WICKED Mother ST@BBED Her Husband in Front of Their CHILDREN #africantale #tales – Ty

Sandra was looking for something. She was looking for love. Not just any love, but the kind that made her heart beat fast and her head feel dizzy. Sandra had three boyfriends before she met the one she thought was perfect. The first boy she dated was Tund. Tundday was a gentle soul. He was always kind.

Every morning, he sent Sandra a message. Good morning, my sunshine. Every night he called her to say, “Sleep well, my star.” When they walked together, he opened doors for her. He bought her gifts, small ones, but from his heart. He never looked at other girls. But Sandra wasn’t satisfied. One day told her friend, “Tundday is too loyal, too soft.

He never gives me reason to cry or feel jealous. How will I know he’s a real man if he doesn’t cheat once in a while? Love is not supposed to be this quiet. Her friend’s eyes grew big. But Sandra, he loves you. Yes, Sandra said, “But love is not just sweet words. Love should come with pain sometimes. That’s how you know it’s deep.

” So she left Tundi just like that. Then she met Musa. Musa was soft-spoken. His voice was like a quiet song. He didn’t raise his voice, not even once. When Sandra was upset, he listened. When she cried, he wiped her tears. He liked to talk about dreams and the future. But still, Sandra wasn’t okay with his ways.

One night, Sandra laughed with her friends. Musa is not a man, she said. He can’t even raise his voice. He should shout once or even slap me small, make me cry and beg him. Then I will feel something. But this one always saying sorry like parrot. I don’t feel anything her friend asked. But he respects you.

Isn’t that enough? Sandra shook her head. Respect is good, but where is the passion? Where is the fire? Love should shake your chest, not massage it. And so she left Musa too. The third one was Ibuka. Ibuka was the gentlest of them all. He carried her bag when they went to the market. He helped her cook. When she made a mistake, he said, “It’s okay, my dear.

” Even when Sandra shouted, Ibuka smiled and said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” But Sandra, she wasn’t still happy. One day she told her friend, “This one cannot even slap me or send me away and call me back crying. How will I feel like a real woman in love if he doesn’t know how to break my heart and fix it again? A man should be strong, not always soft.

” Her friend looked at her with worry. “Sandra, are you sure that is love?” “Yes,” Sandra said. A woman must suffer small to enjoy big. So she left Ibuka too. One by one she pushed them away. Tundi, Musa, Ibuka, all good boys, all kind hearts, all trying to love her, right? But Sandra wanted something else. And then she met Mark.

And that is where the real story began. Mark, tall like an Ioko tree, shoulders wide like a hunter’s drum. His eyes didn’t laugh. They burned like fire waiting to jump. His voice was deep. And when he spoke, even silence listened. He didn’t call her every night. He didn’t send sweet messages. He didn’t beg. He didn’t chase.

In fact, on the first day they met, Sandra said, “Good afternoon.” Mark just nodded and walked away. Her heart jumped. The next day he came to her shop. He dropped one nylon full of fruit and said, “You’re too beautiful to buy bananas by yourself.” Then he walked out before she could reply. Sandra stood still, her hands cold.

Her stomach danced. Days passed. Mark came and went like thunder. Some days he made her laugh with jokes. Other days he sat quiet and watched her. No begging, no kneeling, no sorry, just presence, power. Then one evening when she tried to argue about something small, Mark looked her stray in the eye and said, “Lower your voice, Sandra.

” That voice did not shout, but it carried weight. It pressed her chest and inside something sparked. She went home that night and whispered to herself, “Yes, this is love.” At last, she had found the one that made her feel small, the one that didn’t smile too much, the one that didn’t beg. The one that made her heart beat like drum during war.

Every morning, Mark came with a gift. One day it was a basket of ripe mangoes. Another day it was rappers with colors that danced like fire. Then came the gold earrings, the bracelet that sparkled like early morning dew. He dropped them all without noise and said, “You deserve more.

