Forever Mine Chapter One: Denial

11:45pm

Victoria Island,

Lagos State

Jacob stood atop the balcony of his tall manor, clothed in a bathrobe and low spirits. He gazed into open space, his eyes registering nothing in-front of them. His soul had become a whirlpool of misery, his emotions swirling like the glass of burning liquid in his hands. The night was quiet, but his head wasn’t. Despite the generous efforts of the evening wind, he found it hard to breathe.

The events of the previous day looped in his head like a broken tape. The more he watched it, the more his heart broke. His mind was cruel, recalling every single detail; the movement under the sheets, the sound of her laughter, the face of another man. Tears ran down his chiseled face.

His grip on the wine glass tightened. He could hear the sound of their passionate moans under the sheets again. Lips quivering, he clenched his fists, shattering the glass in his hands. He hissed loudly in pain, feeling the sting of the cut on his finger. He sucked his teeth, holding back a cuss word with all his might.

“Ah oga?! Wetin be za floblem?” Usman, his gate man, asked as he ran from his duty post. The interchange of the letter ‘p’ for ‘f’ in his speech usually amused Jacob on a normal day. But today, it left him irritated. He breathed out, unwilling to transfer aggression.

“It’s nothing, Usman. Don’t worry about it,” he grunted, sucking the injured finger.

“Ah! okay o oga! Ehen, oga thank you for yesterday o! My mother get am por za money wey I give me. She happy well well fa!” He said giving his usual two-toothed grin.

No response.

Jacob had moved out of view. Wiping his tears, he pushed open the door adjoining the balcony to his bedroom. He heard someone gasp abruptly. He grimaced, knowing who it was. Shutting the door behind him, he turned to face his wife, Abigail.

Jacob looked into his wife’s eyes, his gaze as cold as winter. Her eyes were wet and still brimming. She had been leaning against the door, hopelessly waiting for him.

Silence fell over the room, and the air around them rippled with tension. Time slowed to a pulse, her crashing heartbeat almost audible. The words she had rehearsed had fled at the sight of her husband’s eyes. His visible hurt broke her to a million more pieces.

Jacob’s body trembled. His right hand grasped his left, examining his wedding ring in hopes that it would steady him. That was when he noticed, that the cut from the glass rested on his ring finger. How poetic.

“Why?” Jacob asked, his eyes fixed on his wedding ring.

His deep voice was broken, hoarse from his weeping earlier. His mouth quivered slightly, awaiting a response he didn’t need. A tear betrayed him, running down his right cheek.

Abigail’s lips parted, but no words came. All her well rehearsed thoughts had abandoned her. She lowered her head, her tears beginning to hit the tiled floor. She had been through many strong emotions, but guilt was having a field day with her heart at that moment.

“Jacob. I-” she said shakily.

Her tear-smothered eyes watched his face flicker in irritation. The sound of his name on her lips felt like nails in his ears. She bit her lip, thinking of what to do. Summoning her last ounce of courage, she took cautious steps towards him, her arms reaching out to him, hoping for any form of physical contact.

Jacob sensed the movement and sidestepped her like she carried the plague.

The fresh rejection felt like a knife to her already flailing chest. She raised her watery eyes frantically, mouth agape, a stunned look plastered on her face.

Jacob finally met her eyes again. Her stunned look gnawed at his hardened heart. He really wanted to hold her, to kiss her lips and hug her tight. He wanted to wipe her tears and carry her in his arms. But he couldn’t just get that image out of his head. Another man had worshipped his beautiful temple. He couldn’t let his hurt fade away so easily. He clung to it.

He shot back a stony expression.

“Don’t touch me. Ever.” He said coldly.

He walked towards the bed, picked up a pillow and made his way to the door. Grabbing the door knob, he looked over his shoulder.

“Abby, you broke me. And I don’t think I can forgive you for that,” he said, his tone dripping with pain.

Without even a glance her way, Jacob walked out, shutting the door with finality.

Abigail covered her quivering lips, pushing her back against the wall. She sunk to the ground, removing whatever restraint she placed on her tears. She brought her knees up and hugged herself tight as she wept.

“God, please help me…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7:00am

Victoria island

Lagos state

It was Saturday. Morning had taken an eternity to arrive. Neither of them had gotten any sleep. Their marriage was over, and there was little that could be done to change that.

