Revenge Of The Richest Ex-Husband

 Heavy voices of excited men and ladies hung hugely over Jamole’s house. Today was the 24^th birth day party of his adorable wife, Stella Pitcher and although she had hinted him about it a few nights ago, yet he was still lost in his gloom due to what she demanded for a birthday gift.

Nights on end Jamole had been nagged by countless nightmares over thought of meeting her demand. He barely could provide a proper square meal for Stella so he wondered what would inspire his elegant wife to demand for an Arabic Coral Gold Ring.

He didn’t know the worth of the gold ring but with the few celebrities he had seen donning it, he knew it wasn’t a piece of cake.

With his oversized shoes which had its sole gaping at the ceiling and his I-was-white T-shirt  over bottom-patched pants, he was all ready for work but without the audacity to go to his wife in the sitting room to demand for ten dollar which was his transport fare to work.

The merriment continued in a very thumping manner and they were about cutting the sizeable cake when Jamole pranced to the sitting room, perched at the door, and cast a worrisome gaze at his wife, who was smiling cheek to cheek and accepting gifts of all sorts from her rich pals and associates.

All the while he had been initiating their gaze to meet so she could advance to him and help him with the money, saving him the embarrassment of the guests raising a brow at his odd looks; because he knew they would definitely raise a brow if he had stepped an inch further into their midst.

Fortunately their gaze locked and she caught the message in his cloudy eyes. She excused herself and her high heels knocked louder toward him.

“Happy birthday, wife,” Jamole affirmed gratefully since wishes were the only gift he could afford now. A contagious smile decked his face and she didn’t return the compliment, making his smile to disappear within the chin from where it came.

Just like he did, she folded her arms, shot her quarrelsome gaze at him and queried him with her thunderous eyes.

He wanted to speak yet further and she raised her hands at him to shut the hell up.

 “Today is my birthday. Am I going to remind you Arabic Coral Gold Ring still remains what I want for a birth day gift, huh?” she yelled.

  Jamole stole a glance and could see a few of the guests had settled their gaze on them.

“Could you please keep your voice down, dear? You are creating a scene.” he mumbled, struggled to keep his stare between the guests that were moping at them now and his wife who was mad at him in a menacing manner.

Her wide, pale palms were raised at him once again when he dared to explain himself. “Spare me that crab, Jamole. For three years, three whole years I have been begging my able-bodied husband to buy me Arabic Coral Gold Ring and it is already taking you eternity to do so.” She peered at him and stooped. “When are you going to buy me the ring? Is it when lions begin to use clipper?”

He dared to swallow hard this time but his mouth had dried up and he inwardly fought back the grievances impounding in his heart. He became the spectacle of the entire guest now because her voice was already beaming.

“Please , Stella can we discuss this privately, at least out of earshot?” His eyes darted around and she did same to see all eyes were on them now. “Our marriage deserves some respect, and I am still your husband despite my…”

She interposed him, “…Poverty,” she added.

He raised a furrowed brow and she tossed her head in affirmation, “Yes of course!” her voice blared and echoed across the room, “What else could have caused my husband three years to buy me a mere gold ring if not poverty...”

He interrupted her with his arms molded in apologies. “Give me some more time, I promise to buy you the gold ring, just give me one more year…I am working out something,” he stuttered, as he could hear few of the guests murmuring words that sounded like ‘good-for-nothing husband.’

“Broke ass husband! Could you please leave our party? We don’t want bad energy here.” He heard a voice mumble among the guests.

That was the voice of Vivian Thompson; she owned one of the best selling supermarkets in town.

Once again Jamole grinned hugely and rolled his eyes at Vivian.

When he thought that was enough another voice among the guests beamed, “Can you imagine his shoes? It gapes like the mouth of a whale!” that was the voice of Kennedy John, a sales person at the Antipolo Central Airport. He was among the closest buddies of Stella.

The entire guests burst into a mocking laugh and Jamole shut his eyes and grinned hard.

Stella chuckled and let a throaty, mocking laugh, while she pointed into his face, “Okay I guess one year won’t be enough, my darling husband. I am going to give you two decades to buy me a birthday gift.” She pointed at the tons of various gifts. “Did you see those gifts over there, they were given to me by friends who know my worth; pals who value Stella Pitcher. I can do without you, Jamole.”

After three years of saving his daily income of one dollar as a janitor at the post office and the municipal town hall, he was able to realize one thousand dollars for the Arabic Coral Gold Ring.

He chuckled, revealing lines of joy as he gazed upon the dollar notes in his sizeable box where he had been saving the money.

