I hate men! All of them motherfuckers can go to hell! I mean that.It don't matter their age. I do not give a shit about their race! Fuck their height!

They can all keep their goddamn money. I don't need it. I do not need them, sorry-ass bastards!

The Diary of Ayesha Campbell

The angry black woman watched her husband from across the room. She was sitting on the floor of a four-bedroom apartment and breastfeeding an infant boy.

The suckling noises of her fifth child further irritated Ayesha. Every time the baby nursed from her breasts it caused her uterus to contract. That shit hurt—

She felt the warm flow of blood leak from her vagina. She was still passing small clots.

The Ob/Gyn instructed the new mother to watch out for excessive bleeding and severe pain.

Ayesha readjusted her position on the floor in the living room as she tried to deal with the unchecked hormones raging around inside of her body.

"I'm not asking for a divorce," said the charismatic man with dark skin, high cheekbones, and sexy brown eyes.

Ayesha flinched.

The baby was being rough with her nipple. He no longer drank from it but instead pulled on the sensitive flesh.

Kyson Campbell seemed to playfully gnaw on the areola while smiling up at his mother. He was content in her arms.

The frustrated woman ignored her nurturing instincts as she watched Maxwell.

"No?" questioned Ayesha. "I don't believe you. You've been pushing this agenda for months. Even before his birth."

She motioned her head in the direction of their son.

"It seems like you've already contacted a divorce lawyer. I'm just waiting to get served my papers."

”Divorcing you would be the easy way out," Maxwell spoke calmly. His demeanor displayed restraint and control. "I am committed to you and the kids. I'd never leave you all."

“Nothing you say is true. All you do is lie. Just be honest. You’re tired of being stuck in a relationship with me. You want your freedom back—”

Ayesha wasn’t handling this well. She was searching for ways to emotionally hurt him. Her comments were mean. They were spiteful.

She didn’t want her husband to know that his actions were destroying everything they had built together.

She loved and hated him. Her feelings kept fluctuating.

Ayesha adored their five beautiful children. She praised their nine-year marriage which produced their family.

And now, everything was falling apart. Her dreams were rapidly vanishing. She was losing him—

Maxwell walked to the living room closet. He pushed the door aside and retrieved his bag.

Ayesha stared.

He looked so attractive in the salmon-colored dress shirt and white slacks.

Of course, he did. The man always knew how to dress. His belt and shoes matched the pale shirt he wore.

She took in his beautiful appearance. She inhaled slightly and recognized the subtle notes of her favorite cologne.

She checked to see whether his wedding band was still in place. It was there. It glinted from his finger as he reached for his house keys.

Her chest ached with an indescribable pain. She realized the precarious situation that she was in.

Ayesha was a stay-at-home wife who depended on her man for financial security. He’d been providing for the household since the beginning.

She had no real, marketable skills. The thirty-something married young, and immediately out of high school.

Locking down Maxwell Campbell had been her one and only goal.

"I won't do it," she whispered. "I refuse to go along with this so-called plan. I didn't sign up for this craziness. I didn't agree to this warped lifestyle. I married you and only you--"

Maxwell was not fazed by his wife's words. He wasn't concerned with her resistance either. The woman would go along with his program.

She had to. She had no other choice.

What other options were there? Where could she go? Who'd take her in? The woman had four kids and a baby? No one was going to help her...

He turned to stare at his wife while slinging a leather bag over one shoulder, "Accept the facts, Babe. You have no money. You can’t get a job. I’m all that you got.”

Maxwell’s words stunned her.

She listened in disbelief.

Was this the man she’d married? Was he the one she’d vowed to love? It couldn’t be...

“We aren't in our twenties, Ayesha. At this stage in my life, I need more. I'm not the kid you married. I’ve grown up. I have changed.”

“I can truly see that,” she uttered angrily.

“I am a man,” he continued. “I will decide what’s good for my household."

Ayesha snapped back, "Who gave you that right? You will not dictate my life or my happiness—"

“These arguments have got to stop. They can't continue,” he warned softly. “I'm leaving. I cannot be late."

The baby began squirming in his mother's arms. The loud voices were agitating him.

Ayesha knew he was on the verge of crying. She offered the baby to her husband.

Maxwell took the displeased infant in his arms. He raised Kyson to his left shoulder and gently patted him on the back.

"Shhhush," said the smiling father. "It's alright. Mommy and Daddy are just working things out. Don't be afraid. It’s all good."

He looked at his wife. He waited for her to stand. When she was full height, he attempted to hand the baby back to her.

"We'll continue this later. Bianca is waiting for me downstairs. I have to go—"

"My God, you two are bold. This can't be happening to me."

Maxwell stepped forward, "Here's Kyson."

Ayesha backed away from him. She refused to take the infant.

She slowly moved out of his arms reach. She needed distance. She wanted lots of space.

"Please, don't do this," she begged. "I don't deserve this kind of treatment—"

“I’m gone,” he stated in a low voice. "There's nothing else to discuss. We're doing this."

Ayesha heard his callous, hard tone. It enraged her. It caused her heart to ache.

"If you want a second wife,” she remarked loudly. “Then let her take care of our son. She's got the job. Let her change those shitty diapers. She can mop up the baby's vomit because I am finished here. I'm so tired of your patriarchal bull shit. Fuck the both of you! I'm going to take a nap before the kids wake up."