By Jessica-Ken:

MARRIED TO AN ATHEIST – Chapter Four {Full}✍❣



For days Amos ignored me. He slept in the visitor room and avoided me. Our quarrel began when I hadn’t revealed the pregnancy on my own. I had to sleep in the bedroom all by myself, sulking, and wishing that I could talk to him, and even show him how much he hurt me.

“Amos—” the coldness written all over his face made me stop. The ceramic plate in the plate rack caught my eyes, and I shifted, taking it. “You haven’t eaten since morning. . . Are you hungry?” I asked, observing him for a moment.
“No.” he said and left the kitchen.
My heart felt heavy, watching him leave. Cold, shaky, and with my breathing beyond normal, I kept the plate back in the rack and made for the sink—got the water running, and began wetting my face. O yẹ ki o ti sọ fun u…you should have told him, a voice rasped in my head. This is really my fault, I sighed with deep regret, turning and backing the sink. I wished I had told Amos on time, about the pregnancy. Looking down at my stomach, feeling a sharp pain cut across, I bit my underlip and clasped the sink, yelling at my loudest, as Amos and the twins came running. “Babe. Babe, what is it?”
I was too weak to talk, grinding my teeth. The sight of the blood on my straight, house gown made my body congeal. I could only watch as Amos raised me up. “Kowe, bring me my keys!” his voice loudened.
My mind spiraled, and my throat tightened, as I groaned. I was taken to the car, one hand on Amos’ shoulder—taken in, I was made to lie, while my abdomen contracted. “You will be okay, babe.” my husband’s voice caught me, the remaining of it drowning away, as my eyes slowly shut.


The constant beeping of God knows what woke me—and I arose; though weakly—I looked around consciously, making out where I was. A hospital? I panicked, remembering the event that had happened last.
“O ti kọja,”… you passed out. . .Amos’s voice came.
“It was the moment you entered the car,” he narrated in English.
I gaped even more—“Well, what about the baby?” I asked.
He remained silent, and averted his gaze.
“Is he okay?” I’d hoped he was a boy, and he was okay.
“Habibat, you would have to brace yourself for what I am about to tell you.”
A string of worry laced my brows. “What’s wrong?”
“You had a miscarriage—” the news came as a shock.
I began crying, and Amos held me. “Eyi ni gbogbo ẹbi rẹ.” I found myself saying.
I lamented bitterly. “Eyi ni gbogbo ẹbi rẹ—”
“How is this my fault?”
I clenched my teeth. “You ignored me for days and made me worry much,” I said. “You didn’t think for once that your actions would hurt me. . .All you cared about was me not telling you about the pregnancy. I’m sure you’re happy now it’s gone.” I blinked, realizing what I said. “Amos…”
A feeling of sadness—self-hurt—grasped my mind and made me it its slave. “I’m sorry,”
“I’ll be outside.” He left, not looking back.
I’d lost my child, he should understand. Omo wa. . .Our child! Things were taking a different turn, and I certainly didn’t like it.
“The doctor said you’d be discharged in the morning. For now, you have to rest.” A voice got my head lifted. It was him—
“Amos, are you still mad at me?”
His voice was hoarse, and his face turned. “We will have to talk about it when we get home,” a smile relaxed on his face, as he made to leave. “Get some rest.”
“A-are you going somewhere?”
“To buy you something to eat.”
I nodded, and said, “Alright.”


Amos had one attitude that I was starting to hate. Getting angry at the slightest of things. His true form was gradually showing.
I was discharged the next day, and asked not to do anything. At least until I was completely healed. I called mama to come stay with us. . .And that was where the problem began.
“I thought you said your Mom was only staying for a week?”
“My Mom?” I was surprised at the way he addressed her. “Babe, what is really your problem?”
“My problem?” He asked.
“Yes, your problem.” I shrugged, getting in bed with him.
“Well, my problem is, your Mom…” he corrected, “…mama,”
I eyed him for a second before relaxing my head on the pillow. “Unh. Kini nipa rẹ?…hm. What about her?
“She has stayed far too long than we talked,”
I yawned. “So three weeks is far too long for you?” I raised my head slightly, then placed it back on the pillow. With my palm supporting my head atop it, I yawned again, and asked a second time. “So three weeks is far too long…?” I stopped halfway, not completing.
“Yes.” He shrugged, and took up a file from the stool.
“Do you always have to work?”
“Yes.” The hoarseness in his voice could be sensed.
“Unh. Please don’t tell me another quarrel’s coming. Wasn’t it last week we mended?”
The loud hooting of an owl hovered. “Did you hear that?”
“Perfectly.” He didn’t look at me.
I frowned, seeing this, lifting myself up so I’d draw his attention with a kiss.
“Just one,” I pouted my lips.
He pushed me lightly, and I laughed, watching him turn. Dropping his files unconsciously on the stool, he leaned forward and possessed my lips.
“Thanks, baby.” I said and withdrew.
“Oh, no you don’t!” he said, and pulled me back into his arms.
“I thought you weren’t in the mood?”
He kissed me passionately. “When have I ever not been in the mood?” he stared into my eyes, and leant in again. Caressing my cheek, he kissed me so lightly. “Ready for baby…”
Tck—the lights went out.
“NEPA!” we laughed where we were.



A student of the popular Nnamdi Azikiwe university. A Human Anatomy stud—and a passionate writer, with the hope of one day making the world a better place.
~Authoress Ciara

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