” He called her my queen, my light, the woman who made my heart wake up. Sandra blushed like a shy bride. Her smile became brighter. Her walk changed. Her laughter returned like dry season rain. At night, Mark cooked soup. Hot, thick, sweet. He said, “Sit down. Let me serve you.” He wiped her mouth. He rubbed her feet.

He called her beautiful until she started to believe it. They would laugh till midnight. Sometimes they dance in the sitting room barefoot. Sometimes he sang small songs into her ear. People in town began to whisper. Sandra has found love. Mark is treating her like a queen. This one is different. And truly, it looked like a fairy tale.

But inside that fairy tale, something dark was hiding. But love like this, they don’t always end well. One quiet evening, the moon was soft in the sky. Sandra was in Mark’s room smiling at her phone. Then, ring ring. Her phone buzzed again. Mark looked up from where he was sitting. “Who is that?” he asked.

His voice was calm but cold. Sandra, still smiling, said. “Jazz a friend.” But Mark’s face changed, his brows folded like squeezed cloth. “A man,” he asked. Sandra looked at him. It doesn’t matter. We’re just talking. That’s when the thunder came. Don’t play with me, he shouted. And before she could blink, his hand landed on her cheek. P.

Her head turned with the slap. The room shook. Even the air froze. But Sandra didn’t cry. She held her face, breathed deep, and slap. She gave it back. They stood facing each other, eyes hot, hearts louder than drums. Then voices came from outside. Open this door. Are you people fighting again? Neighbors rushed in. They held Mark back. They held Sandra.

She picked her bag. Her face was red. Her heart was boiling. She walked out that night. Her steps loud like marching feet. But the sun had not even set the next day. Sandra was back at his door, her eyes soft, her lips quiet, her bag in hand. “I love him,” she whispered. “I can’t live without him.

” And just like that, she stepped back into the fire again. After that night, something in Mark grew bigger and darker. He no longer waited for Sandra to come home. He came to her work. every day standing by the door like a shadow. He didn’t talk much. He just watched like a lion watching a goat. If a man came too close, even to ask for water, Mark’s eyes would turn red.

“Why did you smile at him?” he’d ask. “I was just being polite,” Sandra would say. But Mark never believed. Sometimes when they were alone, he would grip her wrist too hard. Look at me when I talk to you, he’d say. Other times he would shout until the wall shook. And sometimes he hit her. One afternoon, Sandra came to work with a scarf around her neck and sleeves down to her fingers, but the scarf could not hide the pain in her eyes.

Her friends noticed the marks. “What happened to your arm?” Amaka asked. Another friend whispered. “Did he beat you again?” Sandra smiled. A weak, small smile. “No, it’s nothing,” she said. “He was just correcting me. He loves me. He’s not like that all the time.” They looked at her. She looked away. But deep inside her, something was breaking like glass under bare feet.

Still, she stayed because in her mind, love must come with pain. Then one night it happened again. Sandra was inside Mark’s house. The fight started over something small. A smile, a message, a word. It was because she laughed on the phone. Who are you laughing with? Why are you laughing when I’m angry? Mark groaned.

Before she could answer, his fist hit her shoulder. She screamed. Mark shouted. She shouted back. Then the wolves began to hear the sounds again. The same sounds, blows, cries, footsteps. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the door. “Get out!” he roared. Before she could speak, he pushed her out like old broom.

The night was cold, the street was quiet, her feet were bare, her wrapper was falling, her face was wet, not from rain, but from tears. She walked one leg after another like a bird with broken wings. Then she stopped in front of a small blue gate. She knocked softly. Once, twice, no answer. Then again, three knocks. The door opened slowly.

It was Amaka. When she saw Sandra, her mouth opened, but no words came. Her eyes filled fast. Sandra’s lip was cut. Her eye was swollen. Her shoulder looked red. “Come inside,” Amaka whispered, holding her like a mother holds a sick child. “Inside the house, under the yellow bulb,” Amaka cried. “You will die there,” she said.

