The Forbidden Love

By Isabel Maynard

The Forbidden Love... is it a sin to love you?

Angela Tawa married her high school sweetheart believing it was true love on both sides. But just two years into her marriage physical and emotional abuse has left Angela questioning Martin’s motives for marrying her. Feeling helpless and afraid to leave the marriage, but also wanting to keep a family unit for their two sons, she continues to suffer the abuse in silence.

Then a meeting with Zachariah Rapakho spikes feelings in her – feelings she thought she only had for her husband – throwing her world into turmoil, leaving her in a state of strong temptation she has never before faced in her life. Will she be able to resist Zachariah and the palpable chemistry between them putting her morals to the test?

The Forbidden Love is a novel that makes strong statements about important matters such as love, morals, power, beliefs and human frailty under the pressure of desires. A novel of sensual delight as we follow Angela, a beautiful, brave, humble and magnificent woman of a strong standing in her community, being swept away in a timeless journey through the tantalising pleasure of a tender romance, exquisite passion and a glimpse at love she so desires. Will she hang on to her failed marriage in a bid to maintain a family unit for her children, sacrificing her chances of being truly loved and finding happiness?

A gripping, glamorous, memorable and heart-stopping novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isabel Maynard
• Release date: Sep 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9780620622981

Book preview

The

Forbidden

Love

About The Author

Isabel S. Maynard is currently a 59-year-old grandmother and happily married to her high school sweetheart, Maynard. They have three beautiful children: Tendai, Gwinyai and Simbarashe, all grown up now. Isabel is also a proud grandmother to Kylie and Kyle Makumbe and has recently welcomed her new daughter-in-law, Megha into the family. She is a retired midwife, a profession she found truly fulfilling. Isabel loves gardening, enjoys decorating her home, cooking and of course reading as well as spending as much time as possible with her grandchildren who are a great source of joy to her. She is greatly touched by all issues regarding women’s affairs and is always at the forefront to make sure as many women as possible are empowered, loved and granted the respect they deserve instead of facing a lot of abuse as is currently happening around the world. She believes charity begins at home and is therefore grateful to be in a position to make sure every girl child in her family – nieces and cousins, obtain a high standard of education as the first step to empowering them.

Copyright © 2016 Isabel Maynard

Published by Isabel Maynard Publishing at Smashwords

First Edition 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any image/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Edited by Lorna King for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: [e-mail]

DISCLAMER

Although this story was inspired by a real life experience, all the characters, incidents and statements have no existence outside the imagination of the author. They are not related to anyone bearing the same name or names. The author has not been inspired by any individual whether known by the author or not and all incidents are purely a creation by the author. Any similarities in statements, is purely coincidental.

Excerpt From Book

As she reached the door, his control suddenly snapped and he shot out of his chair and dashed to grab her hand like a man in a dream, tugging her to his body. She could feel his aroused body pressing hard against her tummy. She felt the answering heat begin to pool between her thighs and she gave a sob of wretched despair. The weeks without him had been hell. Now she was back in his arms once more and she accepted whole-heartedly that this was where she belonged; her reason for living. But does he still love me or is it lust on his part and what about Constance? All these thoughts were running wildly in her head as she clung to him, the knowledge that it might not be love on his part tearing her apart.

As she looked at him, startled by his behaviour, his eyes were half hidden by his heavy eyelids but she could still see the glint of feral hunger. She stood paralysed as he now slid his fingers into her hair and tugged her head back. His mouth was so close to hers, so much so that she could feel his breath on her lips. I must not respond to him – no, I mustn’t. But her whole body was trembling. I will surely die if he doesn’t kiss me…. She gave a little moan, half pleasure, half despair when he simply traced the contours of her lips with his tongue and she could not help but part her lips in readiness for him to plunge his tongue full into her moist cavity. She clung fiercely to his shoulders, experiencing a clamouring need to feel him deep inside her; for his body to join with hers in the mating ritual became uppermost in her mind, completely forgetting where they were.

Acknowledgements

My thanks go to many mothers worldwide for giving me the inspiration to write The Forbidden Love; women who have sacrificed and deprived themselves of the basic human right to love in order to give their children a family unit. These women give their children the greatest gift a mother can give a child – love, a sense of belonging and security. You all have a strong heart and should stand tall and proud above the rest. I salute you all but you deserve to be loved too as a woman should. Thank you too my darling Maynard for being there always.

Chapter one

Where is he? Why isn’t he home yet? It’s getting late and I can’t keep the boys up any longer, Angela Tawa mumbled to herself as she stood looking out the kitchen window into the night, the bright stars twinkling back at her.