 “Oh sweetie, I am going to buy you the gold ring now. I have managed to save up to one thousand dollars for the ring,” he intoned, peered at his wife’s sizeable photo in his hold. “I can’t wait to etch smile on that face of yours. Today is the premiere day of my life.” he began to walk away impatiently as he looked toward going to the store to buy her the ring.

The excitement of a thousand souls hung over him as he made home with the Arabic Gold Ring cautiously held in his hands; this was the climax of his achievement as a husband.

He was prone to greet everyone that came in sight and any careful observer would notice he was excited. At bated breath, he ran home to present the gold ring to his adorable wife.

“Sweetie, I am back! Guess what! I just bought you the Arabic Coral Gold Ring!” his voice filled the entire yard as he pranced toward their bedroom.

“Ah! Uh!”

He heard a moan, but argued if it really was coming from his bedroom.

With the freedom of a bird, he barged into the bedroom only to behold his wife, hanging her widespread legs in the air, moaning heavily under the weight and pounding of a flamboyant middle-aged man; that was Roger, her boss at Swan Group.

“Holy kitten!” he exclaimed at the top of his voice and the bag in his hands dashed on the floor. “Stella!” he shrieked, body trembled and mouth gaping.

Neither of them flinched or was remorseful instead they kissed engagingly, flirted on and gave him the cold shoulders. Roger took his time to pound into her until his face fell on her neck and breath burned her on the neck.

Jamole stared at this iniquity and shut his burning eyes. He breathed uneasily.

And Stella finally snapped at him, catching her breath, “What is all this, Jamole? Are you stupid? Have you gone ninny? How dare you interrupt our privacy?” she pulled out of the duvet.

He shut his eyes and fought back tears. It was erroneous to cry before them so he wouldn’t dare to do it. “Why did you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this mess?”  Jamole queried.

Smiling cheek to cheek, Stella pushed out her finger and the gold ring glistened gracefully.  “Well, what you couldn’t buy in three years, my boss brought in less than two minutes. This is Arabic Coral Gold Ring, worth $20,000. It is from a man that values my happiness, a man like you.”

“Stella, who is the unshaven boy?” Roger queried and lit a cigar.

“Oh, he is my live-in-husband,” she replied.

“I thought you have divorced the, broke ass,” Roger retorted.

“Did you just call me a broke ass? I caught you banging my wife in my bed and you still have the guts to talk?” Jamole’s eyes flinted with fury, as he advanced with his folded fist.

Stella came on his way and stopped him, “You dare not raise your filthy, janitor’s hands on him. I guess you don’t know who Roger is, huh? Only his salary for one month can wipe away poverty from your generation.”

He interrupted her, “But why?” he fondled into his bag and brought out the gold ring. “I just bought you the same gold ring. My sweat, handwork and life’s savings are buried in this gold ring. Why did you do this to me, Stella? Why?”

“You good-for-nothing husband, so you still have the nerves to pride in your poverty after taking eternity to buy me a cheap, gold ring. Where did you steal that from, huh, because for all I know you have been a broke ass and can’t fend for yourself let alone buy me a gold ring.”

He shut his eyes and raised his gaze; his heart thudded with heartbreak.

She barked on, “Besides you have no right to disrupt our privacy. This house belongs to me, I feed you, clothe you, even I paid my dowry, you never did. So, I have the right to do with it what I like. Now we deserve some apology. Go on your knees and apologize, Jamole Cadry!”

Her boss tossed his head in agreement.

Jamole raised a furrowed brow and gaped at them. “What did you just say? I caught you being banged by your boss and you demand an apology? Are you in your right senses? Did you just say that?”

“Yes, you heard me right,” she beamed, “Go on your knees and apologize before I do something stupid!” she threatened.

The veins under his skin pumped in fury.

She leaned toward some documents on the shelf and tossed at the face of Jamole, “Since you wouldn’t apologize, I want a divorce. These divorce papers have been ready a long ago. I kept it, thinking you will get rich some day but you have been destined to be poor. I am sick and tired of a broke as janitor that calls himself my husband. Sign those divorce papers at your leisure and never show up your poverty-stricken face in my life again,”

She said at a breath and started kissing her boss.

“Please boss, give it to me like you have always,” she demanded.

Roger responded by lifting her in his arms and they slumped in the bed; already the bed was creaking under their weight and she was beginning to moan again.

Jamole shut his eyes, raised his gaze, swallowed hard and there was no saliva to gulp down his throat. He fell upon his knees and gazed upon these divorce papers.

“Oh God! Why is this happening to me?” he mumbled.

With his dimmed eyes staring at them, he forced a smile and replied through gritted teeth, “Oh you will regret this, you and Roger,” he affirmed, signed the divorce paper, tossed it on the floor, took a walk and never looked back.