“Is that what you want? To die in the name of love?” Sandra said nothing. She just sat and cried. All night she cried until the tears turned silent. Morning came slowly like an old woman climbing a hill. The sun peaked through the window, touching Sandra’s swollen face. Her eyes were red, her lips dry. She had cried till her chest felt empty.

Amaka sat beside her, wiping her tears like a big sister. “You need to eat something,” she said gently. Sandra shook her head. “I can’t swallow. My heart is bitter.” Soon two other friends came, Ungoi and Chinello. They carried food, hot yam, palm oil, and soft bread. When they saw Sandra, their hands flew to their mouths.

Sandra Goi said, “He did this to you.” Chinelloo sat beside her and touched her hand. “You can’t go back there. You hear me? You will not survive it next time.” They all sat with her. No one joked. No one smiled. Then Sandra spoke slowly, her voice thin like paper. I’m tired, she said. I can’t go back. I won’t go back.

Even if he begs, even if he kneels, I won’t follow him again. Tears rolled again, but her voice stood tall. Her friends hugged her tight like a broken pot they did not want to lose. They smiled for the first time. “Thank you,” Amaka whispered. We’ve been waiting to hear you say this. And for a moment, it felt like the sky had cleared, but the storm was not done yet.

That evening, the house was calm. The friends made tea and told small jokes just to make Sandra smile. She smiled a little, ate a little, even bathed and changed her rapper. Then night came, and they all slept. But when morning came, Sandra’s mat was empty. Her clothes were gone. Her bag gone.

Even her slippers by the door gone. “Sandra,” Amaka called. No answer. She checked the toilet, checked the back of the house, nothing. She grabbed her phone and dialed once, twice, 10 times. Still nothing. Nongi and Chinello rushed over. What do you mean? She’s gone,” they asked. They all looked at each other. Then, without a word, they left the house.

Their legs carried them straight to the one place they feared, Mark’s compound, and there by the gate stood Sandra. She was sweeping quietly like nothing had happened. Her face looked plain. No tears, no smile, just empty. her eyes. They looked far away like someone who got lost inside herself. “Sandra!” Amaka shouted.

Sandra looked up but didn’t say anything. “What are you doing here?” Anggoi asked. “You said you were done.” Sandra looked down and said, “I just I just wanted peace. I love Mark. I can’t live without him.” But there was no peace in her voice, only silence and sorrow. Because while all this was happening, Sandra was just a girlfriend, not yet a wife in Mark’s house.

Time passed like breeze that forgets to stop. One day, Mark wore a clean white shirt. He came with elders. He came with drinks. He came with yam, cola, goat, and wine. They knocked on Sandra’s family door. “We have come to marry your daughter,” they said. And so the wedding happened. There was music. There was Jolof Rice. People danced. Some smiled.

Others watched quietly. She finally married him, they whispered. “Maybe he will change now.” But Mark did not change. Months later, Sandra gave birth to a baby girl. Small, software, beautiful. They named her Elizabeth. Her eyes looked like stars. Her laugh sounded like a bell. Sandra smiled again. She kissed Elizabeth’s feet.

She sang lullabies. Her heart for a while felt full. But Mark’s voice got louder. His anger grew hotter. He shouted over food. He shouted over salt. He shouted when Elizabeth cried at night. He slammed doors. He broke plates. Sometimes Sandra would hold the baby tight and sit in the corner until morning. Her friends stopped visiting.

The neighbor stopped knocking. Yet Sandra stayed. She looked at her baby and said, “This is love. Love is not easy.” She believed her pain was proof. She believed staying made her strong. But inside the walls, trouble was still growing. Then one afternoon something happened. The sky was bright. The air was sweet.

Sandra hummed as she walked through the market basket in hand. Her birthday was coming soon and she wanted to cook something special. She bought fresh peppers, ripe plantains, goat meat, and soft yam. “Let me surprise him,” she said. She smiled. Even the traitor smiled with her. She got home early. The house was quiet. Elizabeth was with her aunt, so Sandra tiptoed in, her heart dancing like drum beats.