Isn’t it a wife’s right to know where her husband is? she thought. We used to be so in love – what happened to us? She sighed tiredly as fond memories flooded her mind bringing a sad smile to her lips.

Angela stood at the window a while longer, with great sadness filling her heart as she reminisced about the past, wondering where all the love she and Martin had shared had gone to.

At the sound of her son’s voice she snapped back to the present.

Mommy, are you coming to read me my bedtime story? I’m tired and want to go to sleep.

I’m coming Luke dear, she called back to him, heading up the stairs to her sons’ room. Six-year-old Luke and Jason, aged nine, were her solace and she lived for the two of them. They kept her focused, and she loved them very much. She would do anything in the world for them. She knew her husband loved them too. If nothing else he was a good father.

Angela read Luke a story and settled the boys in for the night. She had allowed them to stay up waiting for their father to come home, but it was now so late and she had no idea where Martin was or whether he would even be coming home as he usually did every Saturday.

A while later she saw headlights in the driveway. Even though she was relieved he was home, her heart started pounding with dread. She waited at the front door for him – knowing full well there would be trouble if she wasn’t there to greet him.

Hello honey how was your trip? she said sweetly as he walked in.

It was OK I guess, he replied, handing her his jacket and travel bag before reaching over to give her a kiss on her cheek. How are the boys? Are they asleep yet?

Yes, I’ve just settled them in.

Why did you do that? You knew I was coming home, and you know I always miss my boys and want to see them when I get home. Now I have to wait until tomorrow, he groaned, anger already clouding his face.

I tried to delay them going to bed for as long as possible, and I even allowed them to play video games. But they were tired and I didn’t know what time you’d be home.

But you knew I was coming home Angela. No matter how late it was going to be I was coming home! he snapped at her.

You can look in on them – maybe Jason is still awake. She tried to pacify him, but he was already looking for an excuse to be angry with her. He had been drinking – she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

If you think you can spoil my relationship with the boys, you’re mistaken. We are tight, my boys and me.

I know that Martin, the boys love you too. Go up and kiss them goodnight. It doesn’t matter if you wake them, besides tomorrow isn’t a school day.

He looked at her for a long moment then staggered up the stairs to the boys’ room.

Phew, that was close, she thought to herself as she made her way to the kitchen. After a few minutes she heard him coming down the stairs.

Were they still awake? she asked, a little afraid.

"No they weren’t, thanks to you," he said harshly.

Have you eaten? Angela said changing the subject, noticing that he was getting angrier by the minute and could spiral out of control in no time at all.

He staggered down the corridor to their bedroom and within minutes he was sitting at the table. Angela placed covered dishes containing chicken casserole, rice and an open salad bowl in front of him.

On opening the first dish, Martin drew in a sharp breath. Angela – what is this? This isn’t steak!

We had chicken casserole for supper, it was very nice and I know you enjoy my chicken casseroles so I kept some warm for you, she said moving away from him as she could see the anger in his eyes starting to rage.

You are offering me leftovers for supper? He took the dish with the chicken casserole and threw it to the floor, breaking the dish in two and splattering the casserole all over the plush carpet. Do you know how long I’ve been on the road, and you’re offering me leftovers? he shouted. "Do you know who I am? I am the head of this family, your husband. Have you forgotten that you carry my name? And may I remind you of how hard I work to keep you in a life of luxury you enjoy so much. Is it too much to ask my wife to give me what I want when I come home? You of all people should know how particular I am with food, and that I love steak and chips on Saturdays, freshly cooked, even if I come home at midnight. Do you hear me Angela? Do you hear me?" he shouted, shaking her violently like a ragdoll.

Yes, I heard you Martin, keep your voice down or you’ll wake the boys. I’ll make you steak and chips. But please don’t hurt me, she said cowering away from him. I’ll quickly go and make it now, she added.

Ah, but you’ve forgotten your husband’s desires Angela, and I think you need a reminder so that it will never happen again. How can you be so forgetful? Eh, how could you forget your wifely duties, Angela? He was encroaching on her and suddenly grabbed at her hair, giving her a vicious clap across her cheek making her reel backwards falling to the floor, blood oozing from her cut lip. Not finished with her, he kicked her cowering body in the ribs several times before stepping over her sobbing, sorrowful body, and left the room. Get a move on woman, I’m hungry, he shouted back at her.

