A year and ten months slipped by quietly like wind brushing through curtains, leaving no trace behind. Still, no pregnancy. No heartbeat. No change.
Golden had stopped counting her cycles. Stopped buying test kits. She'd suggested adoption once, but Xavier shut it down immediately — his tone sharp, his eyes distant. So she stopped asking.
Instead, she poured herself into work. Her boutique reopened, brighter and bolder than ever. Clients returned, orders poured in, fabrics stacked high on the shelves. The rhythmic hum of her sewing machine filled the quiet corners of her mind. She stayed late at the shop, sketching new designs under the soft glow of her desk lamp.
It was easier that way. Easier to lose herself in stitches and silk than to sit at home, waiting for a husband who barely looked at her.
But even work couldn't always drown the ache. Sometimes, in the stillness of night, the pain crept back — slow and sharp — stealing her peace like a thief that always knew its way in.
⸻
It was Sunday Evening. The aroma of jollof rice and grilled chicken drifted through the living room.
Golden sat with her mother-in-law, Mrs. Adebayo, and her sister-in-law, Adenike, laughter floating easily between them. Adenike had just cracked a joke about one of her church members when Golden suddenly went quiet, her smile fading.
"Gold? Gold?" Mrs. Adebayo tapped her arm gently. "What's wrong?"
Golden blinked, her voice small. "Oh—I'm okay. I just…" She sighed deeply, her gaze distant, "Mommy, it's almost two years already. Two years, and still no child." Her voice cracked. "Is God even listening to me at all?"
Mrs. Adebayo's expression softened. She reached over, placing a comforting hand on Golden's arm.
"Darling," she said gently, "He always listens. But let me ask you something—are you serving God because you want a child… or are you serving Him because of who He is?"
Golden smiled weakly, but tears brimmed in her eyes. "For who He is," she whispered, voice trembling.
Mrs. Adebayo smiled tenderly and handed her a Bible. "Then open to Jeremiah 17:7 for me."
Golden obeyed, her hands shaking as she read aloud, "But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him."
Mrs. Adebayo leaned closer. "Do you still trust Him?"
Golden nodded slowly, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I do."
"Even if He doesn't give you a child anytime soon?"
A pause. A long, heavy pause. Golden swallowed hard and nodded again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll still do."
Adenike, who had been watching quietly, stepped forward and wrapped Golden in a warm, tearful hug, "It's okay, sis," she murmured. "He will do it. Just keep trusting. He hasn't forgotten you."
The room fell silent, soft and heavy, filled only with the distant hum of the AC.
And then the front door clicked open.
Xavier walked in. His suit jacket slung lazily over one shoulder, face unreadable. He wasn't even surprised to see his family anymore. They were always there — filling the void he'd created.
"Son!" Mrs. Adebayo said sharply, rising to her feet. "When last did you step foot in this house?"
"Good evening, Mom." His tone was casual, cold.
"I want to have a word with you in the kitchen. Now."
He sighed, clearly irritated. "What now, Mom?"
"Follow me," she snapped, fingers gesturing toward the kitchen.
The faint smell of stew lingered in the air. Xavier leaned against the counter, arms folded, his jaw tight. Mrs. Adebayo faced him, her eyes fierce.
"What has come over you, Xavier?" she demanded. "I don't like the way you're treating your wife. You leave her in this massive house all alone. That's not love, Xavier. That's cowardice."
He scoffed. "You're always here for her, aren't you?"
"Am I her husband?" she fired back. "Am I the one who vowed to stand by her? You two loved each other so much. I saw it with my own eyes. What happened to that love, Xav?"
He looked away, jaw clenched. "I didn't sign up for this life, Mom."
"No one does," she said firmly. "But you vowed before God. Or are you seeing another woman?"
His eyes snapped up. "No."
"Then why haven't you touched your wife in months?" she pressed, voice rising. "How do you expect her to get pregnant? By miracle osmosis?"
He glared. "She tells you about our sex life now? Well, what's the point of sleeping with a woman who can't conceive? It's wasted energy. She should just accept she's barren and—"
"XAVIER!" Mrs. Adebayo gasped, covering his mouth in shock.
But it was too late. Unbeknownst to them, Golden had been standing right behind the door.
Her knees buckled. Her breath caught. She pushed the door open, her face pale, voice trembling.
"You… called me… barren?"
Xavier froze, shock flashing in his eyes, but pride made his face harden, "Whatever," he muttered.
"Answer me!" Golden screamed, voice shaking.