She opened the kitchen door, dropped the basket, and walked to the bedroom. But the moment she opened that door, her breath stopped. Her eyes stretched wide. Her heart froze. Mark was on the bed with another woman. their bodies close, their laughter low. The room spun. Sandra’s ears rang like bells. Her legs shook like dry leaves in wind.

The woman on the bed didn’t see her yet. But Mark looked up. Their eyes met. And in that one second, all the bruises, all the pain, all the tears Sandra had swallowed, everything boiled. She turned around and headed for the kitchen. She entered the kitchen. She opened the drawer. She grabbed the biggest knife. The metal felt cold in her hand, but her body was hot, too hot, like fire that had waited too long to burn.

She stormed back into the room. The woman on the bed sat up, confused, scared. Mark stood halfway. “Sandra, wait,” he said. But Sandra had no more words, only rage. She raised the knife. One, blood. Two, more blood. Three, four, five. The bed turned red. Mark shouted. The woman screamed, but Sandra’s hand didn’t stop.

At the door, little Elizabeth stood, her tiny hands holding the frame, her big eyes wide with fear. “Mommy,” she said. But Sandra didn’t hear. She stabbed again and again until the man she once loved stopped moving. The room was silent. Only Elizabeth’s breathing could be heard. And then a voice screamed from the bed.

Then the woman on the bed screamed. Her voice cracked like broken glass. Tears poured from her eyes. Stop. It’s me, Ada. Sandra froze. The knife slipped from her hand and dropped to the floor. Clang. Her heart stopped. She turned slowly. Adise, her own sister. Same blood, same womb, same childhood. Adise’s face was soaked with tears.

I came to plan your birthday surprise. She cried. Mark wanted it to be special. He told me not to tell you. We were decorating the room. You came back too early. Sandra’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her legs shook, her hands trembled like dry leaves in strong wind. Elizabeth stood at the door, still watching, her small body frozen, her eyes full of something that no child should ever carry.

Mark lay on the bed, not moving, his chest rising slowly, blood everywhere, his lips whispering something nobody could hear. They rushed him to the hospital. Doctors ran. Nurses shouted. Machines beeped. Clothes were soaked. Hands pressed his chest. Tubes entered his nose. But by nightfall, it was over. Mark was dead. Just like that.

A man that brought gifts, a man that shouted, a man that laughed, a man that hurt, gone. And Sandra sat in the waiting room, her hands still shaking, her heart broken open. The police came, big men in black. They put chains on Sandra’s hands like a goat going to the market. She didn’t fight. She didn’t speak. She just walked with them.

Like a shadow that had lost its body. In court, the judge looked at her and said, “You took a life. Now yours will stay behind bars. Life in jail. The gavvel hit. Bam. It was done. Elizabeth was taken to live with her uncle in another town. She held her doll and looked back one last time. “Mommy,” she whispered.

Sandra watched from the police van. Tears rolled. Not loud ones, just quiet, slow, heavy. In prison, she sat alone. Every day she looked at the wall. Every night she closed her eyes and saw three faces. Mark laughing with her under mango trees. Adai crying on that bloody bed. And Elizabeth standing at the door watching her mother break into pieces. Sometimes she wept.

Sometimes she rocked herself like a baby. Outside in Abia town, people told the story. They sat in front of shops and shook their heads. She loved him too much, one would say. But love without peace, another would add. It will burn everything. Everything. And just like that, Sandra’s name became a warning, a song without music, a tale told in whispers. I hope you enjoyed the story.

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The Shocking Birthday Surprise That Turned Into A Bloody Nightmare For Sandra And Her Family

Article: Di matter of love na something where dey deep, something where fit make person lose dem head if dem no look ground well. Many people dey find love where quiet, love where go give dem peace of mind, love where be like cold water inside hot afternoon. But for Sandra, her own thinking about love dey completely different. She no want quiet love. She believe say if love never give you reason to cry, if e never shake your chest like thunder, then that love na fake. This na di tragic story of Sandra, a young woman where look for fire, find di fire, and inside that same fire, she burn her life, her husband life, and di future of her small pikin to ash.

