Keywords: and She Got Married, Love, and Some things like it, Ade, Chichi, Marriage, Husband, Church, Submission, Pastor, Violence, Alpha Male, Pregnancy, Family, Desperation, Control, Freedom, Read Free Stories online.
Ade’s voice resonated through the church, a gentle harmony that filled the air with peace. But then he saw her. She slipped into the back pew, and for a moment, everything else faded away. She moved with an effortless grace, like a wingless angel. Average height, fit, and with a face that seemed to glow, even beneath the artificial cascade of hair that fell over her shoulders. In that instant, Ade felt something stir deep within him. She was the one—his missing rib, the piece of him he’d been waiting for. For the first time in years, he found himself praying for the service to end, so he could meet the woman who had suddenly become the centre of his world.
Chichi was in her mid-twenties, and the tick of the clock was growing louder with each passing day. Her friends were all married, settling into lives she felt slipping through her fingers. Men came and went, often leaving her with the same complaint: she was too much to handle. The fear of crossing into her thirties alone gnawed at her, so she took her mother’s advice. She buried her true self deep and wore the cloak of submissiveness like armour. That Sunday, in a church far from home where no one knew her, she hoped to find a fresh start.
Ade was a sight for sore eyes—handsome, well-built, especially for a church boy. Chichi couldn’t help but be drawn to him. He was cute, and after a few dates, she saw something different in him, something she wasn’t sure she liked. His beliefs were rigid, his ideals a throwback to an era long past. He found women in power distasteful, whether in politics or the pulpit, and believed a wife should bow completely to her husband’s will, never daring to raise her voice. He quoted Paul and Timothy with fervour, his eyes gleaming as he spoke of submission. Chichi smiled and nodded along, hiding her true thoughts behind a mask of compliance. Ade was the embodiment of the Traditional Christian Alpha male—her soon-to-be husband.
For Ade, Chichi was perfection. The woman he had prayed for. When he nervously asked if she was a virgin, she lowered her eyes, feigning remorse as she confessed she wasn’t but assured him of her celibacy since finding Christ four years ago. Her honesty satisfied him, though the thought of not being her first gnawed at him. But he pushed the worry aside, content in the secret they now shared.
Chichi, on the other hand, smiled inwardly, pleased with her deception. ‘I won’t have to sleep with this foolish alpha male until we’re married,’ she thought, her stomach turning at the mere idea.
Months passed, and Ade introduced her to his parents. His mother’s eyes narrowed, sensing something amiss, but Chichi played her role flawlessly. She passed every test with ease—cooking, cleaning, even the respectful kneel as she greeted them. Two months later, the wedding bells chimed at Chichi’s family church, binding them together as husband and wife, married.
The day after they were married, Chichi shed her cloak of submission. At first, the changes were small, almost imperceptible, but soon, the real Chichi emerged. She had promised to quit her job, but when Ade brought it up, she skilfully convinced him otherwise, quoting Proverbs 31 to support her argument. When he persisted, she ran to their pastor, tears in her eyes, and the pastor, unsurprisingly, took her side.
Chichi played the dutiful wife to perfection. She made sure Ade had food on the table every morning before he left for work and every evening when he returned. On weekends, she kept the house spotless, did the laundry, and shopped like the model wife. In public, she was the epitome of respectfulness, never a harsh word about her husband, and a regular face at church.
But Ade’s initial infatuation began to wane. He started to see flaws where once there had been none. Chichi, ever the strategist, would run to the pastor, tears streaming down her face, painting Ade as the villain who was making her feel worthless. It wasn’t long before Ade confronted her about it. She smirked, a subtle challenge in her eyes, and said, “Since I’m just a woman, and my opinions mean nothing to you, it’s better that a man of God talks some sense into you.” Her mockery was thinly veiled, but Ade swallowed his pride, brushing it off. True to form, Chichi called the pastor right after, letting him know that Ade didn’t want her to involve him in their affairs anymore.
The tension escalated. Ade pulled out of the choir, citing stress and responsibilities. Surprisingly, Chichi’s church attendance became less frequent as well. She no longer reported him to the pastor and joined him in playing truant. On the Sundays they skipped church, she made their home a haven, a slice of heaven where they could pretend all was well.
Two years passed. Ade was no longer the devout man he once was, but his beliefs about women remained unchanged. They were still childless, a fact that gnawed at him. Chichi, on the other hand, had climbed the ranks at her job, her pay cheque now surpassing his. When she excitedly told him about her promotion, jealousy clouded his happiness. He wanted a child, but more than that, he saw the opportunity to make her quit her job if she became a mother.
His frustrations grew, bubbling over into complaints about everything. Chichi, sensing the shift, decided it was time to stop playing nice. Her sharp retorts caught Ade off guard, and the first time she snapped at him, he was stunned. But she didn’t stop.
When he complained about her cooking, she told him to leave the food if it didn’t suit his taste. Eventually, she stopped cooking for him altogether, suggesting he find his meals elsewhere. His criticisms of her washing were met with a challenge to do it himself, and she threatened to stop if he didn’t ease up.
