The Things We Put Off

Akpenvwogene Oghenevwogagan had never been lucky with women.
It wasn’t because he lacked value. He was a decent man, well put together, stable and capable of love but somehow, the women he gave his heart to never stayed long enough to understand him.

Take Sandra for instance, she had come into his life with ease and warmth. She enjoyed his presence, his attention and the quiet stability he offered. For a while, it felt real. But over time, her interest shifted. She began to outgrow what she once seemed to value. One day, she left, leaving him behind without any explanation. She just stopped picking his calls. By the time he understood what was happening, she was already gone.

Then there was Amaka. She was different. Or so he thought. Her story was different but the ending was the same. With her, he had been deeply involved, not just emotionally but in her growth. She leaned on him emotionally, financially and mentally. He became her support system. He helped her pay rent. Helped her with business ideas. He encouraged her when she wanted to give up. He had been her steady ground while she figured herself out. But when her business finally picked up, she changed. She said he was “too slow, too ordinary and he was not driven enough.” She moved on, leaving him behind with an ache in his heart.

After that, Akpenvwogene became careful with his heart. Then he met Tina.
It happened one Tuesday at the bank, when he went to open a new account. She was the one who attended to him.

“Full name?” she asked.

He hesitated as usual. Then he said it.
“Akpenvwogene Oghenevwogagan.”
She paused. Then she chuckled. Not loudly. Just a small, surprised laugh.

“Wow… that’s a mouthful.” she said with a smile on her face but he didn’t smile.
Her smile faded immediately.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… ” she said quickly

“It’s fine,” he replied. But it wasn’t. He was upset.

A week later, he returned to the bank because he needed to fix something with the account.
She saw him and stood up. Then she walked over to him.

“I owe you a proper apology,” she said. “Not the quick one I gave you the other day.”

He said nothing.

“Please let me take you to lunch,” she added.
He almost said no. But something about her made him pause. Then he nodded.

Lunch was nice. She asked about his name properly this time. She tried to pronounce it. Failed. Tried again. Laughed at herself. This time, he smiled
And from that day, something began.

Tina was intentional. She paid attention to the little things. She called when she said she would. She listened. If he sounded tired, she knew. If he was quiet, she asked why. She was attentive in ways he had never experienced. She didn’t use him and she didn’t leave either.

Their relationship grew naturally.
Two years later, Tina became his wife.
She was everything that made his life simple. She was a nurturer in every sense. As a wife, she loved with intention. As a mother, she gave her whole heart. As a person, she carried warmth that filled every space she entered. Their home reflected her orderly and peaceful nature.

She had a way of making things work. Where there were problems, she found solutions. Where there were gaps, she filled them. Where Akpos (as she fondly called him) was slow, she was quick.
Where he delayed, she acted. Where he waited, she solved. He believed most things could wait. He moved at his own pace. He was not careless, just unhurried.
It was the only thing Tina struggled with.
She believed in handling things immediately but he believed there was always time. He would nod. He would promise but he would still delay. This caused small but frequent tension between them.

So they had planned their annual leave together and they made a list… movies, outings, small trips, quiet days at home and some other fun activities.
That morning began like every other day in their home. It was day one of their leave. They had their devotion together. Prayed. Talked. Laughed. Then he sent her back to bed while he took over getting their daughter ready for school.
He did everything. Bathed her. Packed her lunch. Even sent the school bus away.
“I’ll drop her myself,” he said.

When he returned home, something felt odd. The house was too quiet. He went upstairs.
“Tina?” he called. No answer.
He checked the bedroom. It was empty.
Then he walked into the kitchen. And stopped. She was lying on the floor.
Still.
Lifeless.
The refrigerator stood slightly open.

The realization came slowly, then he remembered. The refrigerator had been faulty for weeks. It gave small electric shocks when touched. It had become a problem in the house, something uncomfortable, something dangerous, but somehow something he postponed.
Tina had wanted it fixed. She had complained many times.

“Akpos, this thing is dangerous. We need to change it. Please don’t delay this one.”

He had said he would call an electrician.
He had said he would check it.
He had said later but later never came.

By afternoon, the house was full. People everywhere. Voices, prayers, whispers.
Akpos sat in the middle of it all, feeling empty, carrying a weight that no one else could feel or understand.

Then Tina’s phone rang. It was a delivery company. Tired of waiting, she had acted. She had made the purchase.
A new refrigerator. A new deep freezer.
She had stopped waiting and fixed the problem.

As Akpos watched the delivery take place, his body could not hold the weight of what was happening. He collapsed. When he came back to himself, the reality was even heavier. Her voice filled his mind. The several warnings. The urgency. The need to act. All the times she had pointed out what needed to be done but he chose to delay.

His grief was not just loss. It was guilt. Deep, unrelenting guilt because this was not something fate had taken. It was something that could have been prevented. He lost the best part of his life because he chose to be careless.

The pain was not just in losing her. It was in understanding how easily it could have been avoided.
How something so small, so ordinary, had been allowed to remain unresolved until it became irreversible.

Some tragedies do not come as surprises. They come from the things we ignore. The things we delay. The things we believe can wait just a little longer.

Akpos would never delay again. But the one person who needed that change was no longer there to see it.