Slowly she scrambled to her feet, wincing from the pain, with blood still oozing from the cut on her upper lip and limped to the freezer to get a steak. Her head cocked to the side and tears streaming down her cheeks, she wondered if he had ever really loved her. How can someone say they love you, yet at the same time inflict so much pain on you? Is love supposed to hurt this much? she pondered with great sadness in her heart. What am I doing so wrong to make him this angry with me? Maybe I deserve these beatings. Maybe I provoke him?

He knew she had been at work that day as he demanded to know all her shifts at work in advance and all her other activities when he was away from home.

She finished making his supper and called him to eat. By now the tears had stopped flowing and only a heavy feeling remained in the pit of her stomach. I know he loves me. If he didn’t love me, why would he continue to come back home to me and the kids? He must still love me. She tried desperately to comfort her tortured soul.

Angela, that was delicious, my love, he said wiping his mouth on a serviette. Have I told you lately, what a fantastic cook you are? You know it’s your cooking that keeps me coming home to you? Come and sit with me, he continued as Angela hovered in the doorway waiting to clear away the dishes.

Did I do that to your face? Oh – I’m sorry my love. You know I love you, don’t you? I just wish you would do as I asked and there would be none of this roughness. It is your fault, you know. You like to provoke me. Sometimes I think you disobey me on purpose so that I will hit you. Do you like it rough Angela? Does it turn you on?

She looked at him with disbelief in her eyes, and shook her head. He thinks I enjoy being beaten. He leaned over and tried to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her head and his kiss landed on her cheek instead.

Let us go to bed now. I’m tired it was a long drive home. I just need to hold you in my arms, he continued.

She looked at him as he stood up, pushing the chair he was sitting on away impatiently and taking her hand in his. The thought of him touching her turned her blood ice cold, but she knew she couldn’t stop him from touching her. She felt anger overwhelming her. He doesn’t even care that my body aches all over and my soul is tormented.

Let go of me Martin. I can’t bear to have you touch me right now.

Oh, is that so? But you’re my wife Angela and I will touch you as I want, anywhere I want. I will also love you anyway I want to love you – and there’s not a single thing you can do about it as long as I am your husband. So save your breath, oh…, my poor, poor Angela, he smirked as she tried to pull away from him, but he merely tightened his hold on her.

You really think so? You know what, before I can be your wife, a mother to your children, a daughter or sister or even an aunt, I am first and foremost me, Angela, and not even you can ever take that away from me, do you understand? she screamed at him, tears threatening to spill as she tried hard not to cry in front of him. That was the last time you hit me. Do you understand? I will not stand for these beatings anymore, she said; her voice full of anger, her eyes glaring at him fiercely as she thumped so hard on his chest with her free hand that he let go of her and cowered away. But once at a distance he started laughing as if to ridicule everything she had said.

So what are you going to do to me? Hit me back? Seriously Angela, what can you do to me? In one swift move he slapped her across her face with so much force that she reeled backwards, almost hitting the opposite wall as she fell to the floor. He was laughing like a demented man as he towered over her sobbing body. Oops – I think I just beat you again, he said, both his hands on his hips as he looked down at her sobbing figure. Get up Angela and show me what you’re going to do to me. I’m waiting. Show me what you’ve got girl, he repeated as she remained curled up in a tight ball on the floor.

He pulled her to her feet and dragged her to their bedroom.

"I want to make love to you now, he hissed. I’ve been away for a week and I’m hungry for you," he grunted. Once inside their bedroom he slammed the door shut. His fingers swiftly pulled her sweater and jeans off followed by her underwear. She stood in front of him naked, shivering with fear of what he was capable of doing to her. He slowly let his eyes take in the fullness of her breasts and her beautifully curved body. Even after two kids she still had a body to be proud of. He felt his arousal heightening.

Kneel on the edge of the bed, he ordered.

But Martin, I’m not in the mood. Let’s just go to sleep.

I said kneel on the edge of the bed Angela, he hissed again. She didn’t move.

Did you not hear me? Or should I assume you’ve been making love to other men while I’ve been away? he said sternly.

No, that’s not true, and you know it, she answered assertively.

Then kneel on the edge of the bed. I’m ready to take you and that’s all that matters. You don’t have to be ready, he said in a ridiculing tone.

Sighing heavily, Angela moved to the bed and lay down, curling on the edge of it with her knees drawn towards her chest. She felt that if she was in the foetal position, she could protect herself from anymore suffering and her hands clenched into tight fists. There was no fight left in her. Anyway – fighting only brought more suffering.

