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AFTER my wife gave birth, she had given birth to twins at the time. She was working as a secretary in a firm, but because of her pregnancy and the nature of her job, she was given leave to return three months after delivery.
Fortunately, she gave birth to twins, and going back was not easy because she really needed to stay at home and tend to the kids. Being someone who always had her own money, I thought it wise to place her on salary so that whenever she wanted to buy something for herself or eat what she desired, she could easily get it.

But the mistake I made was discussing this idea with some close friends at work.
I asked them,
“Guys, is it really bad if I place my wife on salary, seeing that she just gave birth, and will need money at hand?”
One of my friends snapped immediately.
“Salary for what? Why would you give her a salary? Is she not your wife? Is she your housemaid?”
I replied calmly,
“No, but I’m just thinking… This is someone who has worked all her life. Now she’s stuck at home with the babies. At least she should have something to hold on to.”
But another friend cut in angrily,
“It is you people that empower women. When you start this now, tomorrow she’ll go and tell my wife, and that one will start disturbing me. My brother, don’t start what you cannot finish. If you give her money for the house, that’s enough. Let her manage herself till she resumes work.”
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I thought about it deeply and concluded that maybe they were right. I didn’t place her on any salary.
Now, my wife is the kind of woman who doesn’t know how to ask. All her life she has been independent, and I got carried away by that.
One evening, I returned from work and went into the bedroom. My wife had already ironed and arranged my clothes for the next day, as she always did. The twins were asleep in their cot, and she was in the kitchen preparing dinner.
Just then, her phone rang. It was lying on the bed, so I picked it up and handed it to her before stepping out.
I overheard the conversation. It was her elder brother.
After the exchange pleasantries, her brother asked,
“My sister, how are you doing? You don’t sound happy. Is everything alright?” he asked.
She tried to sound cheerful.
“I’m fine. Everything is okay.”
But her brother pressed further.
“No, you don’t sound fine. Tell me, what’s wrong?”
After a pause, she said softly,
“Please, can you help me recharge my phone? I’ve run out of airtime. And if you can, help me subscribe for data too. I’ve been out for a week now.”
Her brother was shocked.
“Why didn’t you say so? You should have told me earlier.” He promised to send her some money immediately.
When she ended the call, I stood frozen. My chest felt tight. As a man, it struck me hard. My wife had to reach out to her brother for something as little as airtime and data, while I was there, doing nothing.
I really felt bad because as the man of the house, I am supposed to be the provider. If a man gets married to his wife and she still has to reach out to her brothers or family for help, then something is wrong. It’s not like I didn’t have the money. It’s not like we were poor. We were okay. I was okay. I just failed to take responsibility.
To me, it was a slap to my face. A big slap.
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Later, during dinner, I asked her gently,
“Why didn’t you tell me you needed money for these things?”
She lowered her eyes and replied,
“You should know me by now. I don’t know how to ask. I’ve always worked and had my own. It’s not easy for me to come and start asking you for small things.”
I felt a sting in my heart. I reached for her hand.
“I’m sorry. From today, I’ll make sure you don’t lack anything.”
She smiled faintly, but I could see the sadness in her eyes. After the meal, I gave her some money. To my surprise, she broke down in tears.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, alarmed.
She wiped her eyes and whispered, “For over three months now, since I gave birth, I’ve been so broke. I couldn’t even buy shortbread, my favorite snack. I would see it in the shop, but I’d just close my eyes and walk away. Anything I see that I like, I pretend as if I don’t need it. It has not been easy for me.”
My throat tightened, and I felt ashamed. Right there, I promised myself never to let her go through that again.
From that day onward, I placed her on a monthly allowance. She never squandered it; instead, she used it wisely. Anytime I sent her money, she would rush to me with excitement, singing my praises,
“My husband, my husband, my Odogwu Bubu!” and dance around the room.
I would blush and laugh, and sometimes I would send her even more, just to see that glow on her face. Those moments brought peace into our home, because she knew she was valued and cared for.
Marriage is not about listening to outsiders. It is about protecting your home, prioritizing your partner, and making sure their needs are met in love.
Morals
Never allow external voices to dictate how you run your home. You and your spouse know what works best for your family.
Marriage is about partnership and care. Providing for your spouse, even in small ways, is a seed of love that grows into peace, happiness, and respect.
If this story inspired you, kindly share❤️
© Maris Ufoma
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