It was evening, and as always, the streets of Accra were choked with cars full of people rushing back home after another long day at work. Many of the inhabitants of those vehicles could not wait to get home. Whether it was to get a good rest from the stress of the day, or to return to beloved family, many impatiently endured the rush hour traffic, waiting for the reward of home at the end of the journey.

Of course, not every person on their way home was looking forward to getting home. And Nicky was one of them.

Thoughts swirled in his mind as he sat in his Chevrolet, the radio blaring with Eyewitness News on Citi FM. His attention nowhere near focused on the interview ongoing, he couldn’t shake off the annoyance from his meeting with that lawyer Mr. Boakye. He had returned to the office still hugely peeved, and the anger remained lodged in his chest throughout the day.

“I mean, it’s fantastic, isn’t it? Great, just great. I go to a lawyer expecting him to help me get out of this mess called a marriage, and instead of doing what he’s supposed to do, what does he do? Suggest counselling and tell me nonsense. Mtcheww! Counselling! As if that’s going to solve anything,” Nicky grumbled to himself, shaking his head at the thought of that suggestion.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched as he continued to move along slowly. The cityscape blurred past him, a backdrop to his internal struggle.

He continued muttering to himself. “What does he know about my marriage? Nothing. Does he know how much torment it is to have to stay in the same house as that woman? Anyone who actually made the effort to understand me would know what a hell of a headache it is to spend even two minutes with her! That terrible excuse of a woman! Hoh!”

His frustration with Mr. Boakye continued to morph into resentment, fueling his discontent at the thought about heading back home.

“And now, I have to go back to her – to that nagging, unappreciative mess at home. Just what I needed to complete my wonderful, wonderful day. Only God knows what kind of rubbish I’ll hear when I walk through that door.”

The traffic continued to move at a snail’s pace. Staring at the red brake lights of the car in front of him, his mind replayed the conversation with the lawyer. Particularly those last words.

They really left him pissed as hell. Yeah, maybe the suggestion to lie was offensive. But what else was he supposed to do? He needed to get the hell out of this.

“Give it a chance, you might be surprised,” he mimicked sarcastically. “Like I haven’t given this marriage enough chances. What does he expect, for me to continue drowning in this… this cesspool of misery? Me diɛ, I should be miserable forever? Mtcheww! Chale, for all you know, the man is even lying about that judge not agreeing thingy. After all, it’s their job to give us what we’re searching for.”

As the traffic began to ease up and he started moving quicker, his irritation intensified.

That last sentence dwelling heavily on his mind, he sighed with frustration. “Maybe I should have just insisted on getting the divorce done. Coz honestly, I can’t stand this limbo, this… this nonsensical back-and-forth. I just want out. I need to get out. Fast.”

The radio had switched to soft melodies, but his thoughts continued to drown out its blaring sounds. The looming prospect of returning home to face his wife weighed on him like an anchor.

He glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the weariness of a man caught in the turmoil of his own discontent.

Shaking his head, he murmured to himself, “Chale, I should have stood my ground with the lawyer. I should have let him know I want this divorce, no matter what. But no, I let him get away with suggesting that damn counseling. What a waste of time.”

Thirty minutes later, and the car turned into the familiar neighborhood. Nicky couldn’t escape the feeling of being trapped – between the lawyer’s unwarranted advice and the reality of his crumbling marriage.

The little bungalow he called home loomed ahead. The lights were on, indicating she was home.

The perfect ending to this awful day.

Nicky shook his head as he drove into the parking lot. As he parked the car, Nicky took a deep breath, bracing himself for the evening that awaited him at home.

“Here goes nothing.”

***

She sat at the dining table, surrounded by a sea of papers and reports, her laptop open in front of her. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated her determined expression as she worked on the assignment given to her at work.

Her beautiful, chocolate skin glistened under the warm light, and her slender figure was accentuated by the graceful way she sat, lost in her world of work. There was no doubt about it, Mrs. Winifred Koomson, better known to everyone else as Winnie, was a sparkling dime of a woman, the type of lady many guys would have at the top of their prayer list.

Unfortunately, she found herself bound to one guy she once thought was a wonderful man, but had turned out to be an unpleasant and arrogant jerk.

