All Chapters of A Man To Marry: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Anne (Dinam's mother)  I have a very bad feeling. I've been having a lot of premonitory dreams lately. I'm no diviner, but I can sense when something bad is about to happen. I wake up all the time with a start in my diaper, because I have this constant dream where I see my son crying bitter tears. I don't know what to do to end this tragedy that is about to happen. Or how to go about avoiding another round of hard times for my son. The poor! He had to go through so much hardship since his childhood. Just when he is about to find happiness and enjoy it alongside the one he loves, already dark shadows are already walking above this happiness. It's nice to call me paranoid, but I remain convinced that the next few days are likely to be dark. Also, I have suspicions, although unfounded, vis-à-vis Martine. This woman has never inspired me with confidence. She is deceitful, she is a bird of bad omen. And that didn't take me long to realize. Despite these a

Maieil I have never been so disappointed in my entire life by a person. I can't understand Dinam betraying us like this. To bind on the side of our competitor, and for what reason? Did he give her money? Is it that important? Was the money worth screwing up? I thought he was sincere. I swallowed his words like words of gospel whereas for him, all that interested him all this time, it was only money. And to think that at first he gave the impression of not being interested in the money, he got me. It was all pure strategy to lure me into his net, and it worked. I regret having believed him. I regret having offered to sign this marriage contract. I was so obsessed with the idea of ​​running away from the suitor that Martine offered me, to the point of doing anything. Going so far as to blindly trust the first comer, whom I knew neither Adam nor Eve! In the end, it was Martine who was right all along. Maybe I should have just followed what she asked me to do. What angers me even more is

Dinam I put my hand to my forehead and pat it gently. I must be very zoned out, that's the only explanation. Am I dreaming standing up? My mother's death must surely be playing tricks on me. Indeed, since she left, I haven't slept enough. My thoughts also left with her. So it doesn't surprise me that I'm hallucinating right now. After removing my hand from my forehead, I ask the question to this man who is then very calm until then. I make sure to listen carefully so as not to hear something similar again, as earlier. "Please forgive me for looking dazed Sir, the pain of losing my mother is still fresh in my mind, and I think it's been playing tricks on me lately. What were you saying to time ?" "Your mind isn't playing tricks on you boy. You heard what I meant. I'm your daddy, you're my son." Aded this man standing in front of me, whom I start to look at strangely. He looks so calm though that I think he might have a mental problem. "I don't believe you sir! What do you want b

Dinam It's already been a week to the day today, since I buried my mother. The pain is still great. It seems that she is inked in me and is one and the same and body. Today exceptionally, I decide to get out of bed and do some tidying up in my apartment. I put my mother's suitcases in the second bedroom. I don't intend to touch it anytime soon. The memory of his death being still fresh in my head, I cannot see them at the risk of remembering events that will make me more depressed. Because right now, I'm really in a big depression. I spent all this week lying on my bed without taking a bath or putting anything in my mouth. It's when I feel a violent dizziness jolt me ​​as I get out of bed this morning that I realize I haven't really put a single piece of bread in my mouth since my mother was put six feet under. I take my phone, which has also been neglected by me all this time. I call a restaurant that I know well for the quality of their service, and I order something to eat. I then

Dinam Sitting on my bed, envelope in hand, I wonder what it might contain. What is this information that my mother wanted me to know once she was gone? What is it really about? What information will I find there? I ask myself all these questions while staring at the envelope I'm holding in my hand, without having the courage to open it. I would be lying if I said that I don't feel the slightest fear of reading what's in this envelope. My heart is beating a mile an hour right now. I imagine the worst scenario. I hope I'm not going to learn something I don't want to know about my mother. I'm so worried about this idea that I want to put this envelope back in my suitcase and not read it again, at least not anytime soon. It's true, my life has been complicated enough lately that if I read something unfavorable for me inside, I would sink deeper into depression as I do my best to get out of it. I stay more than thirty minutes to think about any possible information that this envelope coul