Forbidden Dance: Will She Forgo Her Marriage for a Lifetime of Happiness? by Stella Eromonsere-Ajanaku Read Free Book Online Page B

and a peck on both cheeks. “We see Dune has kept you busy. He talks ten to the dozen.”
    Dune stood between his parents and rested his arms over their shoulders. The posture needled Kyle’s heart. He missed his family.
    “Go on to your discussion. We’ll have dinner once you’re done,” Aileen said with a shove at Kyle.
    “Kyle, you know the way,” Rev. Jones said as he left the kitchen. It felt good to be in their midst.
    And so Kyle made weekly appointments with Rev. Jones for the next three months. In that time, he faced some harsh truths about his attitudes – his selfishness, and single-minded focus about his work. He learnt how these failings hurt his wife. In a few sessions, he had to list all the emotional ways he knew he inflicted pain on his wife, and why he acted the way he did. Oh and his neglect of her stank to his nostrils.
    Rev. Jones made him discuss every minute detail. At first, he cringed, but when he remembered Dune’s advice, he opened up freely.
    In the final weeks, he had to discuss what he could have done differently in every instance where he failed.
    After the twelve week period, it was obvious he alone had control over his actions and inactions. And he alone could determine whether he wanted a happy marriage or not.
    Once his therapy sessions came to an end, he flew to Warri to visit his parents-in-law under the pretext of completing a bogus film project. How he managed to cover his problems from their inquisitive queries beat him.
    Before he made the trip to Warri, he shopped for clothing and shoes for his wife’s parents and brothers. As an afterthought, he bought a Mercedes Benz for his father-in-law straight from a showroom in Warri. To some extent, his generosity threw them off his trail.
    His life was still on tenterhooks. Now, after nearly six months, his Private Investigators still had no clue where his wife had disappeared to and he was almost at his wits end.

Nine
     
    For the next couple of months, Alero spent more time at Zane’s place than she would have imagined possible. But tonight, she was seated in front of her dressing mirror with a cotton pad in one hand. She gently removed her makeup. Zane was busy selling cars to a group of Arab men he met at a car show last week.
    Sex with Zane was great. He was attentive and caring. She cooked him dinner and they went night clubbing a couple of nights each week.
    She didn’t bring up her marital status with him again. If Kyle never showed up in her life, it would be stupid to lose a great man like Zane for a non-existent marriage.
    “Divorce Kyle,” she murmured. Her chest squeezed. “I can’t. My parents will have my head on a plate,” she groaned.
    Zane helped set up her nail studio and assisted in recruiting two more manicurists. He was there when the doors opened for the first time, and he spread the word. Before long, sessions were by appointment only.
    As they laid in bed one evening, after a hot sex spree, she shared her vision to donate a portion of her monthly profits to local school children who could not afford to buy lunch. He was so thrilled, he made it happen. He took the day-to-day stress out of her life.
    When Zane found out after their first date, she hadn’t explored the glory of Marrakech, he whisked her off to the Jamaa el Fna square. During the day, the city’s square and market place bustled with orange juice stalls, Moroccan spice traders, and traditionally-attired water sellers, story tellers, dancing boys and chleuh. Although she had cringed at the sight of the performing snake charmers, Zane had quickly rushed her along to the food stalls where they bought and ate local delicacies. He encouraged her to taste so many flavours – spicy Moorish eggs with minty pitta chips, palmiers with a touch of harissa and cumin scented cheese crumbles washed down with a bottle of fizz drink.
    So many people crammed in the well-lit open space. If she had to take a head count of the drifting crowd, it would take