The first month alone felt like learning how to walk. No one to report to. No one to hide from. No one to perform a “good wife” a “ a good girl” or “good secret” for.

Just me and the terrifying freedom of boring days.

The whispers did stop completely. They just got quieter as I learned to ignore them. I didn't believe I owed anyone any explanation.

The aunty at the mart where I got my groceries from, asked: “Ehn, how your husband?”

“”He's good, thank you.”

“ No worry, God go perfect everything.”

"Amen." I didn't want him to.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain. I bought my...