Novels by David Ulu odaiche

NAOMI'S POVHe was sitting a few stools away from me.He was tall, with dark hair and a well chiseled jawline. His grey eyes locked onto mine without looking away, it felt like he could see straight through the mess I was right now.There was something intense about the way he looked at me. It didn't feel like pity or curiosity. It felt different, like he could read my thoughts and knew exactly what I had been looking for.I didn’t look away.The whiskey made bolder, and more fierce. I felt less like the heart broken woman crying in pain and more like a fierce goddess waiting to be served.He stood up slowly and walked over. His movements were confident. He stopped right beside my stool.“You look like you’re trying to drown your sorrows,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth, with a hint of command that made my stomach do a back flip.I let out a bitter laugh. “Trying is the right word.”He tilted his head slightly. “Bad day?”“Bad life,” I muttered, then shook my head. “But it doe

NAOMI’S POVMy head and eyes took a head-turn the moment I stepped outside my father’s house, my sight became blurry with the tears I had been holding back and I felt like my world was crashing down.Three years.Three years of cooking his meals. Three years of washing his clothes. Three years of lying beneath him while he closed his eyes and pretended I was someone else.A log of wood.James’s words kept echoing in my head. No passion. No fire. Nothing. I had to close my eyes and pretend you were someone else just to get through it.Was I really that boring? That lifeless? That forgettable?I had never been with anyone before James. He was my first.My only.I had thought I was doing everything right. I had thought being gentle and loving was enough.I thought I was being the perfect and obedient wife. I thought I was enough. But apparently I wasn’t. Apparently, I was just a corpse lying there waiting for it to be over.I looked up to the night sky, and thought to myself.If I was so

NAOMI’S POVI stood outside my father’s house for a long moment before I finally walked up to the door.My hand was still shaking as I raised it to knock, but before I could, the door swung open.My father, Adams Williams, stood there, his face was twisted with rage. Behind him, I could see my stepmother, Mary, pacing in the living room with her phone pressed to her ear.“Dad—”Smack!His palm connected with my cheek.My head snapped to the side. The sting of the slap cause heat to move across my skin. I tasted blood in my mouth. I stood there frozen, my hand slowly rising to touch my stinging face.Three years of marriage. Three years of giving that man everything I had.And this was what I got in return.If not for James’s adultery, my father wouldn’t have slapped me.I looked up at him, my eyes reddened with anger and hurt.“You wretch!” my father roared. “You knew very well that it was your sister, yet you still called the cops on her? Are you trying to disgrace this family?!”I s

NAOMI’S POVI felt like my breathing was constricted.The words kept echoing in my head—Delia’s laugh, James’s sigh, the way she rested her head on his shoulder as if he had always been hers.My chest felt bruised, like someone had punched a hole right through it and left it gaping open.I backed away from the doorway, my tears blurring my vision. My legs moved on their own, carrying me down the hallway, out of the house, and straight to my car.I didn’t even remember grabbing my keys. I just needed to be far away from them. From that bed. From the sight of my stepsister’s pregnant belly moving on top of my husband.I started the engine and drove.I didn’t know where I was going. But it had to be anywhere but there. My hands shook on the steering wheel and my tears kept falling, each one causing the road to look even more blurry.But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.After a couple of streets, I couldn’t see clearly anymore. I pulled over under a large oak tree and killed the engine.Th

NAOMI’S POVAt twenty-six, I had stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago.I didn’t need grand gestures or sweeping romance. I didn’t need passion that took off in flames and then faded fast.What I needed was stability. A quiet home. A husband who came home at a reasonable hour and a life I could actually count on.For the past few months, I had finally started to believe I had that life again.James had changed. After a year of cold distance, late nights at the office, and excuses I forced myself to believe, he was suddenly present. He came home at six. He asked about my day. He kissed my forehead before bed. I didn’t question it because I was too grateful.“Happy anniversary, baby,” James said, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he slid out of bed.I smiled, still half-asleep, my heart felt warm. Three years. We had made it three years.“I’ll be home early tonight,” he promised, buttoning his shirt. “We’ll go somewhere nice. Just the two of us.”“I’d like that,” I whispered.He