I have been married for 9years and after much attempts to have a child of our own, 5years into the marriage we had a boy. It didn’t come as easy as I have just put it; by the way I didn’t state I married an Igbo man who had an identical twin and I am a (lady.
That alone had come with loads of back and forth from the early preparation days of getting married to finally having a child. Some who have been in my shoes can relate better, I guess.
Inter-cultural marriage isn’t always one smooth ride.My husband’s twin was one man I always had high regard for, he was calm, ever willing to listen whenever my husband and the rest of the family came hard and blamed me for childlessness. Atimes I often wished I married him instead of my husband. That was how much effect he always had on me during those trying times.
All these while, my husband never had an issue with the closeness that existed between myself and his twin, infact he usually encourages him to come around and spend time with us; much to my delight considering he often gave comforting words whenever my husband chooses not to understand.
There were days in which we just hung out and just enjoyed being happy. He makes some moves that I sometimes find offensive but my husband smiles and says he is my twin.
On this certain day, my husband went to work. I was home seeing a movie when my bro-in-law offered me wine he got on his way to our place, out of excitement I popped, had few shots while we giggled and laughed as usual.
Few minutes later, I felt tipsy and tired, not too long I fell asleep. Waking up, I found myself in the bedroom naked, examined myself and realized there was a sexual intercourse. Sitting across me was my bro-in-law equally undressed smiling and said it was time for me to know the truth because he could no longer bear it and feels I deserve to know the truth. It was like the saddest and most disappointing moment in my life.
Before I could say a word, he told me all what happened. He told me it was his twin(my husband)’s idea to often switch places at nights. Apparently my husband had low sperm count according to his twin, as such could not father a child, that he often had sex with me at night while I thought it was my husband.
While he said all these, I started adding two plus two together and it became obvious he was saying the truth. My husband sometimes wear a red boxers to bed and when we wake up in the morning I will find a black boxers on the floor and red on him. A lot of things started running through my mind and it began to make sense.I broke down and couldn’t stand it.
Called my mother on the phone and told her I was finished. I couldn’t tell her what had happened and suicide became my next option. My husband had ruined me, he had made me worthless, life no longer means anything to me as I now see myself as a piece of sh*t.
Suicide was all I thought of, the two closest persons to me had passed me around like a used sex-toy. I have left my husband’s house and moved on with my son, whom I am not sure of whom the real father is. Trust nobody. Life is cruel. My story.
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