Abigail lay on the large bed, her eyes sore from all the crying. Guilt and shame had twisted her insides out. The ceiling had screamed at her all night. Every object in the bedroom had given her a piece of their mind.

Jacob was all she wanted. God had given her a good man. Now, she hurt him. She broke him. Her head pounded, feeling her heart condemn her all over again.

Jacob had passed the night in one of the guest bedrooms. Glancing at the digital clock, he pulled himself out of bed. He got down on his knees to pray, but no words came. His heart felt tight, cramped by all the anger within him. Sighing in defeat, he managed to mutter the Lord’s Prayer and ended it with an unenthusiastic Amen.

He hurriedly put on a t-shirt, his sweatpants, and a pair of Nike trainers. A good run was all he needed at the moment.

Stepping hurriedly through the front porch, he allowed himself bask in the rich golden sun rays. He took a deep breath, watching the beauty of the sunrise over the property.

The multiple bedroom manor stood tall and majestic, screaming luxury and fortune.

It looked like it was lifted from a fancy magazine on houses, aesthetically pleasing and envy provoking.

At 32, Jacob Ukonu was the CEO of one of the fastest growing telecommunication companies in West Africa. He also owned multiple shares in other businesses, thus having multiple streams of income. Having lost his father at an early age, he found himself at the center of responsibility for his family, being the first son.

Fortunately, Time and chance found him at the early stages of his career. He became quite the business prodigy, to the pleasure of his superiors. He had soon reached the pinnacle of his career in record time. His story had been covered countlessly by various magazines, and he had become an inspiration to many.

“Oga good morning o! Kai walahi this my oga I look very good this morning fa! Shebi I dey go am for za gym?”

Jacob looked at Usman and smiled. He always marveled at how free-spirited his gateman was. There had never been a day that Usman wasn’t smiling.

“Yes, Usman. Please, make sure to you wash the cars today, alright? I’ll be back when I can.”

“No worry yourself oga! I go do am well well. Infact, the way the car go shine fa? E no go fit dirty again, walahi,” Usman said dramatically, while scraping a long chewing stick against his front tooth.

Jacob smiled and made his way out. He could feel her gaze from one of the highly placed windows, but he refused to turn. Muttering under his breath, he kept moving.

Abigail watched as her husband jogged down the street, and disappeared out of her sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10:30am

Power zone studios,

Victoria island, Lagos state

Loud hip hop music hit Jacob’s ears as soon as he pushed the door open. The gym hall was quite large, each section bustling with activity. It was a private gym, mostly filled by the elite.

“Ah! My Guy! How far nau?” Clinton greeted from afar off.

Jacob forced a smile and hugged his best friend. They had been inseparable since secondary school. They had both found Jesus together, and waxed strong in Spirit. No matter how tedious their careers were, they always found time to catch up. They often met when they attended bible study and church service at their local assembly.

Clinton was average height with dark skin, having two tribal marks on his right cheek. He had a killer smile with perfect white teeth. He often met up with Jacob and his wife every weekend at the gym along with Ebuwa and Sam; other close friends of Jacob.

“Man, honestly I don’t know. We get talk sha but let me clear my head first,” he said, smiling dryly. Clinton noticed the unease in his countenance, his eyes squinting in suspicion.

“Wey your babe? Abi she dey outside?”

Jacob grimaced. This was not why he came to the gym. He hesitated, his expression waning like a tea bag in hot water. Clinton raised an eyebrow, urging him to respond.

“It’s part of what I would like to talk about…” He managed to say finally.

Clinton nodded slowly, seeing his friend struggle with words. He decided to give him some space.

“Alright man. Whenever you’re ready. Sam is over there at the treadmill. Ebuwa couldn’t make it today though. He has a meeting with a client. I’ll be right here if you need me.” He said reassuringly. He returned to the stool he sat on, picking up a dumbbell.

Jacob sauntered over to the boxing area and picked up a pair of gloves. His attractive physique had caught the attention of a lot of the ladies around. Many feminine eyes feasted on him. He was tall, dark-skinned with a body that looked like it was carved from stone. His beards were neatly carved along his chiseled face. The man was walking eye candy. Not to mention his great fortune.

