Bims!” That voice kept shouting at me, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Maybe Muyiwa even knows that, and that’s why he took the knife away from me like you take a crayon from a child.

He was in my space. “It’s been 3 years of your constant abuse, Bims. You’ve never told anyone, never tried to run—and I know you had plenty of chances—never reported me, never done anything about it. You’ve lost the spine to do anything. You cook my food every day; you could’ve poisoned me, but you never did. What makes you think I’ll be scared of the knife you’re holding? You’re too scared and weak,” he finished with a mocking smile.

I hated myself with every single proof of my weakness that came out of his mouth. I wasn’t this weak woman who couldn’t stand for herself. What Muyiwa doesn’t know is I’ve tried every single thing he thinks I haven’t done. 

Never told anyone? I told Mum and Sophie. Never tried to run? Oh, I have. Guess who talked me out of it? Sophie. Never reported him? I tried that too. The stations didn’t just take my report into record. Why? My face didn’t look abused, and Muyiwa Jacobs was too much of a societal saint to lay hands on a woman.

Tiny bits and pieces of a person’s strength will start to disappear when the people who are supposed to remind you that you’re special, tell you that you don’t deserve the pain you’re going through, and tell you that you need to run are the ones who keep reminding you that “Bimbo nobody will believe you." “It’s your word against his." “It’s Muyiwa Jacobs o, no try am o”

My mother failed me.

My husband failed me.

My best friend failed me.

The system failed me.

Sadly, I failed myself more.

“You’ve never done anything, and I know you’re not going to do anything tonight.” His eyes flitted through all the wounds on my face, and something akin to pity and regret clouded his face, but it disappeared quickly as it came. “I never touch your pretty face. I’m sorry that I lost control.” He gave me a lingering peck on the cheek before walking out of the kitchen.

I cried silently against the counter. I mourned the happy, very in-loved woman that I was 4 years ago. Every day I looked at myself in the mirror, I always found pieces of my essence crumbling away. I have lost 4 pregnancies in the 3 years of abuse that I’ve endured as a Jacobs. There wasn’t really anything here for me anymore. 

While I know I could run and start over, I don’t think I have the will. What I really want is to punish Muyiwa and make his life h£ll with all the hate I have in me. It isn’t just enough. 

My hate has bubbled down to weakness. It just isn’t enough, I thought as I picked up my supposed defense weapon from where Muyiwa flung it and ran it across both my wrists. I watched life pool around me in red, and I felt a semblance of peace. I smirked at the thought of what Muyiwa’s face would look like when he finds me like this before my eyes closed.

I woke up with a gasp. I wasn’t in the kitchen. Instead, I was on the rug in a dimly lit room. I didn’t recognize this room. “Where am I?” I asked the darkness surrounding me.

I looked at my wrist, expecting to see two raw bloody lines from the wound I inflicted on myself. But I couldn’t find anything. There was no blood. What’s going on? I stood up from the floor before I realized I wasn’t in the bloodied gown I wore to Chief Ibrahim’s dinner. I was in nightwear. A quick glance at my ring finger made me realize it was missing.

“What the h£ll is happening?” I mused while getting up from the floor. I switched on the light of the room to properly assess where I was. My old room. I was in my room at my parent’s house. How in the world did I get here?

Was this a dream? Am I lost in my head? Am I not dead? Don’t tell me I even failed in ending it. That would only mean that I’m a failure through and through. Before I could wrap my head around the situation more, there was a knock.

I ran to take cover at the side of my bed. Who could it be? “Yes. Come in.”

The door opened. What? Hope, our househelp? Hope left our house after I got married. Why am I back here, and why is Hope here? 

“Aunty Bims, Mummy said I should tell you to get ready fast. The Jacobs will soon be here.”

The Jacobs? Oh my God. What year are we? “Hope, what’s today’s date?”

She looked at me like I was insane. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes. Just tell me what date today is.”

“Okay. Today’s March 24.”

“Hope, what year?!”

She was startled at the way I raised my voice. “2021.”

I remember this day. It was the day I met Muyiwa on the matchmaking breakfast Mummy arranged for us. But why am I back here? What is going on?

“Aunty Bims, is everything okay?”

“Yes, thanks. I’ll be down soon.” Hope nodded and left. A phone vibrated on the nightstand. On grabbing it, I saw that it was my phone, the one I had in 2021. The lock screen had my picture. I remember the picture was taken way before I married Muyiwa. There was a text message from Sophie. 

Sophie: Don’t forget to give me all the details about the yummy husband after breakfast. Okay?

I remember this text. I remember smiling so hard at this text because I was really looking forward to meeting Muyiwa. I remember I wore a dress Mummy had picked because "Muyiwa's best color is green, and he loves women in green.” I still don’t think I understand what is going on because I was suddenly zapped from death and placed here. But if it is what I think is happening, Mummy will open my door in 3, 2...

My door suddenly opened, and I knew what she was about to say. “Bimbo, oo ti mura ni? You’ve not dressed up, and we’re expecting visitors. Your husband’s family will be here soon. In fact, I have the best dress for you. Muyiwa’s best color is green, and he loves women in green.”

She said all of that while brandishing a green dress. Everything is happening the way it did 4 years ago before I met Muyiwa. I need an explanation before I go lose my mind.

“Are you just going to stand there looking like an idol from your father’s village? Go and have your bath jare!” She walked out of my room.

I sat down on my bed with a sigh. Was I reincarnated? Did I wake up from the dead? I died, I’m sure of that. Is this what happens when people die? They go back to a previous part of their lives and just live again?

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I paid it no mind at first, until it buzzed again and again. Curious, I grabbed my phone to find 3 messages from an unknown number.

Unknown: Your dying thought was how you wish you could punish Muyiwa but you felt you were too weak.

Unknown: You’re back to where it all started. Here’s your redo.

Unknown: Make him pay.

Wait, what? A redo? A redo at life to make Muyiwa pay? Was this God? But the Bible says, “After death is judgement." No judgement for me? Whose idea was this? Jesus?

Whoever the idea was, I was grateful. I will gladly redo every single mistake I made from the beginning of my journey with Muyiwa, starting with this godforsaken green dress. I remember hating it then, and I still hate it now. I know just what to wear to p!ss my dear husband-to-be, off.

With a smirk on my face, I sauntered off to the bathroom like I really didn’t kill myself in the future, and I’m luckily and suddenly back in the past. I picked a very scandalous red gown from my wardrobe, the one that the world will come to popularly name ashawo gown, and put it on.

Three things I know for certain: I know how my journey ended, I know every mistake I made that led me there, and judging from everything that has happened in the few minutes back here, I can easily make the same mistakes and end right where I ended before.

Looking at my exposed cleavage, midriff, and back in the mirror, I realized I have the upper hand now.

And, Muyiwa Jacobs is oh-so going to pay.