She is gazing abstractly at nothing while pushing in closer to her husband who is next to her on the couch in their living room. Her every inch closer to him is answered by him moving three inches away. This little dance is discreet and is unnoticed by the three suited men who are sitting across from them.

The husband jumps up. “Give us a minute please.” He says and leads his wife into the kitchen. He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, taking a deep breath.

“Lolade, but you know how important this meeting is to me.” He doesn’t look at her as he speaks. “The least you can do is participate in the conversation. The board has to be satisfied with my family before they can make me partner.”  He looks directly at her. “Have I asked you any other thing?”

She moves closer to him and he looks away. “Bami, don’t blame me. This is the closest I’ve been to you in eight weeks!”

She is now standing a few inches in front of him. She reaches to touch his hand but he pulls away. “Bami. You’re so distant. Bami, please look at me.”

The husband stares intently at the ceiling; the only sign of his agitation is the clenching of his jaw. He doesn’t reply her.

She reaches to her back and deftly unzips her dress. The soft material drops to her feet. She steps out of the puddle of clothing and pushes against her husband. She rests her head against his chest.

His sharp intake of air lifts her head and they stare at each other intently for a few moments. Then he looks away again.  “Bami. You said you’d forgiven me.” A lone tear trails down her cheek. “Bami. I’m sorry. I’ll always be.”

She lowers her head again and wraps her arms around his back. “Bami, do you really not love me anymore? Bami? Bami, I’m sorry. I did it to get your attention. It was a stupid thing to do. He meant nothing. Bami, forgive me.”

“What do you want from me?” He says eventually in a gravelly voice thick with emotion.

She presses into him then lifts her hands to his neck and stretches up for a kiss. She feverishly presses her lips against his. When there is no response from him, she lets out a loud sob. He suddenly yanks her hands from around him and puts her away. He runs a hand across his brows, breathing heavily.

She pulls into herself and lowers herself to the tiled floor. Pulling her knees to her chest in nothing but her matching underwear, her chest heaves with sobs. They remain this way for a while.

“Lolade. Please dress up. They’re waiting.”

She cries harder. He picks the dress and walks over to her. Squatting, he pulls her to himself in a hug. She hangs on tightly as if drowning. They stay this way, her tears soaking his shirt.

“It’s ok. I swear.” He says, breaking the silence. He pushes her hair away from her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. He pulls her up and hands her the dress. He nods at her, smiling. She smiles back tentatively. He nods again, cupping her cheek with a palm. “Wear. Then get the glasses, I’ll get the juice,”


Hello earthlings. Greetings from Pluto. So, that’s the story for today. How easy is it really? To forgive someone you ‘love’ of some very hurtful act? I hear it’s harder to let go of such issues when it’s someone you’ve given your all to. What do you think?


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