Zainab arrived, and so did the weight of every bad decision Ham has ever made.

The doorbell rang. A soft, confident chime.

Ham didn’t move at first. He sat at the edge of the sofa, staring at the door like it was something alive.

Another chime. He stood slowly and walked across the marble floor in bare feet, and opened the door.

Zainab was standing there, a robe tied loosely at the waist, high heels clicking on the stone step behind her. As soon as she saw him, she let the robe slip from her shoulders, slow, effortless.

She was wearing a black lingerie. Lace. Fitted. Dark against her golden skin, her curls pulled into a high puff that crowned her like mischief.

Ham drew in a sharp breath.

She smiled.

“You like what you see?” she said, stepping forward. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”

He didn’t answer.

“We need to talk,” he said instead, voice low.

Zainab laughed. Light, lazy, unconcerned. She draped her arms around his neck and leaned in, pecking his cheek. A smudge of red lipstick bloomed on his skin.

“If you wanted to talk,” she whispered, “you would’ve called me for lunch, not a midnight reunion. We’ll talk later.”

Her hand slid under his t-shirt, slowly caressing him softly.

Ham caught her wrist.

“Calm down,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Fine,” she said breezily, but turned toward the kitchen instead. “I need a drink first.”

She moved like she owned the place, heels tapping across polished wood. She opened a cabinet, grabbed two wine glasses, found the bottle she liked without asking, poured herself two fingers, then poured into the second glass.

Ham watched her.

“I’m not drinking,” he said.

Zainab turned, wine in both hands. “You know you like it better when you’re tipsy.”

“Stop,” he said, sharper than intended.

Something flickered in her eyes. A pause.

He took a breath. “Just go up.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll join you in the room.”

She smiled again. The old smile, the one that used to work.

She walked past him, hips swaying, then disappeared up the stairs.

Ham stood still.

Every muscle in his chest was tight. His jaw clenched. His hands were shaking and he didn’t know why.

Maybe he did.

His phone buzzed again.

Shem.

Ham shook his head. “He doesn’t give up, does he?”

He answered.

“Brother,” he said, voice flat.

“Ham,” Shem said immediately. “What is wrong with you? What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Ham snapped. “Like what?”

“You’ve ignored Mutale. The poor girl’s there by herself, worried, you got her pregnant and,”

“She’s not pregnant anymore,” Ham cut in. “And I just sent her money. She’s fine.”

“You think everything’s about money?” Shem’s voice rose. “The girl is your wife, Ham. A woman needs attention. A woman who just lost a child needs affection, not just cash.”

Ham’s voice hardened. “You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I don’t,” Shem said. “Because if you did, you’d be doing the right thing. I asked you before, are you sure? Do you want this marriage? You rushed. Now you’re hiding. Classic Ham.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child.”

“Well, you’re acting like one.”

Ham stepped into the hallway, teeth grinding. “You think you’re better than me because you quote scriptures and give advice?”

“No. I’m your older brother, and I had better tell you the truth before you mess things up. Be a man. A man owns his responsibility without excuses. You put a ring on her finger. I was there. I saw and heard you say the vows. In sickness and in health, forever and ever. You swore your promises without a gun to your head, so you don’t get to disappear now because you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

Ham said nothing.

Shem continued. “You think I don’t know you? I know the signs. This is you, running, letting guilt eat you from the inside until you destroy everything around you.”

Ham took a slow breath. “Thank you, big brother.”

“You’re not a boy anymore, Ham. Start acting like the man I know you can be.”

Ham ended the call.

The screen went dark.

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Upstairs, he heard her voice.

“Ham,” Zainab called softly, “I’m waiting.”

He sighed.

Ham stepped into the bedroom.

Zainab was already at the door, waiting like a lover in a movie scene. Before he could say a word, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, burying her face into the curve of his neck.

“Oh God,” she whispered, her breath hot against his skin. “I missed you. I missed your body.”

Her hands slid around his waist, up under his shirt. 

Ham gently pushed her back. “Zainab… I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now.”

Zainab blinked. Then tilted her head.

“What?”

“I mean it. I’m not in the headspace,”

She stepped closer, pressing herself against him. “You called me at midnight, Ham. You don’t get to turn me down after that. You know me. You know how I am. How needy I get.”

