Two days after our wedding, my husband called me aside… He looked me in the eyes and said, "So many marriages fail because one person wasn’t completely honest from the start. I don’t want that to be our story." Then he continued: "I lied to you about being a graduate. I didn’t graduate from university. My ‘certificate’ is fake. I lied because I know how much you love educated men.” “Lastly… I’m not into import and export of international goods. I’m just a humble trader with a small shop where I sell second-hand clothes. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I’m being honest now because you’re my wife, and I don’t want any secrets between us. You can speak now.” I was shocked. I stood speechless looking at him. I’m 25 years old and I had other suitors especially my ex who’s 29 and the only reason I didn’t marry him is because he’s an ordinary video editor. That’s why I agreed to married this 30 years old man when he began disturbing me for marriage. Imagine breaking up with a video editor for a small time second-hand trader. The irony of it made me laugh. This cunning devil waited until after our marriage to reveal all these things. I can speak now, really? I took a deep breath, staring at the man I had married just two days ago. The man who had just unraveled a series of lies with the casual ease of someone confessing they forgot to buy meat and fish at the market. My head spun. My heart pounded. I could have left it at that—at my anger, at my betrayal. But something inside me snapped. A dark, twisted amusement curled inside my chest. He wanted honesty? Fine. He would get it. I let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking my head. Then I looked him dead in the eyes. “You want the truth abi?” I said, my voice calm, almost too calm. He nodded hesitantly. “Alright. I lied too.” His eyes flickered with confusion. “About what?” I smiled—a slow, deliberate smile. “I’m not 25” I said. “I’m 31.” His brows knitted together. “What?” “And my younger brother, our last born Palmer…isn’t really my brother. He’s my son. I got pregnant as a teenager The color drained from his face. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again, “What—what do you mean?” He stammered. “You’re lying.” I tilted my head. “Am I?” His breathing turned shallow, his hands clenching into fists. “What kind of an an!mal are you?” A deafening, soul-crushing silence. Then, a sharp, humorless chuckle escaped from my throat. “And you know the funniest part?” I pulled back to look into his wide, horrified eyes. “I wasn’t even going to tell you. Not today, not ever. But since we’re being honest now… here we are.” He staggered like a man who was drunk. “You… you deceived me?” I crossed my arms, tilting my head slightly. “I did what I had to do. Just like you did.” His face twisted in agony, rage, disbelief. He looked at me like I was a stranger, like the woman he had married was dissolving before his eyes. And in that moment, I think he realized something. I wasn’t the one who had been played. He was The End Ajebo Writer ©️Kingdavid Chinaeke Ofunne