I realized I needed to keep acting like everything was fine with Chisom until I had solid proof she was cheating. Her recent lie about her panties showed she had no plan to admit anything. I’d have to confront her with the evidence directly.
My job gave me a lot of freedom. I could leave during the day to meet clients or visit job sites without it being odd. Chisom had the same flexibility. She worked in client relations for a PR firm and often went to lunches or business meetings. So, it would be very hard to track her work schedule or find any unusual absences.
I had a college friend named Umar who worked in security and surveillance in Abuja. After a friendly 20-minute chat catching up, he gave me all the advice I needed about equipment. I told him about a project for a client-focused on security and that I needed the latest wireless listening devices. He suggested something even better: using digital technology to record directly to digital audio files that I could upload to my computer and listen to.
Within an hour of our conversation, Umar sent me an email with all the details, prices, and model numbers we talked about. I went to a big electronics store and bought everything I needed.
I went home during the day when the house was empty and set up small audio recorders in different rooms: our bedroom, the spare bedroom, the guest room, my study, the living room, and the kitchen. These recorders were tiny and easy to hide, about the size of a thimble. They were sound-activated, so they would start recording whenever there was any noise or talking in the rooms. The recordings were sent wirelessly to small digital recorders I had hidden in the attic. This way, I could have a recording of any sounds or conversations in the house, whether it was Chisom or me.
Why didn’t I use video? The answer might surprise you. As I kept torturing myself with thoughts of Chisom being with someone else, I realized I didn’t want to actually see it. Just knowing about her cheating was painful enough, hearing it or hearing her talk to her lover would be even worse. I was scared that if I saw them together, I would never be able to forget it. I thought it was better to be haunted by my imagination than to see the real thing repeatedly.
While I was at it, I went through all our bank statements and phone logs. I didn’t find anything suspicious: no unexplained hotel stays, no restaurant charges I didn’t know about, and no frequent calls to unfamiliar numbers, just the usual ones from our friends and family. Chisom had obviously been very careful. I realized I would need to check her purse and put a recorder in her car on top of what I’d already done.
In the meantime, I returned to my office. Feeling both sad and angry, I got through the day without my coworkers noticing my emotions. That evening, after dinner, Chisom and I made our weekly call to our kids. It was tough pretending to be cheerful with them while hiding my sadness.
After Chisom and I went to bed, I stayed quiet until I was sure she was asleep. Then, I went outside and secretly put an audio recorder in her car, which sent signals to a tiny receiver hidden under the spare tire in the trunk. When I got back to the house, I looked through her purse.
To my surprise, I found two phones: her iPhone she always used and a burner phone. This explained why her phone logs didn’t have any unexpected calls. I shook my head, realizing again how careful and systematic Chisom had been in deceiving me.
Each day that week got worse. I pretended everything was okay around Chisom, smiling and acting normal. I even avoided having sex with her by saying I had a lot of work one night and a bad headache another. She probably knew I was still upset but didn’t ask me about it, just acted like a loving wife.
Every night after she fell asleep, I listened to the recordings I had set up in the house and her car. Until Friday night, there was nothing interesting.
That night, I finally got the proof I needed. In the morning, Chisom got a quick phone call in her car, probably on her burner phone. I only heard her part of the conversation, but it told me everything I needed to know.
“Hello? … Hey, babe … Yeah, I bet you have! (laughs) … No, I explained that last Monday … Yes, Kunle hasn’t said anything, but I can tell he’s still thinking about it. I need to wait a bit longer before I can see you again … Of course, I still want to! But I’ve always told you that my marriage comes first, right? … Yes … Uh-huh … Yes, I think next Tuesday will work. But let’s not go to the usual place; I want to be extra careful. … Where? … You mean that place on Adeniyi Jones, Obe street? … Yeah, we’ve been there three times before, but not recently. … OK, babe, Tuesday at 11 am. (laughs again), Yes, I’m sure you’ll be ready! … Me too … OK, bye.”
I sat hunched over in my chair at the computer, looking at the recordings. I wasn’t really surprised since I had found the thong, but seeing the proof still broke my heart. Chisom was cheating on me and had been for a while. She was regularly having sex with another man in different positions that only God knew.
Based on what she said in the recording, she must have called him the Monday after we talked about her thong on Sunday and told him I was getting suspicious, so they needed to lay low for a bit. Clearly, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. It was a long-term affair that had been going on for months, or maybe even years.
That weekend was really tough for me, but the worst part was a party on Saturday night with some of our friends, who are also busy working parents like us, so we don’t see them often. Chisom and I moved around the party, sometimes together and sometimes apart, and our friends greeted us warmly. They were happy to see us and wanted to know how we were doing. Talking about the usual things like work and the kids felt especially sad to me. I wanted to tell someone, “Actually, I’m not doing well. Chisom is seeing someone else and won’t talk to me about it, and I’m really upset. But how are you doing?”
