Her Awakening

Chapter 6: Sunday Service

Sunday mornings in my household were always a whirlwind. The twins, Markie and Melodie, were already up, their laughter ringing through the house as they dashed around the living room. Joshua stood at the ironing board, meticulously pressing our Sunday outfits while gospel music played softly in the background, setting the tone for the day.

In the bedroom, I was in front of the mirror, adjusting my wig and curling it into soft waves that framed my face just right. Makeup followed—a light foundation, a touch of blush, and a hint of gloss. I wanted to look good but not overdone, especially for church.

"Mel! We're going to be late!" Joshua's voice bellowed down the hallway. "The kids' clothes are ironed, and I've done yours too. Can you hurry up, please?"

"I'm almost ready!" I called back, biting down the irritation creeping into my tone. Just one more curl, and I was done. Earrings in, I stepped back to make sure everything was perfect before moving on to the twins. Their outfits were neatly laid out: a tiny suit for Markie and a floral dress for Melodie. I quickly dressed them, smoothing Markie's shirt and tying a bow in Melodie's hair.

Joshua, already dressed in a casual suit, ushered the kids out of the room, his impatience evident. "The car's packed. Let's go!"

"Just need to grab my heels!" I muttered, scrambling through the closet to find them. Nude pumps in hand, I slipped them on, grabbed my purse, and locked the door behind me as I hurried to the car.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I offered Joshua an apologetic smile. He glanced at the clock. "Cutting it close again," he said with a tight smile. I nodded silently, checking on the twins in the backseat. They were excited, chattering about seeing their grandparents at church.

We made it just in time. The church stood tall, its brick façade familiar and comforting. Inside, the choir's harmonious voices filled the air, and I felt a fleeting sense of peace as we took our seats. My parents were already there, my mother resplendent in her Ankara dress. She greeted the twins with hugs and gave me a knowing look as she embraced me.

The service was as uplifting as ever, with the pastor preaching about faith and forgiveness. But my mind wandered, as it often did these days. I glanced at Joshua, who seemed fully absorbed in the sermon, his hands resting on the back of the chair in front of him. He looked calm, at peace—a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside me.

After the service, we lingered, exchanging pleasantries with the congregation. Joshua joined a group of men near the entrance, laughing and chatting. Meanwhile, my mother beckoned me outside.

"Let's talk," she said, her tone gentle but insistent. We found a bench in the garden, shaded by an old oak tree.

"What's wrong, Afia?" she asked, using my native name, her voice low and filled with concern.

"Nothing, Mama," I said, forcing a smile.

She gave me a look only a mother could give—a mix of patience and piercing insight. "Don't lie to me. I know my child."

I hesitated, my chest tightening. How could I even begin to explain the gnawing feeling inside me? Finally, I admitted, "Joshua's been spending a lot of time with someone—a woman. He says they're just friends, but it's been bothering me."

Her face darkened slightly. "Is it that Emmadale girl? The one you told me just got out of prison?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Mama reached for my hand, her grip firm but comforting. "Afia, listen to me. Joshua is a good man and a great father, but you can't be naive. Men are easily led astray. You have to keep your family together. That's your job as a wife. Don't let any woman come between you and your husband, do you hear me?"

Her words landed heavily. They came from a place of love and experience, but they also felt like a weight pressing down on me. I nodded slowly, unsure if I truly believed them.

"Good," she said, patting my hand. "Remind him of what he has at home. You're a beautiful, smart woman. You're his wife. Don't let anyone take your place."

I swallowed hard, her advice echoing in my mind as we walked back inside.

The drive home was quiet. The twins dozed off in the backseat, and Joshua's focus was on the road. I stared out the window, replaying Mama's words over and over. I had been fighting for this marriage for weeks now, but to what end? How much longer could I keep fighting?

When we got home, Joshua announced he was heading to the gym after dropping off the kids inside. "I'll be back later tonight," he said casually, kissing me on the cheek before he left.

I didn't respond. Instead, I spent the afternoon with the twins, keeping myself busy. We had a movie night—snacks, homemade burgers, and fries. I laughed with them, trying to mask my own sadness. But as the hours ticked by and Joshua still hadn't come home, the ache in my chest deepened.

When I finally carried the sleeping twins to bed, I couldn't bring myself to lie in the marital bed alone. I tucked them in beside me, their warmth offering a small measure of comfort.

Early the next morning, I woke to the sound of the shower. Joshua was back. Checking the time, I saw it was just after six. Careful not to wake the kids, I got up and padded into the ensuite to pee. Through the glass shower door, I saw him—his back turned, with fresh scratches running down his skin.

I froze. The marks were undeniable. My chest tightened as tears welled up, blurring my vision. I slipped out of the bathroom before he could notice me, retreating to the children's bathroom instead. Splashing cold water on my face, I forced myself to swallow the sobs threatening to escape.

Mama's words echoed in my mind: Keep your family together. Don't let another woman take your husband.

But as I stared at my reflection, I couldn't help but wonder how much longer I could hold on.

———————-AUTHORS NOTE——————

Hey my Lovelies! what's Sunday like in your household? do you go to church? also what did we think of Melissa's mothers advice? let me knowwwwww!