Chichi had taken control of their home, and Ade despised it. She informed him of her whereabouts when she left the house, but his orders not to go out fell on deaf ears. Her style of dressing remained unchanged, and he began to wonder if she knew she was a married woman. Suspicion gnawed at him—was she having an affair with her boss? His doubts and despair led him to a bar, where he found solace in alcohol.
Three years into their marriage, Ade’s frustration reached a boiling point. After a plea to his mother for help, they found a semblance of peace. They even made love for the first time in what felt like forever. But one night, after drinking himself into a stupor, Ade returned home in the early hours, his mind clouded with alcohol and dark thoughts.
Chichi had stayed up all night, worry gnawing at her. When she heard his car pull into the driveway, relief was quickly replaced by anger. As he staggered toward the door, she made a decision. If she let this slide, he’d think he could get away with it again. When he knocked, she refused to open the door, leaving him out in the cold.
In the morning, Ade was furious. He stormed into the house, demanding an explanation. “Didn’t you hear me knocking, woman?” he shouted.
Chichi raised her hands in mock surrender. “Don’t start with me, Ade.” Their argument escalated, insults flying back and forth like daggers. He called her heartless; she called him a fool. He accused her of witchcraft, and she labelled him a weakling deluded by alpha male fantasies. But it was his final insult that cut the deepest—he called her a prostitute, accusing her of sleeping with her boss to get ahead.
Chichi’s laughter was sharp, a weapon in itself. “Look at this bastard, calling me a prostitute! Better go and ask your mother who your real father is.”
The words hit Ade like a sledgehammer. His response was instant—a slap that echoed through the room. Chichi, stunned but not cowed, retaliated, slapping him twice as hard and calling him a bastard.
Ade’s world tilted. A woman had dared to slap him, to challenge his authority. His ego, bruised and bleeding, demanded retribution. He lunged at her, pushing her to the ground. As he prepared to strike, she grabbed his leg, pulling him down with her. In a flash, she was on top of him, raining blows on his face.
Ade was momentarily stunned. The reality of a woman overpowering him, hitting him, was something he couldn’t comprehend. But he wasn’t done. He struck back, his knee connecting with her ribs, and with a savage head-butt, he knocked her to the side. In a rage, he began to strangle her.
Chichi’s vision blurred as she gasped for air. With the last of her strength, she clawed at his throat, her nails digging into his Adam’s apple. Ade released his grip, clutching his neck. She punched him in the ribs, pushing him off her, and scrambled to her feet, searching for something, anything, to defend herself. But Ade wasn’t finished.
He grabbed her leg, pulling her back down. This wasn’t over. When he looked into her eyes, he realized something had changed. The woman he married was gone, replaced by someone he no longer recognized. And in that moment, Chichi saw the same in him—a monster she needed to vanquish before he killed her.
In a final act of desperation, she grabbed the side table and, with all her might, brought it crashing down on the back of his head.
As Chichi felt the weight of her husband’s body dragging her down, the room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with tension. Her heart pounded as she reached for the side table, a desperate act of survival. With a surge of adrenaline, she lifted it, and as Ade lunged toward her, she swung it with all the force she could muster.
The sound of the impact was muted by the silence that followed. Time seemed to stop, holding its breath as blood trickled from Ade’s head onto her trembling chest. The table slipped from her grasp and hit the floor with a dull thud that went unnoticed. The only sound that filled the room was the frantic beating of their hearts, syncing in a moment of violence and vulnerability.
When time finally resumed its relentless march, Chichi’s breath hitched. “What have I done?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Panic surged through her as she scrambled to sit up, cradling Ade’s head in her lap. Her fingers trembled as she checked for signs of life, relief washing over her when she felt his shallow breaths. But fear quickly replaced that relief, fear that those breaths could stop at any moment.
Fighting back the rising tide of dread, she gently placed a cushion beneath his head. Her hands shook as she reached for her phone, her voice quavering as she called for help—first the hospital, then the police.
A week later, Ade lay in a hospital bed, surrounded by his family. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the aftermath of a story that had already spread beyond its walls. Chichi entered, holding a brown envelope that felt like the weight of all her regrets. She greeted them, her eyes lingering on Ade’s mother, who glared back with a mixture of disdain and accusation. Ignoring the woman’s scowl, Chichi approached Ade’s father, handing him the envelope.
“When he wakes up, please have him sign it,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. “We’ll be out of each other’s lives for good.”
Ade’s father looked at her, the words he wanted to say dying in his throat as he glanced at his wife and son. Finally, he nodded, his expression unreadable. Chichi turned to leave, her bruised face a testament to the battle she had fought, both within and without. The swelling was almost gone, but the pain lingered.
As she walked out the door, she felt a strange sense of clarity. She had spent a week in reflection, coming to terms with the choices that had led her here. Desperation had driven her into marriage, but now she realized that freedom was more valuable than the facade she had tried to maintain. Being single no longer frightened her; in fact, the solitude of the past week had been the most peaceful time she’d had in years.
And then there was the child growing inside her, a secret she would guard until the baby was born. It was her decision to make, her life to live. Ade would never know—this child would be hers, and hers alone.
The End