Before you sniffed them you knew they were your favourite roses. You are staring at the bouquet of flowers across your table.

You take off your clothes and go to the bathroom, you sit down on the marble floor as you let the steam run through your body and then you cry so loud but nobody hears. The shower is at its maximum and the door is closed.

The bastard sent the flowers you think. "so that’s all I get?” you say to yourself “just flowers”, you scoff. You get up from the floor wrap yourself in your towel and go to make coffee.

Later in the afternoon, there’s a knock on your door. You open and see a man standing there with a gift pack and swollen eyes, your husband, Ejiro.

He is saying something but you can’t hear. All you hear are the moans that escaped his mouth when you caught him masturbating.

You let him come in, you go to the kitchen and get his food out of the microwave and place it on the dining table.

Ejiro is looking at you, you can see him but you are not looking.

“How many?” you ask.

“What?” comes a confused reply

“How many women have you slept with?”

There’s an uncomfortable silence and you look at him. You know you are right. He’s been cheating.

“Babe listen we can work this out” he begs.

You walk towards your room and slam the door in his face. You hope that’s the case because you hear his footsteps behind you.

You are calm and that surprises you.

You pick up a vase, examine it and throw it on the floor. You stare at the mess you’ve made, yet relish your outburst. You throw your figurines off the table, then your glass cup, your coffee cup, and more and more.

You’re laughing hysterically, you feel tear drops slide down your cheeks, but you continue till there’s nothing left to break and then you crash to the ground ripping your hands through the glass until you feel his arms around you.

Ejiro makes muffled sounds, he’s crying you’re sure. You’re tired. You let your body fall limply into his arms. You know you will forgive him. But right now you stare at your bloodied arms and smile at your small Victory. You threw a tantrum.______________________________

Ese David is an undergraduate law student, a writer, poet and spoken word artist. She reads a lot and speaks on controversial issues that women face. Call her a feminist. She owns the esedavid.wordPress.com. She’s popularly called The African.