I remember that day we walked down the aisle with Sam like yesterday.
He vowed that only death would do us apart. I never knew football would mark the end of our three years marriage.
Each time I heard there was football match late in the night my heart would skip a beat because I knew he would not come home.
He used to lie to me that he was going to spend the night at his friend’s house until I realized he was seeing the city girl who paints herself with all sorts of colors like Peter Marangi does with Duracoat.
While selling my vegetables at the market, I heard there was a match between Manchester united and Chelsea FC. I sat down and prayed that my husband does not hear this news but seemingly he was the referee.
When I arrived home, he was watching a movie with my son Jim. After serving him a cup of tea, he told me the worst. “Tonight I will not come home. Am going to watch my team play Chelsea,” he said.
I was infuriated to the point that I asked him whether he was married to me or football. He never said a single word and left. That was the last day I saw my husband.