You’re a mother of eight. Every day is backbreaking. There is no respite from the constant nags of your children. Sending them to school isn’t possible due to the health pandemic: COVID-19. Your husband works from home, and he is doing it from our bedroom. And while you're grateful for His blessings, you’ve another child on the way.

Today is like yesterday. You wake up, kiss your husband, and leave him to his work. You go to the kitchen and put on your flower-patterned apron. The kids will wake soon and they’ll be hungry. You think that it might be a good idea to start teaching the children to cook, and your mother’s voice echoes to you: “It is a woman’s duty to take care of all the household chores.” You fire the pan and fry bacon and eggs.

One by one your children come. They bang their crockery. “I’m hungry!” they say. You smile because you should and kiss each of them on the head. In time, they’ll come to appreciate the love you’ve shown. That is what you believe and you know God smiles at you for it. And when breakfast is done, you’ll teach them. Every day is like this.

You pray, “Thank you for gifting us each day.” There is no response but you know He is listening.

You wonder if you've been a good wife. Your husband might say, “You’re doing a terrific job, honey.” But you can't ask him at the moment; he’s working.

Another day has passes. You shower. Everyone is appreciative of your hard work, but you know you’re not doing enough. When you teach, you sometimes can’t answer every question. When you wash the dishes, you sometimes miss a stain. You’re a better woman than that. Nobody needs an incompetent housewife. You feel the water is hot and you turn it cold. It is still hot.

It’s time for bed. Your husband is still working, so you try to sleep without him. You dream. God comes and tells you, “Blinky tink tink. You stink! You stink!”

“I do not!” you say.

“Oh ho ho. Who do you think you’re talking to?” God jibes.

“I am a good mother!” you retort.

God cackles. “Have you seen your friends on Facebook? They're having a gay time! Look at their faces. Look at their love! Where’s yours?”

You recall your friends on social media. They’re all happy. You’re awash with shame; you can never replicate your friends’ smiles.

God rolls in laughter. You flush and hot tears fall.

You wake with shivers and cold sweat. It is pitch black and you hear your husband’s breaths beside you. He doesn't deserve you. He needs a better wife. You go outside, to the shed. There you find rope and a strong overhead beam. You find a crate, throw the rope over the beam, tie the noose, stand on top the crate, pull the noose around your neck, then kick the crate away.

The rope gnaws your skin. You can't breathe. You pray, “My family needs a better housewife. Please.”

Your vision goes dark.