Gentle's Penn

MOM WHY ?

EPISODE 2

If heartbreak had a face, it would have been mine that night.
If betrayal had a sound, it was my own mother’s laughter echoing in my ears as I stood frozen at the door.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear the house apart. But my voice died inside my throat. All I could do was stare.

My husband.
My own mother.
On the same bed where I once dreamed of raising children.

Tears blurred my vision. My body shook violently, as if I had been thrown into a storm.

“Mother…” my voice cracked like a broken plate. “How could you?”

Chike jumped off the bed, fumbling with his boxers. “Please, Amaka, let me explain—”

“EXPLAIN WHAT?!” I roared, my voice finally finding its strength. “That you were sleeping with my mother under my roof?!”

But then it happened—the thing that broke me beyond repair.

Instead of showing shame, instead of kneeling down and begging for forgiveness, my mother looked me in the eyes and said calmly:

“Amaka, stop shouting. You are embarrassing yourself.”

Embarrassing myself?
Those words pierced me deeper than any knife.

I staggered backward, holding the doorframe for balance. “Mama… is this really you? The same woman who carried me in her womb? The same woman who prayed for my marriage?”

She adjusted the bedsheet and said with no remorse, “I carried you in my womb, yes. But don’t forget that I am still a woman. I have needs too.”

I gasped, clutching my chest. “And you chose my husband to satisfy those needs? Mama, why?”

Her face hardened. “Because you don’t know how to keep a man.”

Her words struck like thunder. I felt my soul leaving my body.

Chike stepped closer, his voice trembling. “Amaka, please, don’t make this worse. I… I love you, but it just happened.”

“It just happened?!” I spat, my tears soaking my cheeks. “No, Chike. Things like this don’t just happen. You made a choice. Both of you did.”

I sank to the floor, my sobs shaking the walls of the house. The man I called my king. The woman I called my mother. My pil

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*MOM WHY ???*

*EPISODE 1*

* #*

If someone had told me that one day my own mother would stab me in the back, I would have sworn it was a lie.

But life has a way of teaching us that betrayal doesn’t always come from strangers—it often comes from the ones you love the most.

The day I married Chike, I thought my happiness was complete.

I can still remember the sound of church bells ringing, my friends dancing, and the smell of jollof rice filling the reception hall.

My mother hugged me so tightly that I almost couldn’t breathe.

She whispered into my ear:
“My daughter, you are blessed.

This marriage will be sweet like honey, and no woman will ever take your husband from you.”

Her words sank deep into my heart. If only I had known that the very same woman would one day be the one to steal him.

For the first year, everything was perfect. Chike would kiss my forehead before leaving for work.

He called me his “queen” and sent me silly love texts in the middle of the day.

My mother visited often, cooking soup, telling me stories, and giving advice. I trusted her completely.

After all, she was my mother—the one person I believed would never hurt me.

But slowly, things started to change.

Chike began sneaking out of the bedroom at night. I would wake up at 2 a.m.

and his side of the bed would be empty.

When I asked where he went, he would smile and say, “I couldn’t sleep, love.

I went to watch football highlights.” I wanted to believe him, but something in his eyes told me there was more.

At the same time, my mother’s visits became strange. She stopped asking before coming.

She would just show up with her bag, sometimes staying for weeks.

When I gently suggested she should rest in her own house, she frowned and said, “So you want to chase me away from your home? I am your mother. Don’t forget that.”

Her words pricked my heart with guilt. I said nothing.

Then came the night that destroyed me.

I came back from work earlier than usu

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