Christian Fiction: Wednesday

Sharon could barely sleep. She could barely process her thoughts, let alone make an accurate decision - a decision that she needed to make fast to save her mental health, to be exact, and to save her last pound of dignity.

She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that this time would actually come in her life - a time when she would leave sentiments aside and take a bold decision to be free from the fringes of her best friend who also dubbed as her sister since they became motherless  years ago.

Read: Christian Story - Love

She twirled her wedding band and peeped at her husband whose mouth was slightly opened, emitting low snores that could barely see the light of hearing. He looked so much at peace. So much at rest, even though they had had one of their arguments before they retired to the room.

She groaned and hit her hand on the pillow, trying hard not to squeal in them to wake his charming majesty beside her. It took extra efforts for her not to wake him. It was something they needed to do. It was a conversation they needed to have. But how? How would they have it?

She picked her phone and checked the message she received barley twenty minutes earlier:

"I'm coming over to your place at 7. Kisses."

Another groan emitted from her mouth and before she could stop herself, she got out of bed and wobbled to the kitchen where she poured a glass of water. She checked the message again and again. It was the same thing. It was the same message and the same manner.

Sharon knew something so sure and it was that every of her friend's visit would be to remind her subtly that she had been the one to help her. She had been the one to help her get a job when it looked as though her life was falling apart - which actually was true at that time.

Her friend was the one who helped her to get the pieces of her life together. She came to her rescue by helping her secure a job at her uncle's company. It was this same friend who had orchestrated her meeting with the man sleeping upstairs, the man who became her husband after years of “forming hard girl”.

It was this same friend who had stood by her side when she didn't want to see anyone after her first miscarriage. It was an awful experience for her and even though she refused help from everyone while trying to mourn her loss alone, her friend had insisted and pushed her way inside the house to help her.

Was she grateful? Yes. Was she happy to have such friend? Yes. But was she happy at the moment? No.

Her friend seemed to have a hold on her. She would ask for things that were not comfortable for her to give or say or even practice but because she wanted to respect her, to respect her sacrifices, she would say, “yes”.

It was almost looking like blackmail at a point. Every word, every action, every request, every demand laced with that touch of blackmail. That touch of "you know I was the one who helped you get a job in my uncle's company" or "you know I was the one who suffered your miscarriage with you."

It was all looking like blackmail and at the moment, she was suffocating because of it. The air in her home which used to be peaceful and pleasant was already turning toxic and pungent because of her friend. Just two days ago, she told them to go for adoption or IVF since no child was forthcoming.

Told them, not asked. Not suggested. Not advised. It was an instruction. A you-can't-say-no-to-whatever-i-say kind of instruction. An instruction that her husband wasn't having. He just wasn't having many things and right now, looking at her message again, it was one of the many things they were not having. Her constant call at their place without proper call or check.

She would simply waltz in and out of the house anytime and no, they were not having it anymore, especially her husband.  Sharon sighed and flipped the cup in the sink making a terrible reverberating noise. She checked her phone again and sighing for the last time, she typed the message. The message that had always been on her mind.

"I'm sorry. My husband and I are having a program in the house and would love our privacy. I will let you know when we're available to receive you. Take care."

And sent.

Question 1: why do you think many people think they have a say or can take major decisions in our lives because at one point or the other, they have helped us?

Question 2: do you think Sharon was wrong to have sent such message? Do you think she was being ungrateful and paranoid or she was being reasonable?

Question 3: which other way do you think this issue can be addressed so that both parties arrive at a meeting point without anyone feeling bad or hurt?

It's another Wednesday to give out our opinions about issues of life.

Had such a similar experience that you would like to share with me? Feel free.

And oh, we will continue the love series on Friday. Stay tuned.

This piece was written by Mobolaji Titilope, a creative writer. You can connect with, and read other stories by Titilope here.