Before Sandra met di man where finally destroy her destiny, she had three different boyfriends who were ready to carry her for head like diamond. Di first boy na Tunde. Tunde na pure gentle soul, person where soft like bread. Every single morning, Tunde go send message: “Good morning my sunshine.” For night, before he sleep, he go call Sandra say, “Sleep well my star.” If dem dey walk for road, Tunde go open door for her, buy small small gifts from di bottom of him heart, and he no dey look another girl at all. But Sandra dey bored. She look Tunde say this one too soft. One day, she tell her friend say, “Tunde too loyal, he too soft. He never give me reason to cry or feel jealous. How I go know say he na real man if he no dey cheat once in a while? Love no suppose dey quiet like this.” Her friend eye open wide, she ask Sandra say, “But he love you now?” Sandra shook her head, “Yes, but love na not just sweet words. Love suppose come with pain sometimes, na so you go know say e deep.” And just like that, she pack Tunde throway.

After Tunde, she met Musa. Musa voice na like quiet song where dey sweet to hear. He no dey raise voice, even when Sandra dey vex and dey shout, Musa go just sit down dey listen. If Sandra cry, Musa go wipe her tears, and he like to talk about dreams and future. But still, Sandra no dey happy. One night, she follow her friends dey laugh Musa. She say, “Musa na wrapper, he no be man at all. He can’t even raise his voice. He suppose shout once in a while, or even slap me small make I cry and beg him, then I go feel something. This one just dey say sorry like parrot, I no dey feel any passion.” Her friend ask her, “But he dey respect you, that one no enough?” Sandra say, “Respect good, but where di passion dey? Where di fire dey? Love suppose shake your chest, e no suppose massage am.” So, she left Musa too.

Di third boy na Ibuka, and na him soft pass all of dem. Ibuka go carry Sandra bag if dem go market, he go follow her cook for kitchen. If Sandra make mistake, Ibuka go say, “E ok my dear.” Even if Sandra shout, Ibuka go just smile say, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Sandra look Ibuka, she tire. She tell her friend again, “This one cannot even slap me or send me away and call me back crying. How I go feel like real woman in love if he no know how to break my heart and fix am again? Man suppose strong, he no suppose soft like water.” Her friend look her with fear, “Sandra, you sure say this one na love?” Sandra reply am straight, “Yes, woman must suffer small to enjoy big.” So, she left Ibuka too. She push all di good boys away because she dey look for danger, she dey look for man where go shake her world with raw power.

Then, Sandra met Mark. And na from there di real wahala start.

Mark na man where tall like Iroko tree. Him shoulder wide like hunter drum, and him eye no dey laugh at all—e dey burn like fire. When Mark speak, him voice deep, and even silence dey listen. He no dey send sweet morning messages, he no dey beg, he no dey chase woman. Di first day dem met, Sandra say, “Good afternoon,” Mark just nod him head walk pass. Sandra heart jump. Di next day, Mark come Sandra shop, drop nylon full of fruits and say, “You too beautiful to buy bananas by yourself,” then he walk comot before she fit answer. Sandra hand cold, her belly begin dance. Mark na mystery. Some days he go make her laugh, other days he go just sit down dey look her. No kneeling down, no begging, no sorry. Pure power.

One evening, as Sandra dey try argue about one small matter, Mark look her straight for eye, him voice low but heavy, he say, “Lower your voice, Sandra.” He no shout o, but that voice press Sandra chest, and inside her mind, something spark. She go home that night dey whisper to herself, “Yes! This na love! At last, I don’t find di man where make me feel small. Di one where no dey smile too much, di one where no dey beg, di one where dey make my heart beat like war drum.”

