Merril fiddled nervously with the folds on her white cotton nightdress. The skin over her knuckles strained as her actions intensified. Her anxiety grew with each breath; never before had she faced such a perilous situation. She reached into the unzipped mouth of her imported handbag and pulled out an apparatus that was concealed in a plain brown paper bag. From this seemingly innocent parcel she withdrew the object that would decide her fate, and that of so many innocents. She felt the contents of her stomach churn and surge. Taking a deep breath, she opened the flap of the home pregnancy test.

This was her first time using a test of this sort. Not this particular make: she had never used a pregnancy test before. What was odd about this was that she had been pregnant before, twice. She had been married to the father of her children for the past eight years. She had seen these kits at the pharmacy before, but she had thought that the women who needed them were probably shameful, promiscuous women. She lived in a state of portrayed marital bliss with a well-decorated general in the Army of Zimbabwe. Her life had the fake high-gloss sheen that one finds on the cover of a fashion magazine; dazzling but temporary.

The glint of her elegant wedding band catching the mid-morning sunlight made her heart ache as she thought of the man who had given it to her years ago. She called to mind the handsome, serious man who had pledged his undying love and protection. Her smile now was nostalgic, thinking how foolish she had been to believe that her fairy tale would conclude with a happy ending.

She was a naive girl, only 17 when she caught the eye of a strapping new constable stationed at the base near her village. Their courtship was swift; they were married in much splendour less than a year later. Her husband, Dengwe, bore much of his work pressure squarely on his broad shoulders. Unfortunately for his family, he was often unable to unhinge his work stresses before he returned home. They lived in a luxurious three-bedroom house on the base, which was a perk of his superior rank. He began drinking beer nightly. At first it started with him wanting a beer before supper while playing with his children in their lush, grassy backyard and then again, two beers during the meal. Those numbers were bumped up drastically after the brutal murder of his colleague and close friend, Sebatu.

For a young flower like Merril, this sudden distance caused her to wither inside. She gradually became accustomed to the lonely, cold nights where he lay next to her, drunk and incapable of warming her with his love. It didn’t take much for her to be wooed. A coy smile from a young soldier delivering her husband’s briefcase one night, a pink Sabi star flower left on the kitchen windowsill every Sunday morning. Within two months of first locking eyes with the shy gentleman, the two were tangled in a dangerous love affair, and in her bed.

Tell us: What do you think of Merril’s decision to have an affair?