PART 1: THE NIGHT MY WIFE WALKED IN — AND BEAT BOTH ME AND MY SIDE CHICK LIKE THIEVES!

7th Jun, 2025 Views 87

PART 1: THE NIGHT MY WIFE WALKED IN — AND BEAT BOTH ME AND MY SIDE CHICK LIKE THIEVES!

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Part 1:

Let me confess.

This story is not for the faint-hearted. If your heart is weak, drink cold water before reading.

My name is Michael, but in Port Harcourt, the boys call me “Chairman of Soft Life.”

I had a good job at an oil servicing company, a fine car, and an even finer wife, Oluchi. Tall, caramel skin, with that kind of body that makes pastors speak in tongues.

She was a businesswoman, owned two boutiques and a POS stand. Always busy, always grinding. I used to call her “Madam Hustle.”

But you see, even with all that beauty and brains… I was still an idiot.

I met Cynthia at a friend’s birthday party. She was light-skinned, loud, and had eyelashes that could sweep compound.

She laughed at all my jokes, even the dry ones. Within a week, we were already eating shawarma in my car and sharing “good morning baby” messages.

I told myself it was harmless.

Big mistake.

Cynthia started catching feelings. She would post our chats on her WhatsApp status. She saved my name as “Hubby 🥺💍.”

Omo.

I warned her, “Don’t cross the line. I’m a married man.”

She said, “And I’m a married side chick. Let’s focus.”

I thought I had it under control, until one Friday evening when thunder decided to strike my destiny.

That evening, my wife said she was traveling to Aba to restock her boutique.

She kissed me goodbye, packed her Ghana-Must-Go, and zoomed off in her Toyota Corolla.

I called Cynthia immediately.

> “Baby, my house is free tonight. Come and sleep over.”

She arrived like a hurricane. Full makeup, nightwear that looked like she borrowed it from Nollywood, and perfume that could blind mosquitoes.

We cooked spaghetti, watched Netflix, and did what foolish men do when their wife is away.

Around 2am, I heard the front door creak.

At first, I thought I was dreaming.

Then I heard heels.

High heels.

Marching like destiny had arrived.

I froze.

Before I could say “Holy Ghost fire,” my bedroom door flung open—

It was Oluchi.

Wigless. Bagless. Makeup-less. But fully powered by rage and native energy.

She looked at me. Looked at Cynthia. Then looked at me again.

> “Michael… you are cheating on me in our bed?”

I stood up, stammering. “B-baby, it’s not what it looks like—”

Before I could finish, Oluchi charged like a bull in Ojuelegba traffic.

What happened next, I cannot fully explain.

She pounced on Cynthia first.

Grabbed her by her 72-inch wig. Flung her across the bed. Cynthia screamed, “Jesus!” but Jesus had logged off.

Oluchi turned to me and shouted—

> “You! Useless man! Hold your side hen before I remove her teeth!”

I rushed to stop her.

Big mistake.

That’s how my wife slapped me like NEPA slap transformer.

One side of my face went offline.

To make matters worse… that’s when Cynthia said the worst thing ever:

> “You told me you were divorced!”

CONTINUE WITH PART 2 HERE 👉👉 Whispers & Wonders.