For di beginning, e be like say Sandra don enter paradise. Every morning, Mark dey bring gift. Today na basket of sweet mangoes, tomorrow na expensive wrappers where colors dey dance like fire. He buy her gold earrings, bracelets where dey shine like morning dew. He go just drop am without noise and say, “You deserve more.” He call her “my queen,” “my light,” “di woman where make my heart wake up.” Sandra go blush, her smile wide, her laughter return. For night, Mark go cook hot thick soup for her, he go say, “Sit down make I serve you.” He go wipe her mouth, rub her feet, and tell her say she beautiful until she start to believe am. Dem go laugh till midnight, dance barefoot for sitting room, and Mark go dey sing small small songs inside her ear. People for town begin dey talk say Sandra don find true love, say Mark dey treat her like queen. But dem no know say inside that sweet paradise, a very dark shadow dey hide.

Love where get too much wild passion, e no dey always end well.

One quiet evening, moon dey shine softly for sky. Sandra dey sit down for Mark room, she dey look her phone dey smile. Suddenly, di phone ring, e buzz again. Mark look up from where he sit down, him voice calm but cold like ice. He ask, “Who be that?” Sandra, with smile for face, say, “Just a friend.” But Mark face change instantly. Him brow fold like squeezed cloth. He ask again, “A man?” Sandra look am, she say, “E no matter now, we just dey talk.” Na there thunder strike.

“Don’t play with me!” Mark shouted. Before Sandra fit blink her eye, Mark heavy hand don land for her cheek—PAH! Sandra head turn, di room shake, even di air freeze. But Sandra no be woman where dey cry easily. She hold her face, breathe deep, and with all her power, she slap Mark back! Di two of dem stand face to face, eye hot, heart beating louder than drum. Neighbors hear di noise, dem rush come inside di room, hold Mark back, hold Sandra back. Sandra pick her bag, her face red, her blood boiling, she walk comot that night.

What would you have done if you found yourself in Sandra’s position after that first slap?

But di wonder na say, before sun even set for di next day, Sandra don return back to Mark door. Her eye soft, her lip quiet, her bag for hand. She whisper to herself, “I love him, I can’t live without him.” And just like that, she step back into di fire where go eventually destroy her.

After that night, something inside Mark grow bigger and darker. His jealousy turn into madness. He no dey wait for Sandra to come house again; he go come her workplace everyday, stand for door like dark shadow. He no dey talk, he go just watch Sandra like lion where dey watch goat. If any customer where be man come near Sandra even to ask for water, Mark eye go turn red. “Why did you smile at him?” he go ask. Sandra go say, “I was just being polite now,” but Mark no go ever believe. Sometimes when dem dey alone, he go grip Sandra wrist so hard say, “Look at me when I talk to you!” Other times, he go shout until wall shake, and sometimes, he go beat her mercilessly.

One afternoon, Sandra come work, she wrap big scarf for her neck, her cloth long reach her fingers. But that scarf no fit hide di deep pain inside her eye. Her friends notice di marks. Amaka look her, her heart break, she ask, “What happened to your arm?” Another friend whisper, “Did he beat you again?” Sandra just smile a weak, small smile, she look away and say, “No, na nothing. He was just correcting me. He loves me, he no dey like that all di time.” Her friends look her with sorrow, but Sandra mind don blind. In her mind, love must come with pain, and she must bear am.

Then one bad night, di madness reach another level. Inside Mark house, fight start over small thing—because Sandra laugh as she dey look her phone. “Who are you laughing with? Why are you laughing when I’m angry?” Mark roared. Before Sandra fit give answer, Mark heavy fist hit her shoulder. Sandra scream. Mark shout, Sandra shout back. Neighbors begin hear di sound again—blows, cries, heavy footsteps. Mark grab Sandra by her arm, drag her like dirty log of wood to di door, “Get out!” he roared. He push her comot like old broom.

Di night cold, street quiet, Sandra feet bare. Her wrapper dey fall, her face wet with heavy tears. She walk one leg after another like bird with broken wings. She go stop for front of one small blue gate. She knock softly, once, twice. Di door open slowly. Na Amaka.

