She sighed as she shut the door. Rolake had just left. Her best friend had come complaining about her husband and how broke he was, and had questioned why she even married him in the first place. The bruise on Adaora’s arm made her wince in pain, as she glided it against the wall, by mistake. She’d been wearing a long sleeved top to hide the bruises. She rolled up the sleeves. It was still sore and her light skin was now patched and discolored.
They’d had a fight. It wasn’t news, especially to their neighbours who were always forced to listen to the echoes of constant screams and yells. Last night’s had been different though. Perhaps Victor had started hearing it too. The neigbours had started to gossip about them. In fact, the woman who lived in the opposite flat had actually approached her and had asked if everything was alright between her and Victor. Adaora knew that the woman only wanted somegist from the source, so she had smiled and ignored her. She had to do something about it before the news developed wings and reached the ears of social media.
Last night, Victor had turned on the volume of the sound system, probably so that the neigbours wouldn’t hear them as they yelled at each other, vocally and physically. What happened was that Adaora had just returned to the house from an event where she’d been asked to speak to young women. Before then, she had to attend an interview with a radio station, and also she had to go for a photo shoot for her yet-to-be-released motivational book. Getting home, happy and eager to tell her Fiancé about how her day had been, and to probably get a massage and some TLC to ease her nerves, opened up another episode. The cold silence in the flat crept right underneath her skin. She could already feel the tension before Victor even said anything. The look he’d given her as she dropped her purse on the brown carved table beside the door did all the speaking. The music coming from the speakers was loud. She was about telling him to reduce the volume when his words launched at her.
“Why were you not picking up your phone when I called you?” He said, each word flogged by the harshness of his tone.
She frowned, thinking of what to say. She reached for the purse on the table to get her phone but he beat her to it, literally. He’d already thrown the TV remote control at her and it had landed on her shoulder.
“Victor, you have started again! What