Hello, Davina diaries my name is Chizoba and this is my pathetic widowhood story. I hope you all can learn a thing or two.
I married an armed robber or rather I didn’t know when my husband ventured into armed robbery. My parents were devout Christians and brought us up strictly. I never wore trousers or permed my hair until I left home to attend my higher institution. My late husband was brought up in a more flexible atmosphere with his father frequently absent. He was stubborn and aggressive but charming as well.
We met at an event we were mutually invited to. He struck a conversation with me and noticed I was shy. He promised to bring me out of my shell; no one had ever told me that before. Well, this was how our unusual friendship started. Two opposites attracting each other. He introduced me to another world entirely.
Even though I had rebelled by perming my hair, my husband Ben, took it to another level. When I wasn’t in my official outfits, I was putting on skimpy tops and short skirts because he liked it. I became lost in him.
News reached my parents about what I had become but Ben was like a drug to me. I almost could not do anything without telling him. My parents tried to reason with me but I was head over heels. Soon I got pregnant and reluctantly our parents allowed us to wed.
It was after marriage I realized how little I knew Ben. He wasn’t mean to me or anything, but he had an air of mystery around him; sudden disappearances and funny phone calls at odd hours. I thought he was having an affair, it was later I found out it wasn’t so. I went on to have two lovely children.
At the time we got married, Ben was comfortable; we really didn’t lack any of the basics. My husband drank heavily, this I already knew but I also felt he took drugs as well. He appeared uncoordinated at times and his eyes were bloodshot. I had to ask him several times but he brushed my fears aside. It bothered me but I later just went with the flow after all he was providing for us.
As we approached six years in marriage our fortunes greatly changed. He bought me cars and moved us to a duplex in the rich part of town. I thought business just got better because he had started car sales. He even sent us on trips abroad. My family gave us some respect after seeing how prosperous we had become.
My good life came to an end when my husband was gunned down during a gun duel with police operatives at a night club.
Apparently, he worked with a drug and armed robbery syndicate. They had an operation and one of them felt cheated so he went to the police who in turn raided the club hideout. They tried to escape but some of them were shot. My husband didn’t survive his wounds.
They got in touch with me. After hours of questioning, they were convinced I knew nothing about the drug cartel and so let me go.
My widowhood experience
Life became very miserable as people distanced themselves from me because the news had gone far. My parents were surprisingly gentle with me and urged me to return to the house. I sold all I could sell and left town. I still live in my parents’ home now raising my children from there.
I’m not in any way in support of my late husband’s activities, but I loved him and still do. I miss him every day. Thank you.
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