When Amaka see Sandra, her mouth open, no words comot. Her eye fill with tears immediately. Sandra lip cut, her eye swollen, her shoulder red. Amaka pull her inside house, hold her tight like mother where dey hold sick pikin. Under di yellow light for room, Amaka cry out, “Sandra, you will die there! Is that what you want? To die in di name of love?” Sandra no fit talk, she just sit down for floor dey cry. She cry all night until tear duct dry, until her chest turn silent.

Morning come slowly. Sun light enter window touch Sandra swollen face. Amaka sit down by her side, wipe her face, “You need to eat something, your chest empty.” Sandra shake her head, “I can’t swallow, my heart too bitter.” Soon, their other friends, Ngozi and Chinelo, rush enter. Dem carry hot yam, palm oil, and soft bread. When dem see Sandra, dem cover mouth. Ngozi cry, “He did this to you?” Chinelo sit down touch her hand, “You can’t go back there, you hear me? You will not survive it next time!”

Sandra sit down quietly, her voice thin like paper. She look her friends, she say, “I’m tired. I can’t go back. I won’t go back even if he begs, even if he kneels. I won’t follow him again.” Tears roll down, but her voice strong. Her friends hug her tight like broken pot where dem no want make e scatter. Amaka whisper, “Thank you, we’ve been waiting to hear you say this.” For a moment, e be like say sky don clear for Sandra.

That evening, house calm. Friends make tea, tell small jokes to make Sandra smile. She try eat, she even bath, change her wrapper, and dem all sleep. But when morning clear, Amaka open eye, Sandra mat empty! Her clothes gone, her bag gone, her slippers for door gone! Amaka shout, “Sandra!” No answer. She check toilet, check back of house, nothing. She call her phone ten times, no response. Ngozi and Chinelo rush come. Dem all look each other, and without wasting time, dem run go di one place where dem dey fear pass—Mark compound.

And there, right by di gate, Sandra dey stand with broom, she dey sweep compound quietly like say nothing happen! Her face blank, no tears, no smile. Her eye dey look far away, like person where don lose inside her own soul. Amaka shout, “Sandra! What are you doing here? You said you were done!” Sandra look down, her voice low, “I just… I just wanted peace. I love Mark, I can’t live without him.” Her friends look her, dem tire. Dem realize say Sandra don enter a trap where pass human power.

And na so, because Sandra was just a girlfriend then, not yet a wife, time fly pass. One day, Mark change him ways small. He wear clean white shirt, come with family elders, carry drinks, yams, kola nuts, goat, and expensive wine. Dem knock Sandra family door, say, “We have come to marry your daughter.” And di wedding happen. Music play, jollof rice boku, people dance. Some people smile, but others watch with pity, dey whisper say, “Maybe he will change now.”

But Mark no change.

Months later, Sandra born baby girl—small, soft, beautiful pikin. Dem name her Elizabeth. Elizabeth eye shine like stars, her laughter sweet like bell. For a while, Sandra life sweet again. She go kiss Elizabeth tiny feet, sing sweet songs for her, her heart fill with joy. But di peace no last. Mark voice start to get louder again. Him anger grow hotter. He go shout because of food, shout because of salt, shout if Elizabeth cry for night. He go slam doors, break plates. Sandra go just hold her baby tight, sit down for dark corner till morning. Her friends stop to come check her, neighbors stop to knock. Still, Sandra stay. She look her baby say, “This na love, love no dey easy.” She believe say her pain na proof of her strength, but she no know say grave dey wait for front.

Then, one bright afternoon, destiny play a very dirty game.

Sky bright, air sweet, Sandra dey hum song as she dey walk come back from market, basket for her head. Her birthday dey come next week, and she want surprise Mark with special food. She buy fresh peppers, ripe plantains, goat meat, and soft yam. She dey smile, say, “Let me surprise him.” She reach home early, house quiet. She don drop Elizabeth for her aunt place, so she tiptoe enter house, her heart beating with joy. She open kitchen door, drop basket, and walk softly to her bedroom to surprise her husband.

But di moment she open that bedroom door, her breath seize! Her eye wide, her heart freeze completely!