“I—”

“Shh,” she said, pecking his lips quickly. “Don’t overthink it. I’ll do all the work.”

Her hands moved again, sliding under his shirt, lifting it up.

His phone rang.

Ham froze.

“Please,” he said, untangling from her. “Just give me a second.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket.

Mutale.

Zainab frowned. “Who’s calling you at this time?”

Ham raised a finger. “Just, quiet for a second.”

The phone kept ringing. Zainab crossed her arms.

“It can wait,” she said. “We can do this all night, but you need to do what you called me here for.”

She tried to kiss him again.

The phone kept vibrating in his hand.

Zainab reached for it. “Fine. I’ll pick it. I’ll tell whoever it is to leave you alone till tomorrow.”

Ham’s eyes widened. “Zainab, don’t you dare.”

He grabbed the phone from her hand.

She laughed, lifting her palms in mock surrender. “I was joking. Relax.”

Ham stared at her for a long second.

Then, he said “Please leave.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I’m sorry. Just… leave.”

“If I leave now, I’m not coming back.”

Ham nodded slowly. “I know.”

She stepped back, lips parted like she might say something else. Instead, she walked to the wine bar, poured herself a tall drink, and downed it in one long gulp.

“You’re mad,” she said flatly.

Then she left the room.

Ham stood frozen, phone in hand. He heard the front door slam one minute later.

And still… the phone rang.

He answered.

“Hey, Mutale,” he said.

“Are you still training?” she asked.

Ham closed his eyes. “Yes, actually.”

“Stop lying to me,” she snapped. “It’s 1 a.m., Ham. What kind of training is that? What do you take me for?”

He said nothing.

“I’m not angry,” she continued, “I’m irritated. Why are you avoiding me? I’m not some cheap girl who forced herself into your life. I’m your wife. It may not be what we planned, maybe it’s unconventional, but I’m still your wife. You cannot abandon me without talking to me. I feel weird. I feel alone. I don’t know what to do.”

Ham’s throat was dry.

“My career is on hold,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m processing my visa to come to you. You sent me a message saying it’ll be done soon. Well, newsflash, it’s done already.”

He looked up, alarmed. “Wait, really?”

“David already sent me the documents,” she said. “I was calling to ask what’s next. But you wouldn’t know, because you’re not even checking. Or maybe… maybe you’re hoping the visa doesn’t come.”

“Mutale, I—”

“Well, newsflash number two: I can book a ticket to England tomorrow if I want. The question is, do you want me to?”

Ham’s heart thudded.

He scratched his head. “God… I didn’t know. I’m sorry. It’s been crazy here, I’ve been…”

“When we were just friends, you were still training. You were still busy, but you called at least once a week. We talked. We shared. This past month? I can count maybe two half baked conversations. Two.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m coming,” she said, firm now. “This week. My bags have been packed. I’ve been waiting, but I’m not waiting anymore. Make the arrangements, I am coming.”

He swallowed. “Okay. We’ll figure this out.”

“And when I come,” she added, “if you still don’t want me, say so to my face.”

“Calm down,”

She was crying now. He could hear it.

“Please don’t cry,” he said gently. “Please.”

“Ham… marriage is for better or for worse to me. I can’t even say the word divorce. I don’t believe in it. But we have to talk. We have to figure this out together. I’m tired of running to Shem for comfort. I want to run to you.”

He closed his eyes.

“I know you probably don’t love me,” she whispered. “But maybe you’ll learn. Maybe I’ll learn too. We already love each other like brother and sister. How hard can it be to learn the rest?”

He sighed, deeply.

“You know the love part will never be the problem,” he said. “I probably have had feelings for you since I was ten.”

“So what is the problem, Ham?”

“I’m the problem,” he said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But you know what, it’s fine. David will book your flight. You’ll come to me and we’ll figure this out.”

“I hope so,” she said.

And just then.

A voice from behind:

“Ham, I’m back,” Zainab called sweetly.

Silence on the phone.

Mutale’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Who is that?”

Ham turned, heart pounding. He put a finger to his lips, motioning to Zainab. “Shhh.”

“Who is it, Ham?” Mutale asked again.

He tried. “That’s… that’s the housekeeper.”

Zainab laughed behind him. “I’m not the housekeeper. I’m the girlfriend.”

“What?” Mutale’s voice cracked.

“I can explain…” Ham started.

