The once bright flame of love that once burned between David and Mercy had turned into dying embers. Mercy sat in their dimly lit room, her eyes swollen from days of silent weeping. Her heart had become heavy with grief as she watched her husband slip further and further away.
David no longer smiled when he returned home. His words were sharp, his presence distant. Mercy could feel it — something inside him had changed.
It had been weeks since Daniel's second birthday. While Mercy tried to keep her children's spirits high, the home had grown increasingly cold. David spent more time outside, sometimes not returning until morning. The man who once surprised her with gifts and laughter was now a shadow of himself, hardened and silent.
The breaking point came one Sunday evening.
David walked into the house, his shirt stained with palm wine and dust. Mercy, who had waited for hours, asked gently, "Where have you been, David?"
He didn't reply. Instead, he tossed his shirt onto the floor and collapsed onto the old couch.
"David," Mercy tried again, "The children have been asking for you—Daniel cried himself to sleep waiting for his father."
That was when he snapped.
"Is it only Daniel in this house?" he roared. "Must everything always be about that boy?"
Mercy took a step back, stunned. "He's your son—"
"Enough!" he barked. "You and that cursed child have brought nothing but suffering into my life!"
Mercy gasped. "Cursed? Daniel is just a little boy. He's sick, yes—but he needs love, not hatred."
David's face twisted with frustration. "You wouldn't understand. My brother James was right. I need to start over. Maybe it's time I take another wife, one that can give me peace!"
Mercy's lips trembled. "You can't mean that…"
But he did.
The following week, David traveled to their hometown without telling Mercy. He stayed with his elder brother, James, who had long been pushing him to remarry. James introduced him to Sarah, a quiet, fair-skinned woman from the village, known for her good manners and hardworking nature.
David did not waste time.
Two weeks later, Mercy watched with shattered hope as David sold the last car he had bought her — the same car he gave her when she was pregnant with Daniel. The car that once symbolized love and pride now funded his new beginning... with another woman.
He didn't even tell Mercy directly.
It was the whispers in the market that reached her first.
"Have you heard?" one woman said. "David married that young girl from Obollo last weekend."
"I saw them myself," another added. "He used his old car to pay for the bride price. Poor Mercy... I wonder how she's coping."
Mercy stood in silence, pretending not to hear. Her hands trembled as she clutched Daniel close to her chest. The boy was burning with fever again.
She returned home and locked herself in the bedroom.
That night, her daughters Faith and Anita crept in quietly. They had noticed their mother's swollen eyes, her silent sobs.
"Mama," Faith whispered, sitting beside her, "don't cry."
Mercy stroked her daughter's hair and said nothing.
Anita, younger but equally aware, said, "Is Papa not coming home anymore?"
Mercy swallowed hard. "Your Papa has gone to the village… he'll be staying there for a while."
No child should have to understand betrayal, yet the pain etched on their faces showed they already did.
Meanwhile, in the village, David celebrated his new marriage. James beamed with pride, having convinced his younger brother that Mercy was the root of his troubles.
"Sarah is your fresh start," James told him. "You deserve peace. That woman and her sick son were draining your spirit."
David nodded, forcing himself to believe the lie.
But back in the city, in a tiny rented house that once held laughter, Mercy prayed. Not for herself, but for her children.
And especially for Daniel.
He was too young to understand the weight of abandonment. But Mercy feared what the future might hold — for a sick child, a broken family, and a heart that still hoped.