Martin looked down at her on the bed. She looked so timid that for a moment he was tempted to perform sodomy on her knowing how degrading it would be to her – but then decided against it. He wondered why she allowed him to do all those terrible things to her. Oh hell, so often I’ve questioned why I’m this cruel to her. After all, she is the mother of my children, he sighed, then realised that perhaps power was the leading factor. ‘You have to control your wife, otherwise she will control you. A wife needs to know early on in the marriage that you are the boss,’ his uncle had told him the day before his wedding. So this is the manly thing to do to make sure you’re the one in control in your marriage, he concluded in support of his cruel tendencies towards his wife.

He unzipped his trousers and pulled down the pants and underwear to his knees before proceeding to take her so roughly that she screamed in pain. Unperturbed, he didn’t stop the savage onslaught on her tender flesh till he was done. Fastening his trousers he went into the bathroom shutting the door.

Angela lay on the bed sobbing quietly, still curled up into a ball. After a while she got up and, noticing that Martin had settled on the bed, went to take a hot shower in a bid to soothe the aches and pains. Wrapped in a towelling gown, she stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at her sleeping husband. What a monster, to think he could actually beat me up and then rape me. What kind of a man has he turned into? At that moment she really hated him. Where has my Martin gone to... where is the man who vowed to love me, to cherish me, to protect me till death do us part? she thought. At this moment she realised she had been in love with a dream – and this was the reality she was now living through.

She left the bedroom and went to the children’s room. She couldn’t bear to be in the same room as him for another minute, and besides she needed to see her children. Perhaps seeing them would strengthen her withering spirit. It was only because of the boys that she stayed with Martin. She tiptoed to Luke’s bed and quietly settled down next to him so as not to wake him up. Only then did she allow the tears to flow softly. After tossing and turning restlessly, she managed to fall into a deep sleep.

The following morning Angela woke up before the boys and crept back to her bedroom. She didn’t want them to see her bruised face. Jason was old enough to notice something was wrong and would ask questions. What could she tell him? That his father had hit her? She didn’t want a young, innocent boy to carry such a heavy burden.

She locked herself in the bathroom and took a hot shower, then applied layers of make-up to hide the purple bruises on her face.

When she came out of the bathroom Martin was still fast asleep. She looked down at him, and at that moment he looked so vulnerable, so innocent and still so very handsome that her heart gave a vicious kick in response. She could harm him right now if she wanted to, could even kill him, but what good would come out of that? Looking at him she realised she had to find a way to get out of the current situation. The abuse had been going on for too long – and it couldn’t be allowed to continue.

Martin and Angela had met in high school. Angela had been so apprehensive on her first day at a new school. The daughter of a policeman, it meant her family moved around quite a lot. She remembered feeling really lost in her new environment, but then Martin had come to her rescue. Of course, Angela had been a beautiful girl with big brown eyes, clear honey-coloured skin, dimples which would deepen as her smile grew broader, and naturally curly black hair groomed to perfection. Martin had an eye for pretty girls – apparently all pretty girls.

From the moment they met Angela and Martin were inseparable. Oh, how she had been so flattered to be Martin’s girlfriend – envied by most of the girls at school to be seen on the arm of such a handsome man. He was well built indeed, tallish with a well toned, muscled frame. His thick curly black hair and lion-brown eyes with long lashes were what most girls would kill for to own. To top it all he was captain of the soccer team.

The day he told her he was in love with her, Angela’s world stopped spinning on its axis for a full minute. He had gone on to show her his love, through his caring nature, his understanding and consideration towards her. Even when she had told him she didn’t want to make love outside of marriage, he had simply hugged her and said he wanted the same thing too. Angela thought she had found wonderful husband material – Mr Perfect.

At school Angela had met Stella Jira and Sarah Mara who had remained her best friends, and who were now working as a lawyer and radiographer respectively – and still looking for Mr Right.

Amazingly, both Martin and Angela had been very ambitious and wanted to achieve their best in life. Angela trained to be a nurse at Harare Hospital, while Martin studied mechanical engineering at the University of Zimbabwe. They married a year after Martin graduated.

Martin’s engineering business had become very successful, but it took him away from home most of the time, allowing him the chance to come home on Saturdays only, sometimes for a day before leaving again.

Of course they lived a very comfortable life. They owned their double-storey house set on two acres of land in the prestigious suburb of Mt Pleasant, and enjoyed a swimming pool and vast manicured lawns for the boys to play on. Angela didn’t need to work, but she enjoyed her job as the principal matron at The Royal Park Hospital, a private hospital in the city of Harare.

