Tears Of Agony
- Genre: Romance
- Author: Cosmas Rotich
- Chapters: 57
- Status: Ongoing
- Age Rating: 12+
- 👁 9.4K
- ⭐ 7.5
- 💬 20
Young and beautiful Becky marries the love of her life; an army officer. She soon settles in her matrimonial home and all is rosy. A modern girl, that she is leads a sophisticated lifestyle and her code of dress sharply contrast that of the women like her in the village. This life style thrust her into a conflict with her husband's conservative uncle who does not approve of her dress code and ends distasting everything about her. He immediately begins pestering her with lecture after lecture demanding the she rid herself of most of her clothes and conform to the ways of the clan. Becky finds his concern an unnecessary bother and tells him off to mind his own business. The uncle, who doubles up as a clan elder used to being revered by all and sundry is infuriated by this open display of arrogance. He swears to teach her a lesson and make a hell of her life. Will he succeed?
Becky strode gracefully along a narrow path. A twenty litre barrel of water lay on her back held steadily in place by a robe wound around it and looped about her head. Her upper body slightly leaned forward and her eyes were glued to the path on which she trod.
She raised her head a little to have a good view of the way ahead and her eyes caught a glimpse of Pabonya her husband’s venerable paternal uncle who was leaning against the fence his arms folded across his chest and his keen eyes gazing at her. She noticed a weird smirk in his austere façade and her heart sunk in a sickening plunge.
There was a marked difference in the way the uncle had been treating. And it sucked. Her every meeting with him lately had brought some burning like that which a hand that had come into contact with pepper would bring to an eye.
“Why don’t you listen?” He started coldly and so suddenly that Becky gasped despite having anticipated this, “Hmm! How many times do I have to remind you that at no time should you be dressed in such atrocious clothes?” his voice was loud and harsh.
This was a hundredth time he was talking to her like this and about the same subject: the indecency of the clothes she wore.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, walking around half naked? Look at you; wicked girl,” he condemned.
Becky examined herself as though she had been unaware how she was dressed. It was just her tight, black miniskirt. And indeed, it was short; partly covering the upper parts of her legs above the knees and was slit at the back. Anyone looking at her from behind could get a clear view of her thighs. On top was her red, sleeveless, tight-fitting blouse that allowed an observer’s eyes an access to her cleavage.
“It is not your business to tell me how to dress; my dress my choice!” the words came tumbling down before she could properly consider them. She transferred her gaze to his face after her brief self inspection.
It was apparent that her reaction had surprised the elder. Encouraged, she continued to torment him. “Isn’t my husband comfortable with me?” she added unflappably, “Do I have any interest troubling myself to appease a man who has never said anything nice to me?” Her tone was laced with vexations.
Pabonya’s face wrinkled in distaste, mortified that what he just heard were Becky's actual utterances. It felt like a slap on the face.
How insensitive of her? Was that not such a blatant display of pride and arrogance? Yet it was quite unusual and untypical of her. She had always taken his lectures without a word. How and when this peppery attitude crept into her, he could not tell.
Becky on the other hand had found his remark very irritating. She had been patient with him for so long. And it was just about the time she stood firm and assert her authority in defending her personal lifestyle.
She looked at him one more time and saw the look of defeat in his face. He was getting hurt and she nearly grinned fascinated by the success of her jab. It felt good to hurt him in return for the countless times she had been hurt by him.
She defiantly walked past him, allowing him another moment to digest the realities of the rude reaction she had just unleashed.
Pabonya followed her with his eyes until she was gone and out of sight.
Utterly defeated and rankled, he turned around and took the path that led to his house and paced away feeling his blood boil. He swore to himself that he will institute a package of sanctions that will ensure that Becky pay an enormous price for handling an elder so demeaningly.
She is brave, he thought, just brave and ignorant. He would put a major hit to this false confidence and make her life miserable, full of sorrow and shame.
He wriggled in his bed. For the whole night, he had stayed awake. He had not managed even a minute’s sleep. Over and over, his mind had played the episode of his latest encounter with Becky. He cringed as the memory of her words came flooding in his mind. Headache brewed underneath the skull of his head.
No one had ever been so rude to him in his life. Had he stooped so low to be ridiculed?
A feeling began to develop in him. No, it had been there for a while. Just that it was now becoming more explicit and profound. The feeling was hatred. He hated Becky with his every flesh and bone.
He would not accept to be disparaged, especially by a woman.
He rolled the blankets off his body and lowered his legs over the side of his bed. Then he rose to his feet and slipping into his clothes, he walked out of the house.
It was dark. He heard the chirping of birds and realised it would soon dawn. He took a plastic barrel full of water nearby and poured some of its c