But the line went dead.

The expression on his face was wild enough to send Zainab running off before he could even say anything. 

MUTALE   

The phone dropped from her hand.

She didn’t even try to catch it.

“Girlfriend,” she whispered. “Wow.”

The room felt too quiet all of a sudden. Too still. She could hear her own breath quicken as the tears rose uninvited. Her body shook as she stood, turned, and sat down again.

“Ham has a girlfriend,” she said, louder this time. “And I’ve just been here, thinking maybe he’s stressed, maybe he’s grieving. Maybe I am the problem. Oh God…”

Her hands flew to her head.

“I’ve ruined my life.”

She buried her face into her palms.

“I don’t even know him,” she said, the words coming out between broken sobs. “I don’t know what kind of man he is. I thought I did. And now I’m just… here.”

She fell forward, knees on the carpet, forehead pressed to the floor.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “I’ve messed up.”

The tears came freely now.

“I’ve messed up.”

She didn’t try to stop them. Her shoulders heaved, her body collapsing under the weight of guilt, confusion and betrayal. And in the middle of it, undignified and desperate, she prayed.

“Jesus… rescue me. Please. Rescue me. Help me get out of this situation that I put myself in. Please.”

She could hardly form the words, but they came. Over and over. She wept into the silence until sleep wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. She never made it to the bed.

The next morning, she woke up with the light already cutting through the curtains.

Her body ached.

She sat up slowly, wiping her face.

The clock read 9:07 a.m.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “How did I sleep this long?”

Her phone was buzzing beside her.

She blinked and picked. It was Grace.

She answered.

“Hello?”

“Ha! Finally. We’ve been waiting since eight,” Grace said. “The meeting with the community leaders?”

Mutale groaned. “I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m going through a lot. No excuse, really. Just give me a second, I’ll be with you.”

“Too late,” Grace said. “They’ve gone. But I’m already here. In fact, I’m at your gate.”

The line cut before Mutale could respond.

Seconds later, Grace pushed the door open.

She stepped in, surveying her friend’s crumpled clothes and tired face.

Mutale stood. “Were they angry?”

Grace shook her head. “Uh-uh. There’s a reason you hired me, remember? You’re going to London soon. I’m the one who’ll handle these things. No issue.”

Mutale looked down, voice softer now. “I’m just going through a lot, if not, I should have been there. I am still in Zambia.”

Grace walked over and held her.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Mutale whispered. “I don’t know why I rushed into marriage with him.”

Grace frowned. “Eh? What do you mean? You and that guy have been best friends forever. People always say, marry your friend. Yeah, it was fast, but it’s not like it came out of nowhere.”

Mutale shook her head. “He’s a footballer. He’s a player.”

Grace smirked. “Yes, now. I know he plays ball.”

“I’m not talking about ball.”

Grace paused. “Oh.”

“Yeah!” Mutale said, voice cracking. “I overheard him yesterday. Some girl on the phone said she was his girlfriend.”

Grace raised her hand. “Calm down. You might have misunderstood.”

“I didn’t. I know what I heard.”

There was silence.

“I think I have to find a way to leave this marriage before I lose my mind,” Mutale said.

Grace held her by the shoulders. “Calm down. You need to go. That’s what you need to do. Go to England, be with him and see for yourself. Understand him. Learn him.”

Mutale exhaled shakily. “I’m disrupting the flow of my life.”

“Sin does that,” Grace said, softly. “It does.”

“Some sins you can dust off and say, it’s over. But this one? Sleeping with Ham? It’s like it infected my whole body.”

“In many cases, yes. Sin wrecks things. But God also redeems. He pulls you out of the mess you made, not just into forgiveness, but into healing. You’re not beyond that. You’re not hopeless.”

“I have more money now than I’ve ever had, he’s always sending money.” Mutale said. “But I’m not happy. Ham doesn’t talk to me anymore. He only picked my call last night because I wouldn’t stop, and then a girl says she’s his girlfriend, while I’m on the phone.”

Grace didn’t speak for a while, putting her thoughts together, then finally she said, “You said it yourself, he’s a player. People will always be around him. His house, his phone, his life. You’re the wife. You need to go. And not alone. Go with God.”

Mutale nodded slowly. “I’m going. I’m definitely going.”

She looked at her suitcase.

“I just don’t know… if I’m staying.”