"Aren't you?!" he shot back. "Aren't you, Gold? Look at Adenike—she got married this year, and she's already carrying life inside her. And you? Almost nine years, Golden! Nine! Tell me what that makes you if not barren!"
The sound of the slap on Xavier's face echoed through the kitchen — sharp and heavy. Mrs. Adebayo's palm stung from the force.
Golden gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. Then she broke — collapsing to the floor in gut wrenching sobs, clawing at her chest as if trying to tear the pain out.
Adenike ran to hold her. Mrs. Adebayo's tears fell freely too.
Xavier took a step back, horror dawning on his face. "I—I didn't mean it…" he whispered, but no one was listening.
He turned and ran upstairs, locking himself in his room. He cried the entire night, silent, broken.
By dawn, he was gone — sneaking out before anyone could wake.
⸻
A WEEK LATER.
The sun spilled lazily across the living room.
Golden lay on the sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine. The front door opened without warning.
"Hello, my daughter," Ada's sharp voice sliced through the air.
Golden didn't even flinch. "Hi, Mom."
Ada strutted in, dressed in a fine Ankara gown and gold jewelry, grinning coldly. "Where's your son or daughter? They should come and greet their grandmother," she said, settling into the chair across from Golden.
Golden sighed. "Don't be ridiculous, Mom. You know there's no child here."
"Oh really?" Ada laughed, tilting her head. "I thought your god would've dropped one by now."
Golden sat up, voice low. "Mom, please. I'm not in the mood."
"Tell me," Ada said, crossing her legs. "What has two years of Christianity brought you?"
Golden looked her dead in the eye. "Peace. It brought me peace."
Ada scoffed. "Peace? Oh, Golden, you crack me up."
Golden exhaled, tired. "Why are you here, Mom?"
"To check on my grandchild. But since there's none, I'll take my leave."
"You came all the way from Apu just to mock me?"
Ada smirked. "Who said I'm in Apu? I don't stay there anymore."
Golden frowned. "So you're in Lagos now?"
"I'm not telling you anything." Ada stood gracefully, adjusting her scarf. "You chose your god, remember? You disregarded everything I taught you....As for this peace you speak of—are you sure it's real?" She leaned closer, eyes glinting. "Your husband… where is he? With some young girl, I bet."
Her laughter echoed as she walked out.
Golden sank deeper into the sofa, refusing to let her words pierce her heart. But they did. They always did.
**************
The office hummed with the last quiet breaths of the day — a desk lamp here, a blinking cursor there. Papers stacked like tiny verdicts. Outside, the streetlights made long orange bars across the glass.
Diana leaned over Xavier's desk, pointing to the printed contract with perfectly manicured fingers.
"Your signature is needed here," she said, tapping the paper. "And here."
Xavier exhaled, letting the stress leak out his shoulders. He signed, stretched, and slumped back in his chair. "Whew. Can't wait to hit the bed," he muttered.
Diana chuckled, eyes watching him. "So — you going home?"
He clicked his tongue. "Nah. The hotel."
She tried to hide the hope in her voice. "Really? Hmm… I was thinking maybe we could — you know — go out for dinner."
"Dinner?" Xavier asked, closing his laptop.
She laughed a little nervous, a false casualness. "Yeah."
He considered, then smiled. "Alright. Let's grab something to eat."
Diana's face lit up. "Seriously, Xav? You mean it?"
"Meet me downstairs," he said, chuckling as he picked up his bag and left.
Diana screamed softly, then collected her things in a daze. Her fingers trembled as she locked the office and followed.
The restaurant glowed—polished wood, soft lighting, linen napkins folded like invitations. Xavier and Diana sat opposite each other, wine glasses catching the light. Conversation flowed easy at first — business, travel, silly memories — and for a few hours, the world narrowed to the table between them.
After dessert, Xavier drove her back to her apartment. She invited him in; he declined politely, dropping her at the door and heading to the hotel he used when he needed space.
When his car vanished down the street, Diana fished her phone from her bag and dialed Dee.
"Hey Dee?"
"Hey girl. What's up?"
"Can you give me Xavier's hotel room number?" she asked hurriedly.
"What?! Why?"
"We went to dinner. He dropped me home. I think this is my chance."
Dee laughed, delighted. "Wow. If you get him, what happens to our… arrangement?"
Diana snapped, impatient. "Guy! Just forward the room number."
Dee's laugh softened into a grin. "Okay, okay, Pleasure doing business with you."
