I was 8 months pregnant. My ankles were swollen, my back hurt like someone was twisting it from the inside, and the baby kept kicking like he was auditioning for Super Eagles.
I was craving suya, sleep, and silence.
That day, I came home from antenatal, dropped into the chair like a wounded soldier, and saw the receipt on the table.
I blinked.
I checked again.
A Powerbike.
He bought a POWERBIKE.
This man, my husband, my partner in parenting, my “we-have-to-manage-this-month” best friend, bought a bike to cruise on the road.
I didn’t even speak. I just sat there, holding that paper, my heart pounding in my chest like a generator without a silencer.
The baby moved. I flinched.
I said, quietly, “You bought a powerbike?”
He smiled like a boy showing off his new toy.
“Babe, it was a deal. I’ve always wanted one, imagine taking the baby for a ride someday…”
I didn’t hear the rest.
In my head, I was thinking:
We haven’t finished paying for the hospital delivery.
I’ve been sewing baby clothes myself to save costs.
Our washing machine just died.
Our backup generator is a liar.
And this man bought a POWERBIKE?
I walked to the room and closed the door behind me.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I sat on the bed and counted every sacrifice I’ve made in the last 8 months. Every want I’ve buried. Every fear I’ve swallowed.
That was the hourglass moment, the silence before the explosion.
I remembered all our plans, all our late-night talks, all the times we said we were in this together. And suddenly, it felt like I was the only one still carrying that dream. Literally and emotionally.
But here’s the part that surprised even me.
I didn’t fight that night.
I waited.
And the next morning, I showed him the baby’s hospital bill, the rent due in four months, and the actual cost of diapers for the following year.
I asked him: “Does this look like the life of a man who needs a powerbike?”
He was quiet, not defensive, but just quiet.
Three days later, he sold the bike.
He took a loss on it, but sold it.
And then, without me asking, he transferred the entire amount into our joint account.
That was the day I realised something.
Sometimes, people make stupid decisions. But love, real love, is not about never being foolish. It’s about being willing to clean it up together.
The truth is, she didn’t just save their finances; she saved her marriage with grace.
Visit marriageandmoney.com.ng for money conversation templates to help you and the person you wish to share love and life with.
Adetutu Afolabi is a Personal Freedom Coach helping families build wealth through aligned values and intentional living. She believes strong relationships are key to lasting financial freedom
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