The millionaire's daughter (4) And the bubble bursts

"You are getting me wrong. I'm not saying you are not supportive. 

All I'm saying is that this project means a lot to me and I need all the support I can get for it to take off," I explained calmly. 

"You know your problem, Tunji, you never appreciate anything done for you. Here's an opportunity that a lot of men would grab, working in a large family business like ours and you turn it down!" she stated angrily.

I could see she was getting really worked up so I let the matter drop.

It was a few days later that the issue came up again. It was even Mira, who brought it up. 

"So what kind of business are you planning to go into?" she asked one evening after dinner. I looked at her, surprised. 

I had already made the proposal on my laptop which I quickly showed her.

"Hmm. This doesn't look bad," she commented, as she scrolled down the page to check all the details including the start-up capital it would require.

Later, after discussing more about the business, she stated:

“It looks viable. I think I like it." I simply smiled, glad I had won her over.

With her support and that of her family, I was able to raise the capital and the business took off. 

Mira offered me the use of one of her buildings which was vacant, then and with the initial number of staff I recruited, we moved in. That was how I started my own business. 

My wife really tried to support the business, especially at the beginning. 

The first major job I got was through a contact of hers. It was a big, multi-million Naira job and I threw myself into it to ensure I delivered.

With time, more of such jobs came and I started doing really well, making more money than I had ever dreamed of. 

To add to my joy, Mira gave birth to a daughter whom we named Cyndi. It was a happy time for us and we became closer.

However, it wasn't long before cracks began to appear in our bubble of happiness.

Actually, they emanated mostly from our home life. Shortly after our wedding, I realized quickly that Mira was not the domestic type of woman.

She knew next to nothing about running a home and worse, was not even ready to learn.

She couldn't cook, wash, clean the house and take care of stuffs in the house that a good wife is supposed to do.

"I was brought up in a home with a lot of domestic staff. A cook prepared all our meals and maids cleaned the house. 

I never learned to cook," Mira explained when I grumbled about her shortcomings in the home.

We had moved after the wedding, to another accommodation not too far from Mira's apartment. It was a big mansion owned by my wife's family with a large garden, a swimming pool and other facilities. 

To run the place, Mira employed a large retinue of staff including a cook, maids, drivers, nanny for Cyndi and even a man to do the laundry.

"Are they not too many? We don't need all these people," I stated when the staff resumed for work. 

"We sure do. Who's going to do all the work around here? Definitely not me!" she declared.

Besides her inability to cook and do other domestic work, my wife also turned out to be very sloppy and untidy.

I had noticed it when we were courting but had thought she would change after marriage.

Most days, our bedroom looked as if a tsunami had passed through it as her expensive outfits, handbags, dirty clothes and other stuff will be strewn all over the place. 

I liked to live in a clean and neat environment and I couldn't understand why she was so messy. 

This caused several quarrels between us but she refused to change her sloppy ways which only manifested at home. 

Whenever she was going out, especially to parties, she would spend hours dressing up and by the time she finished, she would look so glamorous, she could be mistaken for a model. Sometimes, I found it difficult reconciling that untidy lady at home with the glamour puss outside.

It got to a stage I could not bear it any longer and I had to move out of our bedroom to a spare room in the house.

"I need my own space," I explained when she asked why I was moving out.

The partying wife

That was not all. Her attitude towards our lovely daughter became a source of worry to me. Mira hardly paid attention to her, leaving all the care to the nanny. 

It wasn't as if she was a busy career woman. 

As a director in the family business, she didn't have to be in the office every day. She went a few days a week and closed whenever she liked. 

So, she had a lot of time on her hands, yet she neglected Cyndi. She would go out in the morning and would not return home till very late.

Since I was very busy at work, I didn't know what was going on till my mother came to stay with me for some time. 

She drew my attention to my wife's neglect of her baby.

"She's supposed to be a nursing mother, yet she's hardly at home. She leaves the baby with the nanny all day and only comes home at night," my mother disclosed one night on my return home from work.

I looked at the baby who was sleeping peacefully in her cot. She was nearly six months old and was growing very fast.

The nanny had closed for the day and she was in the care of my mother. 

It was nearly 10 pm yet Mira was not back from wherever she had gone to.

That night, Mira did not come home till nearly midnight. I was really angry with her and I gave her a piece of my mind.

"The baby is still too young to be left alone. You are the mother, she needs your love and care now," I told her firmly. 

We were in her room where she was undressing and as usual, flinging clothes and shoes everywhere.

She turned to gaze at me.

"She has a nanny who's doing a good job. So, what am I supposed to do? Sit at home and hold her hand?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

I shook my head.

"That's not the point. A baby needs bonding with the mother, especially at this early stage of her life. A nanny can't do that," I pointed out. 

"Besides, the nanny takes care of the baby, the cook prepares our meals and the other members of staff do all the work. So, what do you, as the wife do in this house?" I asked.

She came up to me and smiled coyly at me. 

"I take care of this," she said softly, her hand slipping inside the loose house robe I was wearing to caress my chest and body. 

At first, I resisted her caresses as I was still angry with her. But as she slipped out of her undies and she wrapped her warm, voluptuous body round me, I melted.

As I kissed her, she held me tightly, stroking my dick, arousing me more. Soon, we were hungry with desire for each other and falling on the bed, bodies entwined, all was silent in the room for a while except the sounds of our frantic lovemaking...

Despite my talk with Mira, her attitude did not change. In fact, it got worse. She even started sleeping outside our home. 

When I complained, she would give the excuse that she had gone to a party with Tracie and her other friends and it was too late to return home.

"I slept at Tracie's place. What's the big deal about that," she grumbled, turning over on the bed and going back to sleep.

"The big deal is that you are now a married woman. And a responsible married lady, doesn't run all over town with her friends, going from one party to another and sleeping outside her matrimonial home," I said angrily and stormed out of her room. 

I could not understand why she couldn't just focus 

on her home and family and reduced her partying ways. 

I knew when we were dating that Mira was the fun-loving, partying type who loved to attend all kinds of raves with her friends especially at weekends.

Most of her circle of friends, who were all from wealthy backgrounds, were like that including Tracie, who was like the head of their group and the most 'crazy' of them all.

Tracie who still has the hots for me despite my marriage to her friend. What kind of friend is that anyway?

I had thought that with marriage and motherhood, Mira would calm down, become more mature and responsible. 

How wrong I was! She was only interested in two things; shopping and partying.

Those were the things that absorbed all her attention to the detriment of her baby and even a husband. 

She was selfish, self-absorbed, only interested in her own pleasure, her desires. All other things were secondary to her.

She could travel to any part of the world just to shop or attend a high class party. She never bothered about my meals or about my well being as a caring wife should. 

Agreed, the domestic staff took care of all that, but it was not the same. 

You can call me old-fashioned, but as a typical African man, I believed it was a wife's duty to look after the home and her family. 

I longed for a nice meal cooked by my own wife instead of by a cook no matter how delicious his meals were. 

When I was growing up, my mother did all the cooking in our home and my father never ate food cooked by a servant.

I wanted the same for myself, but it seemed I had chosen the wrong woman.

Whenever I complained to my mother about my wife's behaviour, she would caution tolerance.

"You should not blame her too much. She must have been spoilt as a child and never learnt the things a woman needed to know about running her home," she stated one evening.

Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator and other individuals in the story.

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