On Monday morning, I left work and drove down to Obe Street, Adeniyi Jones. I saw the hotel that Chisom had told her lover about. Seeing it confirmed my belief that placing a listening device in Chisom’s purse would capture everything that happened inside.
That night, after Chisom had fallen asleep, like I often do, I took her purse to my study. I carefully attached a tiny wireless microphone underneath it. She wouldn’t find it unless she emptied her purse and looked for it on purpose.
I checked all the listening devices and recorders in her house and car again. However, I didn’t find anything suspicious or incriminating. Chisom had already arranged to meet her lover during their Friday phone call and didn’t risk communicating further.
Chisom’s rendezvous was scheduled for Tuesday at 11 AM. A bit after 11, I left work and drove to Obe Street again. Her car was parked in front of the hotel, just as expected. Although I wasn’t surprised, I still felt upset. I took a moment to write down the license plate numbers of the cars next to hers, just to be cautious.
That evening, I watched Chisom closely. I wondered if she could hide any signs of cheating from me. When she came home, she looked calm and refreshed, probably because she had showered at the hotel, she didn’t rush upstairs for a shower. Her eyes were bright, her face lively and colorful, and she seemed genuinely happy to see me. But despite all this, I couldn’t shake the disbelief that this person I loved could be unfaithful to me.
That evening, I grilled food and we ate outside on the deck, enjoying the nice summer night. I was just as distracted as I had been the past few nights, wondering if Chisom would bring up the topic. She didn’t, probably thinking it was best not to talk about something as serious as cheating. I believe she thought she had calmed my suspicions, but she wasn’t going to risk anything more.
While we were cleaning up in the kitchen, she came over and put her arm around my waist. “Hey, will you come to bed early with me tonight? I really enjoy these days when the kids are at my parents’ place, and we can fuck whenever we want. Lately, you’ve turned me down twice.” She said this last part with a seductive smile.
Normally, I would have been hard instantly. But I was certain that she had been with her lover barely 10 hours ago. Her invitation just made me irritated. How could she play with my feelings like this? Did she think I wouldn’t notice?
Trying to stay calm and hide my feelings, I calmly said, “I’m sorry, honey. There’s a big presentation early tomorrow for a new project, and I have to finish it tonight. How about we plan for tomorrow night instead, alright?” I could tell she didn’t believe my reason. I could see she was about to argue more before deciding against it. She definitely didn’t want me to bring up my suspicions about her cheating again.
So all she said was, “OK, sweetheart. I’ll go watch some TV before bed. If you get done and I’m still awake, you come running on up to me, promise?”
I stayed downstairs, doing some work while waiting for Chisom to fall asleep on her own. By midnight, she was sound asleep, as I could hear her breathing regularly from outside her bedroom door. I went to her car, retrieved the recording from earlier that day, came back to my study, closed the door, inserted it into the computer, and played it back.
Even then, I still had a small bit of hope. Maybe I was mistaken about everything in some wild way, and it was just my imagination running wild. Chisom had shown so much love and warmth, could she really be cheating on me?
“After hearing the beginning of the recording, all hopes that were left vanished.”
I first heard Chidom talking on her cell phone in her car. She had a regular work call, then a few minutes later, he called her, and I heard her talking to him on the phone.
“Hi there! Hey, sweetie. Yes, me too. Are you there now? I can’t wait! It feels like forever. You’ll have to wait to see what I’m wearing (with a giggle). I picked it out just for you! Well, maybe you’ll be taking it off me too. Alright, in a few minutes. Bye.”
This wasn’t surprising since it just confirmed the previous call where they had scheduled their meeting. But what happened next was far worse, much worse.
I heard her park, turn off her car, get out, and lock it. Then I heard a few gentle knocks on a door, followed by the sound of a long, deep kiss as the door closed. A man’s voice said, ‘Wow, I really needed that!’ There were a couple more kisses, and then he said, ‘Come inside so I can see you. You look absolutely stunning!”
Chisom, my Chisom, responded to him, teasingly. In a flirtatious tone, she said, “I bet you tell this to every girl, big guy. Can you prove it? Or are you just all talk?” Then she laughed out loud, and I could hear them kissing and hugging, whispering sweet nothings to each other.
Chisom exclaimed eagerly, “I’m so wet, take your clothes off and come to bed!” I heard clothes being removed and the bed creaking as one or two people lay down on it.
Chisom exclaimed, “Wow, it’s so big and strong!” She continued, “I can see you missed me! Let me taste it.”
The man responded, “Only if I can taste you too. ” The conversation ended, replaced by the sounds of kissing, licking, and moaning from both of them.
I stopped the recording, leaned back, and looked up at the ceiling. For more than a week, I’d been wishing, hoping, and trying to convince myself it wasn’t true. I felt like my whole life had been shattered. I had clung to a tiny hope that maybe I was mistaken.
