By Cynthia Chioma Opara
No one ever starts a marriage thinking it will unravel over a bowl of egusi soup.
Yet, in a small rented flat on the outskirts of town, that is exactly where the first thread began to loosen.
Two weeks ago, a man returned home late from work and asked his wife for egusi soup — spicy, the way he liked it. She had already cooked vegetable yam for the family. Tired, perhaps offended by his lateness, she refused to make another meal and instead asked why he had come home so late.
That simple question ignited the spark.
In his own telling, anger clouded his judgment. To “prove a point,” he picked up his phone, put it on speaker, and called another woman. He asked her to cook the meal his wife had refused to prepare. She agreed — even offered to rush out to buy the ingredients before the market closed. Right there in front of his wife, he sent her the money.
He described the moment as triumphant. He thought he was teaching his wife a lesson about respect.
That night he ate and slept at the other woman’s place.
By dawn, his own home was empty. His wife, Cynthia Amara, had left — and she took their twin boys with her.
Since then, the man has been calling relatives, searching for her, insisting she must be hiding with another man. Her phone is switched off. The twins are gone. The home is silent except for his anger.
He says now that he no longer cares about the marriage; he only wants his sons back.
But in the gaps between his accusations, another story lingers — of a woman who may have felt humiliated, of children caught between feuding parents, of a marriage that mistook dominance for love.
A bowl of soup cannot hold a family together.
Neither can wounded pride.
What will become of the twins is the most urgent question. Until they are safe, the quarrels about respect, cooking and late-night phone calls remain trivial.
Families break not because of one argument, but because small acts of disregard calcify into bitterness.
This story is a reminder: when ego becomes the loudest voice in a home, children are often the first to pay the price.