...

I was eavesdropping. I heard Oge talk about her husband to her friend. Her words were punctuated by chokes of tears and sobs. Her heart was wounded and her eyes emitted salty water without ceasing.

"Some children saw him sleeping in the gutter last week. They brought him home. He was really smelling of his own vomit. His shirt stank of ginger beer and cigarette." , Oge sobbed.

Her friend listened without saying a word. Perhaps, she knew at this point that words were not potent enough to calm Oge down.

I listened with keenness. I wanted to hear more. Oge was broken. I was broken too. So much a woman was going through just because she had a drunk for a husband.

"Yesterday, he beat me...", she was weeping this time. " He got home around 11pm and landed a heavy wood on my head while breaking a glass plate on my tummy. See now, see Akwueke, I have lost my baby. My pregnancy of 4 months is gone!", Oge wailed.

I didn't want to listen anymore. I didn't want to enter into the room anymore. I decided to go outside the hospital and weep for a woman who was going through so much just because of a drunk husband.

And the most painful thing remains that ...

That husband is me.