Two years into their marriage Angela realised the man she had married was an abuser. Her prince charming was not as charming as she had thought him to be. He started abusing her verbally and physically, was demanding, argumentative, and developed a mightier than thou attitude. His way was the only way. Regardless of what time he came home, he wanted her to wait on him hand and foot. As far as he was concerned, her work was not done till all his whims had been met – and that included passion in bed too, irrespective of whether she was in the mood to make love or not.

Usually the abuse was brought on by something silly – and sometimes for no apparent reason at all. He would find an excuse to start an argument, and more often than not would beat her. Angela never knew what mood he would come home in, and instead of rejoicing his home-coming after the week’s separation, she dreaded and feared it.

Chapter two

The physical abuse by her husband last Saturday night weighed heavily on Angela’s heart. To think that she had put up with it this long, hoping things would change for the better, but in actual fact it was getting worse by the day.

At the hospital she had met abused women all the time, women who lied about the sources of their injuries in order to protect their partners and families. In most cases the partners were the bread-winners, and the women were unable to support their families on their own. She realised she was one of them, and understood why they refused to acknowledge that perhaps their marriage had failed and they had fallen in love with the wrong partner.

These women would rather die in their relationships than let the world know about their failures. Desperate women – who came in with their heads bowed and no sense of self-worth – would lie about falling down the stairs to save their marriages. Unfortunately, communities look down on these victims of domestic violence and sexual abuse, adding shame and punishment to the burden of these women instead of targeting the perpetrators of the abhorrent crimes. And sadly, many of these women did die before help could get to them.

Culture, on the other hand and in Angela’s case, made it difficult to acknowledge her abuse in public or to leave her abuser as it was taboo for a woman to walk away from her husband and marriage. It was even difficult for Angela to tell her mother, aunts and friends. Martin was adored by her entire family. And considering that he was a charmer and gentleman when with them, spoiling everyone with expensive gifts, Angela knew no one would ever believe that Martin was abusing her. They all thought she had married well and was the envy of her friends. Even if she were to complain she would probably be told, That is what men do, he will settle down with age, or You must be doing something to provoke him. If you are a good wife why would he hit you? Angela felt very lonely, not having anyone to turn to, and never told anyone – but instead kept this dark secret to herself.

Deep down she knew her marriage was over, but didn’t know what to do. Should she put up with the abuse for the rest of her life? Could she possibly leave Martin and take the kids? He was much more powerful than she was, with friends in high places. And financially he was much more stable than she was or would ever be. Does money surpass a mother’s love for her children? she pondered feeling down-hearted. Considering those circumstances she knew she might have a tough time winning custody of her boys. But she really didn’t want to take them away from their father either. They loved their father so very much. Somehow I just have to stop the abuse, she told herself assertively.

She decided to join a gym and take self-defence classes. Maybe if I’m in a position to protect myself and fight back, he might leave me alone. I just want to keep my family together, she contemplated.

Suddenly she felt very excited. At least she was trying to change the situation. She picked up the phone and called her friend Sarah. Of all her friends Sarah was the adventurous one and would try anything within reason.

Sarah, how are you today, my friend? she said excitedly.

Hi Angie, you sound very happy this morning. What are you up to, girlfriend? Sarah asked.

I’ve been feeling fat and tired recently and know it’s from not doing enough exercise. So I was wondering if maybe we should join the gym and throw in some self-defence lessons at the same time. What do you think?

Why on earth would you want self-defence lessons? It’s not as if you’re in an abusive marriage my friend? You married Mr Prince Charming – we all know that, Sarah chuckled.

Oh, no…, I don’t need to defend myself from Martin. It’s just that I was watching a programme on TV about the high crime rate in our country. It got me thinking – you can be a sitting duck in your own home and with Martin away most of the time, I just feel I need to be able to better protect the kids and myself. So what do you think?

OK, let’s go to gym. There’s one near the hospital and I’ve heard it’s quite good. Or do you know of any others?

The one nearby sounds good; especially as we’re both working here at the hospital. Also, we won’t have an excuse to bunk classes when the going gets tough, she chuckled. Another thing, please don’t mention this to either Martin or anyone else. I want to surprise Martin with my trim body and moves, she asked of her friend.

It’s not as if you ever need to slim down Angela, we’re all envious of that body of yours. You’ve still got it girl, even after two children. Lucky you, Sarah told her.

"Ah, but everyone’s always teasing me that I’m a potato couch. What they don’t see is the amount of walking I do up and