I bought her pant. I bought her bra. I treated her like the daughter I couldn’t have because my womb has been closed for seven years.

When my husband brought her from the village, he told me, “This is Chidera, my distant cousin. Her parents are dead, and she has nobody. Let her stay with us and help you around the house.”

I welcomed her with open arms. I was lonely in that big house. My husband travels a lot for business, sometimes spending two weeks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my empty womb.

Chidera became my companion. She was respectful, quiet, and very hardworking.

I didn’t treat her like a maid. I treated her like a sister. When I bought lace for myself, I bought for her. When I made my hair, I paid for hers. I even enrolled her in a catering school because she said she liked cooking. I wanted her to have a future.

I told my husband, “Honey, this girl is a blessing to me. She makes me forget my sorrow.” He would just smile and say, “I’m glad you like her.”

I didn’t know I was feeding the snake that would bite me.

Three months ago, I started noticing changes. Chidera was sleeping too much. She was spitting in the gutters early in the morning. Her chest was getting full. I am a woman; I know the signs of pregnancy even though I haven’t experienced it myself.

I sat her down one evening. I was shaking. I asked, “Chidera, who touched you? You are under my roof. If you are pregnant, you have to tell me.”

She started crying. She knelt down and held my legs. She wouldn’t speak. She just kept saying, “Auntie, please forgive me.”

I was angry. I thought she had gone to sleep with one of the jagged boys in the area. I called my husband immediately. I screamed on the phone, “You need to come home! Your cousin has brought shame to us! She is pregnant!”

My husband said he was coming home the next day. He sounded calm, which surprised me. I expected him to flare up.

When he arrived, I dragged Chidera to the living room. I said, “Tell him! Tell your brother who is responsible for this!”

Chidera looked at my husband. My husband looked at Chidera. The room was silent.

Then my husband cleared his throat and said, “Babe, sit down.”

I refused to sit. “Sit down for what? Send this girl back to the village!”

He stood up, walked to where Chidera was kneeling, and pulled her up. He put his hand around her shoulder. My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

He said, “She is not going anywhere. She is carrying my son.”

I laughed. I thought it was a joke. “Your son? How? Did you sleep with your cousin?”

He looked me in the eye, bold like a lion, and dropped the bomb that destroyed my life.

“She is not my cousin. She is my wife. I married her traditionally four years ago in the village. My mother and my sisters were there. Everyone knows except you.”

He didn’t stop there. He continued, “I brought her here because you couldn’t give me a child. I didn’t want to bring a child from outside that you would maltreat. I wanted you to love her first so that when the baby comes, you will accept the child. And look, you already love her. You trained her. You fed her. So why are you angry now?”

I fell into the sofa. I couldn’t breathe.

The betrayal was not just the marriage. It was the deception. For four years? He made me act as a “Big Auntie” to his wife? He made me use my own money to train his wife? He watched me cry about my infertility while he had a fertile wife in the guest room?

I looked at Chidera. She couldn’t look me in the eye. The “innocent” girl I loved. She knew. Every time I cried to her about wanting a baby, she knew she was the one blocking me.

My husband says I am being unreasonable. He says, “We can be a happy family. You have the money, she has the children. You can adopt her child.”

I packed my bags that night. I am currently in a hotel.

My pastor is telling me to go back and fight for my home. My mother is telling me to divorce him.

But I feel used. I feel like a fool. I feel like my kindness was used as a weapon against me.

Please, what kind of wickedness is this? How does a human being plan this kind of evil for years?

I want to leave, but I am 42 years old. Starting over scares me. But staying there with that girl and her baby… I might poison them.

I don’t know what to do.