“Madam Sophia, tighten your core, yes, like that,” My heart betrayed me, it raced. I told myself it was just exercise, but deep down I knew it was more.
It was not only his muscles, though they looked like they were carved from stone. It was the way he carried himself, confident and sure, like the whole room was moving to his rhythm. His smile lit up the fitness hall, and his voice, deep and commanding, wrapped around my name like velvet.
Each time he corrected my stance, his hand close to my waist, his breath warm near my ear as he said,
“Madam Sophia, tighten your core, yes, like that,”
My heart betrayed me, it raced.
I told myself it was just exercise, but deep down I knew it was more. His presence was intoxicating, and each rep pulled me deeper into a fantasy I had no business entertaining.
Soon, gym hours became sweeter than my hours at home. I was glowing, sweating, alive in ways I had not felt for months. His encouragement became my drug.
But one Friday morning, as I pulled out my leggings and sneakers, tying my hair into a ponytail, a soft voice stopped me.
“Honey, you are still going to the gym today”
I froze. My husband stood by the door, his eyes tired but tender, his voice carrying the same gentleness that won me years ago.
“Yes,” I replied quickly. “Why do you ask”
He stepped closer, his rough carpenter’s hands brushing mine as he adjusted the water bottle strap. His touch was familiar, but heavy with unspoken words.
“Nothing,” he said quietly. “I just noticed you have not really been here with us lately. With me, with the kids. You seem far away. But maybe it is stress.”
His words pierced me. For the first time in weeks, I really looked at him. That was when I noticed it, the faint burn mark across his wrist.
My heart tightened. “What happened here” I asked, holding his hand.
He shrugged. “Two days ago. The generator backfired when I was trying to fix it. The pain was deep, but it is healing.”
He tried to laugh, but his laugh was strained.
My chest burned. My husband, barely three weeks after I gave birth, had been carrying the load of the house, the children, and the repairs, while I was busy chasing endorphins at the gym and letting temptation play with my thoughts.
I dropped the sneakers instantly. “I am not going anywhere today. After all, I am my own boss.”
He blinked, surprised, then smiled, as though he could not believe me.
That day, I stayed. I held our baby, rocked him as his tiny cries filled the room. I cooked dinner, cleaned the living room, and even helped him patch the leaking roof sheet.
We used to have house helps, but we sent them away after we found out they were stealing food and money. We decided to manage on our own.
After clearing up, I told my husband, “I will hire new help, responsible ones this time. You will not go through this stress again.”
I saw his shoulders relax. His lips curved into the smile that reminded me why I married him.
That night, when we lay side by side, I turned to him. My heart whispered what silence had been hiding.
“You are my strength. No gym, no instructor, no man can ever replace what you have built with me.”
His eyes softened, and he pulled me close.
But temptation does not give up easily.
Monday morning, guilt about wasting money pulled me back to the gym. I had already paid for the month, so I went with a firm resolve.
As soon as I walked in, there he was, my instructor, tall and commanding, his smile spreading like honey across his face.
“Madam Sophia,” he said warmly, “I prepared something for you today. Special diet meal, grilled chicken and brown rice. Good for your body goals. Please do not say no.”
He opened the container, and the aroma of seasoned chicken filled the air. My stomach betrayed me, my body tempted by both the food and the man.
For a moment, I almost gave in. His eyes, his charm, his scent, everything pulled at me.
But then I remembered my husband’s burn mark, his quiet strength, his tired smile that still found a way to hold me close.
I straightened, my voice steady.
“No, thank you. I only eat meals prepared by my husband.”
The smile on his face faltered. He tried to cover it quickly, but his disappointment was clear.
“And one more thing,” I added coldly. “From today, I will not continue these sessions. Please transfer my balance to another client.”
Shock flashed across his face, but I turned away. The devil had been entertained long enough.
That evening, I stopped by a boutique. I bought my husband a fine shirt and shoes.
When I got home, I handed him the bag.
“You are my husband,” I said, looking deep into his eyes. “Only you have the right to intoxicate me.”
His laughter filled the house, chasing away the silence that had lived there for weeks.
As he hugged me and k!ssed me softly, I whispered,
“Killiii me killiii me, my Baby, nah you be onye nwem.”
He laughed even harder, pulling me close as we sat down to eat together.
Marriage is sweet. But sometimes, we must make choices that keep it sweet.
Two days later, my instructor resigned from the gym. That was when I realized it had never been about fitness. I was his main target, and I had almost fallen.
Thank God I did not.
So, sister, if your gym instructor begins to enter your eyes, run. Your home should be your priority.
Moral Lessons
DNA: Should Some Secrets Be Kept Forever?, By Funke Egbemode
Before You Accept His Proposal, By Funke Egbemode
Guard your home like a fortress, distractions will always come dressed as gifts.
Temptation is not always about muscles or beauty, it is about neglect. Pay attention to those who sacrifice for you daily.
The grass is not greener elsewhere. It only grows where you water it.
Article first shared on Fred Aminu Facebook page
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