A lot of times, many women tried to outdo themselves just to catch his attention. Some feigned ignorance on how to use gym equipment when he was around, hoping he’d offer to help. But Jacob never showed any interest. He had eyes for only one, and he was married to her. He would never hurt her. He viewed loving her as service to God.

One of the women that stood out was Rachael. She was a daydream come to life. A beautiful, light skinned woman with brown eyes and a body that made men look thrice. She had her braided hair packed upwards in a yellow scarf that matched her golden shirt. Her tight yoga pants hugged her lower body, revealing her hips and breath-ceasing physique.

Rachael always had a thing for Jacob, but he never bat her an eye-lid. There was just something about the way he moved, talked, and even laughed that made her swoon. She knew he was married, but that was the least of her problems. Even now, as he was brooding, she longed for him to look at her at least once.

Jacob yanked the gloves on with unnecessary force and tightened the straps. The events of the past few days began pouring into his mind as he walked towards the punching bag. He took a stance and began striking the leather bag.

One. One-Two. One-Two-Three. Sidestep. Left Hook.

“Jacob…”

He clenched his teeth, feeling the Lord call him from his heart. He kept punching, his tempo gradually increasing with each strike.

One-Two. One-two-three. Step back. Bounce. Step forward. One-two-three-four.

“Jacob….”

He let out a grunt, the Spirit’s impression growing stronger on his heart. He knew what the Lord would say, but he wasn’t ready to hear it. He wasn’t going to do it.

One. One-two-three-four. One. One-two-three-four. Step back. Bounce. Lean in. Right hook.

He could see the sheets again, and their bodies writhing underneath. He could hear the sound of her laughter, squealing with glee.

One. One-two-three-four. Step back. Lean in. Right hook. Left hook. Uppercut. Left hook. Left hook. Left hook.

He began unleashing on the punching bag. The sound of his fists against the leather began to echo loudly. The desperate creaking from the metal hook it hung by was unheard by Jacob, but it was starting to draw a lot of attention to him. His loud thoughts drowned the voices of his friends beckoning on him to go easy.

“I can help you… let me help you…”

His arms were flailing carelessly now, lost in his brewing emotions. Tears had blurred his vision. His coordinated strikes had become reckless. He didn’t stop until he felt someone restrain him. It was Clinton and his friend Sam.

“Calm down nau, Anthony Joshua. Haba. Wetin happen? The bag no do you anything na,” Sam said, trying to hold him.

Jacob panted heavily, his teary gaze now on his two friends. He looked around and saw many eyes on him. He sniffed, wiping his nose with his forearm. He turned away abruptly, making his way to a secluded area.

Sam and Clinton followed closely, anxious to know what troubled him. They had never seen him so out of control. Anger was certainly a new color on Jacob. Sitting him down, they removed the boxing gloves and offered him water and a clean towel. Meanwhile, Rachael kept watching them from afar, debating whether to go over to him or not.

“Jacob wetin happen? I mean, I knew something was up but I didn’t think it would be this serious,” Clinton said, concern plastered on his face.

“Yeah, I mean, what’s going on man?” Sam chipped in.

Jacob was quiet for a while, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“Bro, we’re your brothers. You’ve always been the one encouraging us when we’re down. You’ve always been the most level-headed amongst us. But I mean, to see you this way is disheartening. Talk to us. Let us help.” Sam added.

Jacob opened the water bottle and poured the tepid liquid over his face, wiping it alongside his tears. He drank some more and exhaled softly, lowering his head.

“Guys, I don’t know if I can survive this…”

Clinton and Sam exchanged looks.

“What do you mean?” Clinton asked. Jacob met his gaze.

“My wife, she cheated on me… and I don’t think I can survive it.” He said, his eyes still glistening.

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Clinton gasped in shock. The three remained silent for a while, wallowing in shared disbelief.

Clinton placed a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, squeezing it in comfort. Jacob tapped it in acknowledgement, grateful for the gesture.

He took in air and filled his lungs. It had been a long two months. He would never forget them in a hurry.

“H-How did this happen?” Sam asked, still shocked.

Jacob released the air in his lungs. A sad smile formed on his face.

“Where do I even begin…”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Disclaimer: The following is a fictional work of literature. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is purely coincidental. The characters, incidents, dialogues and places portrayed in this story are products of the author’s imagination and are not intended to represent real individuals, organizations, or situations.

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