Now, that hope was gone. The marriage that brought me so much joy and pride, that made me so happy, turned out to be a sham. The woman I loved deeply, to whom I gave all my love and trust, betrayed me in the worst possible way, she was fucking another man.
I didn’t see the reason to keep listening, but I continued anyway. Let me be clear: I’m not someone who imagines or enjoys the idea of my wife being fucked by someone else. Every sound they made, every sign of her enjoyment or his, every creak of the bed, every loving word, felt like a stab in my heart. I felt no joy, no thrill, just a sense of sadness and emptiness.
They kept sucking each other for a while. Then he said, “Oh, mami, I’m about to cum!” It seems she didn’t stop, because a little later he moaned, “Oh, oh, fuck, babyyyy, oh, ohhh fuck!” After a moment, he relaxed and said, “Baby, you’re something else. That was so good!”
She giggled and told him, “I enjoyed it too, Chike. Can you now continue from where you stopped?” He started sucking her pussy again, and I could hear her soft moans, the little moans and sighs that used to be special moments in our lovemaking. Soon, she reached climax too, screaming, “Oh, Chike, yes, right there! Yes, yes, I’m cumming!” Within minutes she too was cumming, saying, “that’s it Chike—oh, right there! right there! Yes, yes, Chikeeee!!”
“Oh, Chike, nobody makes me feel like you do!” she said to him, which hurt me deeply. “Let me savor this moment, then I want you to fuck me,” she added with a laugh. He responded playfully, exploring her body with enthusiasm. Seeing them so intimate with each other, not just physically but emotionally, was the deepest hurt for me.
It was clear they had been in a romantic relationship for a long time and were very comfortable with each other. What bothered me even more was that he called her “mami,” a nickname I used with her, especially in bed. Did she suggest that to him?
He didn’t seem to have any trouble getting aroused again, because within a few minutes they were having sex. From their conversation, I could tell he started on top, then she took over and rode him until she climaxed.
After that, he turned her over and continued to fuck her from behind for a long time. By then, Chisom was relaxed and happy, having had two orgasms. She lay comfortably, and let him enjoy himself. As he was about to cum, she started talking dirty to him, “That’s it, baby, keep going, fill my pussy up. Yes, I can feel you deep inside me. Cum inside me, Chike.”
He came with a loud groan, then they settled into each other’s arms on the bed. After that, they went quiet for a while. I heard the sound of the shower. They must have been showering together because I heard their voices but couldn’t make out any words.
Their voices became audible when they returned to the room and got dressed. What hurt the most was the familiarity with which they spoke to each other and how comfortable they were together.
This wasn’t just a casual encounter; Chike was more than that. He was my wife’s lover, someone she had opened up to, someone she shared intimate moments with, not just physically, but emotionally too. They didn’t just have sex. They held each other, they showered together. In every way that mattered, she was with him as she should have been only with me.
When Chisom went to leave, they kissed goodbye. “Bye, sweetie,” she said. “You really made my day!”
“Mami, when can we see again?”
“I’m not sure, Chike. It all depends on when Kunle calms down. He’s been in a bad mood lately, clearly still thinking about me. I have to be cautious for now. Give me a call by the end of the week, and I’ll update you on the situation.”
“Sure, babe,” Chike responded. “Seeing you only once in a while isn’t enough. I feel lonely without you.”
“And horny?” she answered with a laugh.
“Well, yes, that too,” he confessed.
“Listen, Chike,” Chisom said seriously. “You’ve always known where my priorities lie. My marriage comes first for me. I won’t do anything to hurt Kunle, no matter how much I enjoy being with you.”
I paused the recording in disbelief. “You won’t do anything to hurt Kunle indeed.” Well, Chisom, you done fucked up. What about trying to get me into bed tonight, right after fucking Chike earlier?”
Chike said to Chisom, “I understand. Please give him as much assurance as you can. I want us to meet more often than just once a week or two weeks.”
Once again, she teased him by asking, “Are you sure you have the energy for that, boy?”
“Chike chuckled and said, ‘Yes, I do.’ After one last long kiss, she probably went to her car. I heard the engine start and then the sound of driving. That’s all that was on the recording.”
I was in my study. It was 3:45 in the morning. I glanced around the room absentmindedly, not focusing on anything, but feeling the weight of my broken marriage. I sat there for about thirty minutes, not moving much, lost in my thoughts.
I woke up and realized I needed to get ready for the upcoming confrontation. I thought to myself, “This marriage is over, I need to start getting ready to end it.” I returned to the computer and put together a new recording of Chisom’s first phone call with Chike and some parts of their activities in a hotel room. I saved that recording on a tape, hid it in a bottom drawer, and then went to bed.
Written by Sixtie 9ine
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