My wife Sgt Sophia is back home after her false imprisonment, and it feels like I’m getting married anew. Why? I wasn’t ready for the Sophia who came back.

“Where are the knives?” she asks me as she prepares to make supper. “You’re not hiding them from me, are you?”

“Erm… what? Of course not. Why would I?”

“I didn’t spend that long in prison, you know. It’s not like I’m going to shiv you or something.”

“Shiv me? What’s that?”

She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, hun, don’t act like you don’t know the name of a prison knife. Anyway, here it is.”

She looks around, clouded in confusion.

“Wait. Why is the whole house different? Nothing is where I left it.” She turns to me, eyes hot with passion. “Sgt Makini, who has been living here while I was gone?”

“What do you mean ‘who’? Me. I’ve been living here.”

“Please tell me it’s not that slut from the hotel.”

“Erm…”

“Don’t erm me, Makini. You know who I’m talking about. Fatma Nono, the one who’s always coming to the police post to report nothing and only there to see you.”

“Stop it, Sophia. You know nothing has ever happened between me and Fatma. I don’t even know the last time I saw her.”

She comes to me, the newly found knife in hand. “Is it because I told you I had a prison girlfriend? That was a dire necessity. I needed protection. Besides, nothing happened between us. It’s not like I was all over her cell, rearranging her stuff.”

“Sophia!” I stand up, hoping to re-establish some balance. “Nothing happened while you were away, okay? I only put stuff where it was convenient for me. That’s all.”

For a while she stares deep into my eyes. I’m not sure what she sees in there, but her stance softens. Holding the knife behind her, she embraces me with one arm and kisses me passionately on the lips.

She pulls back abruptly and swings the knife around. “You know I love you Makini, right?”

I know she does, but she rarely says it. “And I love you too, hun,” I say.

“That’s why I need you to deliver a message to Fatma Nono and all those other b***s who might have designs on you. I need you tell them that no one plays with Sophia’s man. That I won’t hesitate to shank anyone who invades my territory. Can you do that for me?”

I gently push the knife hand away from my face. “Sophie, did you just say ‘b***s’? I’ve never head you employ such vulgar language before.”

She goes back to the kitchen section of our one-room flat and begins chopping onions a little too vigorously for my liking. “That was the old me. She was soft. Prison hardens you, you know.”

“Sophia, you just said it yourself. You were in prison for what, two months? That’s hardly enough time to turn into this…”

“This what, Makini? Go on. Let’s hear it.”

She stops chopping and turns towards me. I don’t like what I see in her eyes. Something bright and hard and dangerous. My wife’s beautiful eyes are still in there somewhere, but they’re hidden behind something else. Something that scares me to bits.

“Nothing,” I say, hoping it’s the right thing at the moment. “I’m very glad you’re here. Welcome home. I’ve missed you.”

She looks around and shakes her head. “I’ll feel welcome once I know the kind of person I’m sharing the room with, okay?”

“You’re not serious. This isn’t—”

She bursts with laughter. “I’m just kidding. You should see your face.”