And as she heard the familiar sound of that Chevrolet pull up into its parking spot, she rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath about her discontent with the man she called her husband.

“Ungrateful. Unpleasant. Terrible man. Doesn’t appreciate anything I do…”

She sighed, the frustration evident in her voice as she scribbled notes on a piece of paper.

The sound of the front door opening interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced up to see Nicky entering, his expression a mix of exhaustion and annoyance. He noticed her demeanour but chose to ignore it, electing to walk to the living room and take a seat.

Heart full of disgust, she sarcastically spat at him. “Oh, good evening to you, too, dearest Mr. Koomson. I hope you had a spectacular day, because mine was splendid. Absolutely splendid. I was just reflecting on how lucky I am to have such a grateful and pleasant husband who knows the basic decency of greeting a person he sees when entering the house.”

His attention switching from the blank TV screen to the face that annoyed him, Nicky’s expression grew even more incensed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s not like you ever notice anything anyway,” Winnie dismissed.

Rising to his feet, he roared, “What do you mean? Huh? What do you mean by that? Ah, can’t I come home and relax without all this gibberish hitting my ears? Ah! I work hard to provide for this family, and all you do is sit there and complain and talk nonsense!”

Winnie also sprung to her feet. “Complain? That’s rich coming from you! When was the last time you even acknowledged my efforts, Nicky? You act like I’m just some maid around here!”

“Maybe if you stopped nagging me all the time, I’d be more appreciative! You’re always on my case about every little thing! Every day, you’ve done this, you’ve done that, harassing my life!”

Not even five minutes had passed since he had entered the house, and the tension in the room had already escalated uncomfortably as they exchanged heated words, each airing their various grievances.

“I nag because you never listen! You don’t care about the woman you claim you love! You’re too busy with your own affairs to even notice what’s going on in this house!” Winnie snarled.

“And whose fault is it that I have to focus on my own matters all the time? If you were more supportive, maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with this stress!”

“Nonsense! You’re there talking about supportive! Do you even know what the meaning of that word is, and you’re throwing it about?”

Nicky threw his hands up in frustration. “You know what? I don’t even know why we bother. I really don’t know why we bother. We’re just making each other miserable.”

Winnie sarcastically shot back at him, “You’re the expert on making people miserable, Nicky.”

The room crackled with tension as they glared at each other, chests heaving with rage.

Nicky shook his head. “I really didn’t need this disturbance, woman. I really didn’t. Can’t you see I’ve had a rough day?”

Winnie crossed her arms and sneered, “Rough day? Try having rough months, Nicky. I’ve been doing everything around here, balancing work with taking care of this house, and what do I get? An ungrateful husband who can’t even acknowledge my efforts. No appreciation whatever!”

Nicky raised his voice. “Appreciative? For what? You don’t even cook anymore.”

“So that you waste it with those your useless excuses of ‘I’m not hungry’ and all that? Please, don’t annoy me, gentleman!”

In a fit of rage, Nicky bellowed, “I can’t stand this anymore! There’s no sense in staying with you!  Nothing at all! You’re just an irritant! A stupid little irritant that won’t stop tormenting my life!”

Winnie yelled back, “Maybe we should just end this, Nicky! Clearly, you’re not invested in making it work!”

“Oh yeah, I will, Winnie! I definitely will! That’s clearly the best thing for both of us.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air as Nicky stormed off to the master bedroom, where he slept alone.

Glaring at his retreating figure, Winnie shook her head, a mixture of anger and hurt evident on her face. This had become the status quo in the Koomson household: any attempt at conversation turned into a screaming contest, with husband and wife doing their level best to be as nasty as possible to each other. This had been going on for months, with no positive end in sight.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before returning to her work. Once she was done exhaling, she slid back into her chair, returning to what she had been engrossed in before he came.

“No use bothering myself with that nonsense excuse of an ingrate husband,” she muttered to herself. “He can do whatever he wants. I’m tired. If he likes, he can go and get a lawyer to start divorce proceedings. I don’t care. All the better. Rubbish and nonsense!”

Well! That was pretty nasty. These two aren’t playing nice with each other at all. How unfortunate…