Mark lay down for bed with another woman. Their bodies close, dem dey laugh low voice. Di whole room begin spin for Sandra eye. Her ear dey ring like church bell. Her legs shake like dry leaves inside heavy wind. Di woman for bed never see Sandra, but Mark look up, and him eye meet Sandra eye. In that one split second, all di years of bruises, all di slaps, all di pain, all di tears where Sandra don swallow inside her belly—everything boil over like hot volcano!

Sandra no say single word. She turn around with speed, run straight into di kitchen. She open drawer, grab di biggest, sharpest kitchen knife. Di metal cold for her hand, but her body hot like fire where don wait too long to burn. She storm back into di bedroom like wind of destruction. Di woman for bed sit up, confused and terrified. Mark try stand up halfway, he raise hand, “Sandra, wait!”

But Sandra had no more words. Only pure, unadulterated madness and rage!

She raise di knife high—and plunge am inside Mark chest! ONE! Blood squirt! TWO! More blood! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! Di white bed sheets turn deep red. Mark shout with pain, di woman scream with terror. But Sandra hand no stop. She dey stab am like person where dey inside trance, lifting and dropping di blade with every ounce of pain she had ever suffered.

Right at that moment, as di bedroom turn into a slaughterhouse, a tiny voice speak from di door frame. Little Elizabeth, who had just been dropped off, was standing there. Her tiny hands hold di wood, her big star-like eyes wide open with horror. “Mommy?” she whispered. But Sandra ear don deaf with rage. She stab again and again, until di man she once loved with all her soul stopped moving, his body turning into a cold corpse on di bloody mattress.

Di room suddenly turn quiet. Only Elizabeth heavy breathing dey family space. And then, a voice scream from di bed again. Di woman where lay down there cry out, her voice cracking like broken glass, tear pouring from her eye, “Stop! Sandra, it’s me! It’s Ada!”

Sandra freeze. Di bloody knife slip from her hand, drop to di floor with a loud CLANG!

Her heart stop. Her brain freeze. She turn slowly to look at di woman face.

Ada! Her own biological sister! Same blood, same womb, same childhood! Ada face was soaked with heavy tears. She dey shake as she wrap cloth around her body, crying, “I came to plan your birthday surprise! Mark wanted it to be special, he told me not to tell you! We were decorating di room with flowers and gifts… you came back too early!”

Do you believe Sandra’s extreme action can ever be justified, or did her toxic obsession with “painful love” doom her from the very beginning?

Sandra mouth open, but no single sound comot. Her legs fail her, she sink to her knees on di bloody floor. Her hands tremble like dry leaves inside strong storm. Elizabeth stand for door, still watching, her small body frozen, her eyes full of a dark horror that no child for this world should ever carry. Mark lay on di bed, blood everywhere, his chest stopped moving completely. He was dead.

They rushed him to di hospital later, but by nightfall, doctors confirm say he don gone. Just like that. Di man where bring gifts, di man where shout, di man where beat her, di man she killed out of blind jealousy—gone forever. Di police come, big men in black uniform. Dem put cold iron chains for Sandra hands like goat where dey go market. She no fight, she no speak, she just follow dem like shadow where don lose its body.

For court, di judge look her with heavy face, hit him gavel—BAM! “You took a life, now yours will stay behind bars. Life imprisonment!”

Elizabeth was taken away to live with her uncle for another town. As dem dey carry her go, she hold her small doll, look back one last time through di window, whispering, “Mommy…” Sandra watch from inside police van, tears rolling down her face—not loud ones, just quiet, slow, heavy tears of absolute regret. Inside prison cell today, Sandra dey sit down alone everyday, looking at di cold stone wall. Every night she close her eye, she dey see three faces: Mark laughing with her under mango trees, Ada crying on that bloody bed, and little Elizabeth standing at di door, watching her mother break into unfixable pieces. Outside for town, people still dey tell di story till today, shaking dem head: “She loved him too much,” one person go say. “But love without peace,” another go add, “it will burn everything down to ashes.”

Oya, pass this message to your friends and family make dem learn from Sandra mistake.