29/11/2025
EPISODE 2
MY MUM IS HAVING S*X WITH MY HUSBAND
If I thought the “moaning massage incident” was the peak of embarrassment…
God was about to show me that life has levels.
For two days after the misunderstanding, things were peaceful in the house.
Kunle was extra gentle.
My mum was extra dramatic about her movements.
“Amara oo, I’m entering the kitchen oh! No suspicious sounds please!”
“Amara, your husband is bent down… should I call 911?”
“Amara, I’m sitting beside Kunle oh—check my hands!”
We all laughed.
Everything looked fine.
But peace in my family has the lifespan of an overripe avocado.
Because on Day 3… something started to shift.
Subtle at first.
So subtle I almost ignored it.
It was the way my husband’s eyes softened whenever he looked at my mum.
Not romantic-soft.
Not inappropriate-soft.
Guilty-soft.
Like he was hiding something small… but important.
And it was the way my mum avoided eye contact with me whenever I entered a room.
She’d suddenly become busy with air.
By evening, even the walls felt tense.
I pulled Kunle aside in our bedroom.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He hesitated — which is unlike him — then sighed and sat on the bed.
“Your mum told me not to tell you,” he said quietly.
My heart dropped.
“Tell me what?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Amara… your mum is planning to leave the house.”
I blinked.
“Leave? Go where?”
“She wants to move to Aunty Oluchi’s place in Surulere. She didn’t want you to think her presence is disrupting our marriage.”
I just stared.
Kunle continued, “She said she feels like a burden. She said she overheard you crying after the misunderstanding, and she doesn’t want to stress you.”
My chest tightened slowly.
Because it was true — I had cried that night.
Not because of her… but because of myself.
Because of how badly I misjudged a harmless situation.
Kunle touched my arm.
“She also said she thinks… you’re uncomfortable having her around.”
I felt something heavy drop inside me.
“That’s not true,” I whispered.
He nodded. “I know. But that’s what she believes.”
I sat down and buried my face in my hands.
I had spent so much time being embarrassed by the misunderstanding that I didn’t realize the impact it had on her.
Kunle said softly, “Your mum loves you. She’s sensitive. She doesn’t want to be where she’s not wanted.”
That cut deep.
“That woman battled sciatica just to be at our wedding,” I murmured. “How did she think she’s not wanted here?”
Kunle shrugged helplessly.
“You should talk to her,” he said.
So later that night, I knocked on her room door.
“Mummy, can we talk?”
She opened the door slowly, her face tired, eyes too bright—like someone who’d been trying not to cry.
“Mummy… why are you leaving?” I asked.
She looked away. “Amara, I’m not young. I know when my presence is too much.”
My throat tightened. “You’re not too much. You’re my mother. This is your home.”
She shook her head. “Ah. A married woman must not inconvenience her husband. I don’t want to be the reason your husband tiptoes around his own house.”
My heart stabbed itself.
“Mummy, Kunle isn’t like that.”
She smiled sadly. “I heard the way you cried that night.”
I froze.
She continued, “I know that cry. The cry of someone wondering how her life became so complicated.”
Tears stung my eyes.
“Mummy that wasn’t—”
“I know,” she said gently. “But I don’t ever want you to choose between your peace and me.”
I sat beside her on the bed, grabbed her hand, and held it tight.
“You’re not leaving,” I said firmly. “Not because I’m forcing you… but because we love having you here.”
She blinked fast. “Even after the… situation?”
I actually laughed. “Mummy, please. It was a misunderstanding. I was tired. My brain was malfunctioning.”
She laughed through tears. “You thought I… and Kunle…”
I groaned and buried my face in her shoulder. “Please let’s not revisit it.”
When she finally hugged me back, something softened.
A wall fell.
A thread rewove itself.
But as we held each other, she whispered something that made me pause.
“Amara… there’s still something your husband hasn’t told you.”
I pulled back slowly.
“What do you mean?”
She bit her lip and looked away.
“Just… talk to him again.”
A cold ripple ran through me.
Because this time, she wasn’t being dramatic.
She wasn’t joking.
She wasn’t throwing playful shade.
My mum looked worried.
Really worried.
And suddenly, I realized…
The misunderstanding was never the real story.
The silence between my husband and my mother was.
Should I drop Episode 3?
