Her Greedy Impotent Husband

“You're the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Sheila stirred the pot of stew, the wooden spoon trembling slightly in her hand. The faint laughter coming from the living room sent waves of anger and humiliation through her. She gritted her teeth, determined to ignore it, but the sharp sound of Elena’s giggle cut through her resolve.

Sheila turned off the stove and stared at her reflection in the window above the sink. Her face was pale, her eyes dull from months of sleepless nights. The woman looking back at her was a ghost of who she used to be—a confident, driven woman who once believed in love, in family, in Jacob.

“Do you need help, Sheila?” Jacob’s voice called from the living room, but the mockery in his tone was impossible to miss.

“No, I’ve got it,” she replied, her voice steady despite the lump forming in her throat. She picked up the tray with trembling hands, balancing the steaming bowls of stew, and walked toward the source of her pain.

As Sheila entered the living room, her eyes darted to the couch where Jacob sat with Elena. The sight was almost unbearable. Jacob’s arm rested casually around Elena’s shoulders, his fingers idly tracing circles on her arm. Elena, radiant in a form-fitting red dress that highlighted her burgeoning baby bump, leaned into him with a smug smile.

The tray wobbled slightly in Sheila’s hands, but she steadied it and set it down on the coffee table. “Dinner’s ready,” she said quietly, avoiding their eyes.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Jacob said, not even sparing her a glance as he reached for a bowl.

Elena smiled sweetly at Sheila, though the malice behind it was unmistakable. “You’re such a good hostess, Sheila. It must be hard for you to watch me give Jacob what you couldn’t.”

Sheila’s heart clenched, but she forced herself to remain composed. “I hope you enjoy the meal,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

She had endured it. Three months of serving her husband and his mistress. She had endured it, now she felt she had done enough.

As she turned to leave, Jacob’s voice stopped her.

“Wait, Sheila,” he said, his tone casual. “Why don’t you sit with us for a bit?”

She froze, her back to them, her nails digging into her palms. “I still have some things to take care of in the kitchen.”

“Come now,” Jacob insisted, his voice firm. “Elena’s right. You should join us. After all, this is your home too... for now.”

“For now?” she thought, as her gaze darkened. “He's trying to chase me away from my home.”

She lifted her gaze, her resolve tightened. “I still have a lot to do. I can't sit now.”

Her voice carries anger, humiliation and pain.

Day after day, she had given him a chance to change, but she knew he would never.

She turned to leave but Jacob's words stopped her on her track.

“Seat Sheila.” He ordered, causing her more angrier than she imagined. “I have something to tell you. So seat.”

Sheila turned, pulled the chair backwards and sat.

“Go on.”

Jacob leaned back, his fingers interlocking behind his head. “You know, Elena and I were talking earlier. We think it’s time we made things official.”

Sheila’s turned, her head shot up, her eyes meeting his for the first time in weeks. “Official?”

“We’re getting married,” Jacob said bluntly, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “There’s no point in dragging this out any longer. You and I both know this marriage is over.”

Sheila felt the words like a physical blow, but she refused to let him see her break. “I see,” she said evenly.

“He wants to play the game. The one I dreaded.” She gasped, letting her pain go with it. “Fine. We will see who goes down.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Elena chimed in, her tone laced with mock surprise. “I expected tears, maybe a little begging. But I suppose you’ve always known your place, haven’t you?”

Sheila’s nails dug deeper into her palms, but she kept her face blank. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice steady. “I hope you both find the happiness you’re looking for.”

Elena laughed, a high, cruel sound. “Oh, we will. Especially now that Jacob’s going to be a father. Something you could never give him.”

The air left Sheila’s lungs as if she’d been punched. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, her voice tight. “I have things to do.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She fled to the sanctuary of her bedroom, locking the door behind her. The moment she was alone, the tears came, hot and unrelenting. She sank to the floor, her back against the door, her hands covering her face as sobs wracked her body.

How had it come to this? she wondered bitterly. She had given Jacob everything—her love, her support, her loyalty, her Money! And in return, he had given her nothing but pain. His family’s cruel words echoed in her mind, each one a dagger to her already broken heart.

“Barren.”

“Shapeless.”

“Shameless.”

“Incomplete.”

They had called her every name in the book, each one a reminder of her perceived failure. And now, Jacob had added to the list. He had humiliated her in the worst way possible, parading Elena in front of her, flaunting her pregnancy as if it were a trophy.

They had been together for five years, and now all she could feel was hatred for him. He had wasted five productive years of her life.

Sheila’s tears eventually slowed, but the pain remained, a dull ache in her chest. She wiped her face and stood, walking to the vanity where a framed photo of her and Jacob sat. She picked it up, her fingers brushing over the glass.

The photo was from their wedding day. She looked at her younger self, radiant in her white gown, her eyes filled with hope and love. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her.

With a sudden surge of anger, Sheila hurled the photo across the room. It shattered against the wall, the glass splintering into a thousand tiny shards.

“No more,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with resolve. “I have had enough. I have.”

Sheila knew she couldn’t stay in this house any longer, couldn't continue to endure the daily humiliation. But she also knew she couldn’t leave empty-handed. Jacob had taken everything from her, but there was one thing she still had: her pride, her money.

Picking up her phone, she dialled a number and the person picked at first rang.

“Mrs Winfrey.” A male voice echoed from the phone with respect, ready to take orders.

“Andrew, I need every single piece of paperwork from my company sent to me by email. And get the boards ready for a secret meeting, Jacob must not know.” I ordered, wiping my eyes clean.

“Yes ma'am.” He replied and I ended the call.

It's time to get me back.