My wife’s male colleague sent his nude pictures to my wife.

It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor; if a woman wants to che£at, she’ll ch£at. Go ahead, read that again.

Some women will stand by you no matter the state of your bank account or prowess in bed. Loyalty runs in their blood. But a cheat? A ch£at is a ch£at.

Now, my wife had this charming colleague who gave her a ride to and from work every day, all because I couldn’t buy her a car just yet. The guy was all smiles and sweetness, and given the nature of their work, they grew closer. I’m not the type to police who my wife talks to or mingles with. She’s a grown woman, right? Smart enough to know what’s good for her and what’s not, regardless of the temptations lurking around.

Soon enough, this guy started dropping hints, making moves on my wife. Meanwhile, his own marriage was only six months old, and trouble was already brewing. His wife suspected he was crossing lines with my wife, and from the way they started chatting, anyone looking in would think they were up to something.

How did I know? Every night, my wife would cast their conversations up on our TV for me to see, even playing recorded chats they had in the car. She was transparent like clear water.

This guy knew his wife was suspicious, so he set out to make her fears a reality. But I kept my cool, didn’t question my wife, and let her choose her path. It was a test—a test for her to decide whether she would tear down our home or let the guy ruin his own.

As the days passed, I noticed this guy lavishing my wife with gifts. He took her shopping, picked out all sorts of things for her. She, however, put her foot down when it came to gifts for me; the guy protested, but she dumped everything he’d bought. Only after much pleading did he buy two pairs of shoes and a designer shirt for me. I almost questioned why she refused to keep the gifts for herself, but she just smiled a knowing smile.

Then came her birthday. This man pulled out all the stops to surprise her with a celebration. You should’ve seen his face when he saw me there; the shock drained his face pale. His intentions were as clear as a Lagos traffic jam at rush hour.

She looked right at him, raised a glass, and said,

“This is my husband. My rock, my life. I can never love any other man apart from him. I don’t care what anyone else has or who they are—if you’re not him, you’re nothing to me.”

The guy stormed out. That night, he called her, ranted for nearly an hour, and grumbled about how much he’d spent on her. Why was he spending all that money on my wife and not on his own?

One day, my wife came home with good news: she’d secured a new job in a different city. We’d have to relocate, but she was thrilled. That guy went to every length to convince her to stay. He even shed tears, begging her to sleep with him just once, saying he couldn’t bear to let her go. The desperation in his voice was so intense, even I felt a moment’s pity.

He paid us a visit one weekend, glaring at me like I was the one in his way. I gave them space. Then my wife dropped a bombshell: she was pregnant.

The guy erupted.

“You can’t be serious! All this time, I thought you felt the same way.”

With a calm that could freeze fire, she replied, “Gbadebo, you’re my friend and like a brother to me.”

I don’t know why he remained hell-bent on crossing the line.

Once or twice, I even received anonymous calls, threatening me if I didn’t divorce her. There was one evening, after my wife and I had an argument, that he called. She put him on speaker, and he started his tirade:

“I’m coming to take you away from that man. How dare he shout at you? Does he know how much I wish I were him? I told you, baby, he doesn’t deserve you. He can’t take care of you. Leave that deadbeat; we’ll have beautiful babies and—”

She cut him off with the fury of a mother lion.

“I have told you over a thousand times, never speak about my husband like that again. Who do you think you are, Gbadebo? Do you think I’m some cheap street girl who’ll swoon over you just because you throw some money and swagger my way? Listen, if you ever call me again, that’s if I even pick up, don’t you dare insult my husband. Enough is enough!”

I slipped out of the room and into our bedroom, a broad smile plastered on my face. I dropped to my knees, thanking God for giving me a woman like this. Fearless and blunt!

Later, when she joined me, I quickly went on my knees, begged her to forgive my doubts. She did, with the grace of a queen.

Believe you me, for two nights, baba, I couldn’t sleep, marveling at her strength and loyalty.

It’s luck to find such a strong lady outside now! Baddie everywhere with little or no composure.

And on the day we left for our new home, this was when she earned my entire respect.

Guess what, she arranged for a logistics company to deliver every single item that man had bought for her—everything, down to the last pair of shoes. Including the shirt and the two shoes he got for me. The delivery arrived at his house on a Sunday morning, just as he was home with his wife.

That act broke him. Days later, he called me to apologize, though he had no idea I knew everything.

Do you think my wife doesn’t feel tempted? I didn’t tell you he sent his nakedness and talk dirty with my wife? I saw it but I managed the anger.

She practice self control and Contentment. I know sometimes are not strong as my wife, it’s better you flee!

Contentment is a crown, and once you lose it, you’re left with nothing but ashes.

Amusan Tolulope Writes