I never thought the worst day of my life would start with roses. Not just any roses. Imported red roses. Twenty-one of them. One for each month we had been married? No, three years. I had counted them at the flower shop in Ikeja. The woman said, "Oga, your wife go like am well." I smiled. I believed her. I held them tight against my chest as the danfo dropped me at our estate gate. My shirt was sweaty. I had trekked from the bus stop to save the 500 naira bike money. I wanted to add it to Amara's anniversary gift. I called her on my way. "Babe, you dey house?" Her voice was sharp, rushed. "David? Why you dey call me by this time? I talk say I dey busy for shop." "I just wan hear your voice. I go see you soon." "I dey come house soon. Don't come early." She cut the call. I thought she was planning a surprise for me too. Our compound was quiet. The small white gate I painted myself last Christmas was locked from inside. I pushed the small side gate. It opened. Amara never locks the side gate when she is home alone. The parlor door was not locked either. That was when I heard it. A laugh. Not Amara's customer laugh. Her real laugh. The one she used to laugh when I cracked dry joke. And a man's laugh. Familiar. Too familiar. I stood at the door with the roses still in my hand. The smell of her favorite perfume mixed with sweat. Through the small opening of the door, I saw them. On our white sofa. The sofa we argued for three hours to buy at Ladipo market. The sofa where we prayed together every first Sunday. Amara was there. My Amara. In the red dress I sent money for from my last salary. The dress she said she would wear only for our anniversary dinner. On top of her was Tunde. Tunde Okafor. My best friend since secondary school. My best man. The man who ate rice in my house three days ago and called me "my brother, my blood." For a full minute, my brain refused to understand what my eyes were seeing. The roses in my hand became heavy. One petal fell. Then another. Then Amara saw me. "David!" She screamed. She jumped up, pulling the dress down. "David, no! It's not what you think! Jesus!" Tunde stood up too, grabbing his trousers. "Bros, bros, wait, make I explain, na devil work, bros calm down..." I did not say a word. I just dropped the roses on the floor. Twenty-one imported red roses scattered on the rug we bought together. I turned and walked away. I walked away from my house, from my three years, from my best friend and my wife on my own sofa. Outside, the estate children were playing. One of them called, "Uncle David, you don come back?" I did not answer. I kept walking. I did not know where I was going. I only knew that the house that knew my name five minutes ago, no longer knew me. That was the anniversary that broke me.