The call ended. Diana's lips curved into a smile that trembled on the edge of triumph and shame.
⸻
Jazz hummed from the speakers. The suite smelled faintly of lemon and the cologne Xavier favored. He was on his laptop when the doorbell rang.
He frowned, puzzled. "I'm not expecting anyone." He opened the door.
Diana stood there, half-dressed, perfume heavy in the warm hallway air. She leaned against the frame, eyes bright.
"Diana?" Xavier blinked, surprise and a flash of annoyance crossing his face. He recognized the look — Dee must have given her his room number.
"Aren't you going to let me in?" she asked, voice low.
"You should've called if you forgot anything," he said. "You don't have to come all the way here."
"I didn't forget anything." She stepped into the doorway like she owned the moment. "Isn't it bad manners to leave a guest at the door?"
He hesitated, then stepped back. "Fine. Come in."
She sat down with deliberate grace, the silk of her dress whispering. Xavier watched, uncomfortable.
"You must be bored," she purred, leaning closer. "You need—"
He cut her off, the word sharp. "Why are you dressed like this, Diana?"
"To keep you company," she answered, voice soft and rehearsed.
"I don't need company, Diana." He rose, tone steady. "Please leave."
Diana blinked, taken aback by the firmness, then recovered with practiced sultriness. "We connected tonight, Xav. We've got a vibe." She moved closer, hand brushing his arm. "Don't you want this? Don't you want to taste—"
Xavier's face hardened. He pointed toward the door. "Leave now, Diana. You misunderstood the dinner. It was friendly. Nothing else."
She rose, voice low and dangerous. "Stop pretending. You don't even sleep at home anymore. You're halfway gone. Let me pull you the rest of the way."
She turned slowly, letting the silk slide to reveal more of her skin. It was deliberate, an invitation. Xavier's breath hitched.
She placed his hand on her waist. For a second his world narrowed to the heat of her body and the slow drum of his pulse. His breathing grew heavier.
She pressed closer, breath warm against his skin.
"You don't have to be loyal to someone who's no longer yours," she murmured.
His voice came out barely a whisper, "Golden is still mine."
Diana's hand slid over his, guiding it up, daring him.
"Then why are you letting me touch you?" she asked, every word a temptation.
Her lips brushed his neck. Xavier closed his eyes for a long second, the contact jangling something inside him. She leaned in and kissed him — slow, soft, insistent. His lips parted; for a heart-stopping moment he answered, his hand climbing her back to feel the skin beneath the silk.
She moaned low, desperate, and slipped her dress straps down, exposing herself to him.
Her whisper was urgent. "Take me, Xavier. Right here. Right now."
She took his hand and placed it on her chest. He froze, fingers trembling. Conflict ripped across his face, desire wrestling with shame. And then-
Something inside him snapped.
Images of Golden — her laugh, the small tilt of her head when she concentrated, the way she tucked hair behind her ear — exploded through his mind. The promises they'd made. The ring on her finger. Their long, complicated history.
He pushed away as if freed from a trance. "No… no, what am I doing?"
"Xavier?" She touched him.
He jerked away, setting distance between them as if the contact burned. "Get off me!" he barked.
Diana, stunned, tried to salvage it. "But—Xavier, we were—"
He cut her off, voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. "Get dressed. Leave. Now!"
She lunged, fingers on his sleeve. "Come on. It was good. Don't act like you don't want me."
"Get your hands off me!" he snarled.
Her face crumpled in confusion and hurt. She snatched her clothes, fury and humiliation wrestling on her features as she fled the suite.
Outside on the street, she dialed Dee, tears and anger making her voice jagged.
"Hey Dee," she breathed, hands shaking. "He kicked me out. I don't know what happened."
Dee laughed, calloused. "And? You shaking?"
Diana's jaw tightened. "You're insensible." She hung up and ordered a ride, replaying the moment like a broken record — embarrassed, furious, aching.
Xavier sat on the edge of the bed, the perfume still ghosting the air. He pressed his head into his hands. His reflection in the mirror looked hollow and ashamed.
"What was I thinking?" he muttered. "What was I doing?"
For years he'd allowed a slow drift: distance, silence, stubbornness. Tonight, he'd almost crossed a line that could ruin everything.
He stood abruptly and began pacing, hands trembling. Finally he grabbed his keys with shaking fingers.
"I have to go home," he whispered.
His heart hammered the truth he'd been avoiding. He needed to face what he'd almost lost.