True love never dies… I heard and read over and over again and it didn’t matter how many times that was, it didn’t make much sense to me.
Or no. It didn’t make much sense to me anymore. It used to make sense but since my marriage fell apart, I saw that a lie no matter how sweetly uttered can never be the truth.
Everything dies when it is put to death.
And everything that dies decays and then disappears forever until there is no separating it from the dust of the earth.
My marriage was heaven on earth.
It was beautiful beyond description.
It was intimidatingly joyful.
It was bold and beautiful.
God was part of it and we were big on him or so we thought.
But, like many others, we put God in our mind as religion and put religion as God. The way to God we saw to be religion, the way away from him, we believed to be open-mindedness.
So when the pastor said we had to fast two days a week – Fridays and Saturdays consecutively for three months, we blindly agreed.
“Don’t sleep in the same room during that period.”
“You both are too attached to each other and this is affecting your God- connection.”
At first, it was good. It was cool for us because the heated sessions of lovemaking we had after the fasts were mind-blowing, moans-evoking, toes-curling, and body-jerking.
Then, our pastor got more visions.
“Separate yourself unto the Lord.”
“Praying in a familiar environment can be a hindrance to some levels of prayers. Take turns to come to my house. ”
So we did. One week, my husband, Branky would spend three days in his house, the next week I would.
And then the decline set in.
I noticed it one Monday after Branky returned from Pastor’s house. It appeared to me that he was acting strangely like his head was always in the clouds, there was this distant look in his once so piercing eyes. Now, there wasn’t that fire in his stare, instead, it looked like it was tired.
A tired stare.
Then in the bedroom, it was a tired tool, a limp one. One that was once as erect as a pole, was lying weakly, shrunken in between two deflated balls.
But, my husband acted as if nothing was wrong. Even at his place of work, the complains trickled in from two colleagues.
“He was quiet all through. Is he ok? Even when he talked with us, something was amiss.”
The other person had said
“I think you should stop going to your pastor’s place. Limit your receiving from him to the church.”
“Why do you say this?”
“Ok, forget I said this, Kanini. I gotta take another call now.”
But, I called Pastor.
“Come and see me at my house, now.”
In his house, that Monday evening, at about 7 pm, my pastor welcomed me in and went straight to business.
“Kneel down, let me pray for you.”
My eyes were shut about the same time my knees met the floor.
He began praying and my amens followed in quick successions.
Then I felt something touching my lips and then trying to push through. I opened my eyes to the manhood of my pastor.
“Just say Amen. Stay focused. I know what I am doing.”
I got up and stood back. Calm yet heavy-hearted my eyes darting from his lust covered eyes to the erect and hard flesh standing tall in between his thighs.
I knew I had to run but I was too calm to move.
He came towards me, and gently pushed me to the sofa to seat me on it, then he lifted my leg off the ground to lay on the sofa, slowly pressed my back to the sofa so that my face was facing the ceiling.
He found his way around me and brought his erectness to my mouth, again.
Open up and receive your blessings. You want a child, do this for your child.
I opened up and did as he instructed me. His fullness in my cheek, my tongue was violated as my whole essence was as his deposits went down my throat.
When I got home, I met an alert Branky.
He asked me what happened, as though he knew what had happened but I couldn’t hold back, so I did tell him.
His response was shocking.
Well, I knew.
I had been pretending, we planned it, to get you to do what had to be done. His sperm had to purify your womb.
About three weeks later, I missed my period.
Nine months later, I had a son.
Till this time, I had put all the ordeal behind me. My husband was ok, I was pregnant, so what was it I had to worry about.
Until Branky told me I had to start another prayer sessions for another baby and that meant I had to subject my mouth to another session of deposits.
“No, Branky. No!”
And that was how things went South between us.
He wanted a second baby at all cost. I wanted the same but not at all cost.
Pastor came to the house to pray and said Branky had to allow me be and that was how that matter died.
But a realisation was born in me. A pastor now has the final say in my own home. So if the pastor says to Branky to kill me, he would.
One Sunday afternoon, after church service, I told my husband I was tired and wanted out. That was my decision but I was disappointed when he didn’t beg me to stay.
“Ok. Pastor told me it would come to this and he told me to let you be.”
And that was how a beautiful bond between two beautiful souls, a bond that had lasted for eight years, lost it’s strength and felt apart.
We were deceived, no we weren’t foolish, we were only desperate and then were we also too loyal until we became utterly foolish.
Wolves in sheep clothing. They always look harmless and that’s why people fall victim.
That’s how we fell victim, and how for us, true love died.
Many years have passed, Branky is still under the spell of a sheep-like wolf
And many others too.
I and our son are doing well even though I still wonder how a thing so beautiful can become like a thing that never was a thing.
Our love died brutally.