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What would you do if you caught your husband and your teenage daughter from a past relationship having sex?

Before I got married to , he knew I had a child out of wedlock and he accepted her and promised to treat her as his own and we have been living in peace till the day I bumped into him .

Timi is 18, and growing faster than her age and I have tried my best to be a good mother but little did I know that my young daughter was not as innocent as I thought. Though I tried to monitor her as best as I could, I knew she had some male friends though she kept them away from me.

It was an aunt who came visiting some months ago that first warned me that she did not find Demola's closeness to Timi funny, sensing that they did not act like a father and daughter, especially when I was not around.

further hinted that she suspected there was something sinister going on behind my back, stating that she had seen Demola sneak into Timi's room at odd hours. But I did not take Aunt Joke serious till I caught the two of them red handed.

The day of reckoning started like every other day for me as I left for work as early as I usually did but around 10am, I had this piercing stomach upset and had to rush to the hospital. The doctor told me I had beginning of dysentery and should go home, take some drugs and rest.

I called Demola to inform him but his phone was switched off, so I had to take a taxi home. I was surprised when I saw his car in the compound when I got back. I guessed he must have come home for something.

I had earlier sent Timi to the market, so when I went inside and did not see her, I thought she had gone to buy the foodstuff I had instructed her to.

I went to our bedroom and when I did not find Demola there and I went to the kitchen, thinking he would be there but he was not there. Instinctively, I made for Timi's room. On opening the door, I was almost thrown back by the force of what I saw.

There was my husband naked and in his full glory, humping on my equally naked daughter who was apparently enjoying the sexual intercourse. It was glaring that Demola did not rape her because she was equally responding to his thrusts.

I must have frozen on the spot for close to a minute and they did not know they had company. It was my screams that brought them back to earth and before I passed out, I saw them scramble apart.

I came out of coma in the hospital and that was when the reality hit me that I had caught my husband and daughter having sex.

All this happened two months ago and since then, I have not gone back to the house neither do I want anything to do with my husband and daughter.

They have been sending emissaries to beg me on their behalf and even my family members have been imploring on me to forgive them but how on earth can I live with the two of them again, with the picture still playing in my head?

Dear readers, Monisola is in great pains and needs your words of advice. On Morning Teaser today, we want you to help this sorrowful woman?

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All my preparations and quivering anticipation was to have ended in bliss, the kind only my father could give me… I was my father’s lover and he was mine. Everything was perfect.
I didn’t cry. It was painful what he did, but I didn’t cry. He said it was ok.
I didn’t cry the second time either. I liked it. He was gentler. He told me it was our secret, our special thing, and no one should know about it.
I went to him the third time it happened, it was raining and the thunders scared me. We did it again, I enjoyed it. We began to do it more often, and each time I enjoyed it more.
I was twelve that first time, and a happy child, happier than any other child I knew. I doubt if any other child had so much love. I was my father’s lover and he was mine. Everything was perfect.
And then, on my twentieth birthday, the unthinkable happened.
My father broke up with me. Just like that. He said it wasn’t right, what we do, and that we must stop. End of matter. It felt like a full stop at the end of an epitaph. It was too sudden.
I had no warning, no premonition. The break up was like death. I had taken the week off from school just to be with the only man in my life, the best man I ever knew, or so I thought. I thought my birthday would have ended sensually, like all the others. It was usually the best birthday present he gives me, a passionate night of love making right out of a romance novel.
It had been a while. My higher education had taken me away. And I sorely missed my beloved father. I went home that day with thoughts of my father obscuring all other thoughts. I arrived late in the evening. He wasn’t home yet. I made myself as adorable as he liked. It was not hard. My allure had never needed much artificial furnishings; a touch here and a touch there, and I would be set to win any beauty contest. That evening I was at my best.
All my preparations and quivering anticipation was to have ended in bliss, the kind only my father could give me.
Instead, I got the shock of my life. That terrible day, I knew exactly how the deer must feel when the hunter’s bullet crashes through its heart. I learnt how it must feel to be shot out of the sky.
I had hoped he didn’t mean it, that this was just another punishment, but the way he said it convinced me it was final. I knew my father; I knew the look on his face. It was the same look he had when he shot Dragon our Alsatian. This was not like before when he would refuse to touch me because I misbehaved. My father had never hit me or scolded me; his punishments were usually more severe and silent. He would simply refuse to touch me for days on end. Such days were hell for me. I could barely survive without him. When he was pleased with me, he really would take his time and give me much pleasure that I never knew was possible.
I was a very well behaved child; I had all the proper manners for a proper lady. Thanks to my father.
But this was no punishment. This was a cessation. This was my death. I tried to make him see reason, to convince him that we were to be forever. I told him of our joys, our laughs and how love couldn’t be any better. I begged him not to kill his beloved and only child.
It is true what they say. Men are beasts; unfeeling beasts.
How could he end something so wonderful, something so perfect? He said he still loved me, but I didn’t believe him, I couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t even look me in the eye when he said it. There must have been a reason, but I didn’t care for whatever it was. I knew it wasn’t about right or wrong, there is no love that can be wrong, especially the kind we had. It was beautiful; we were one, my father and I. Our love transcended that of a father and his daughter. It was the stuff of heaven. No, His reason wasn’t religious, not at all, my father wasn’t that sentimental. I was his sole religion, he worshiped me.
There was no one else either, I knew that much. My mother died while birthing me. Ever since, I had been my father’s heartbeat. And he was my breath. I never missed my mother. I never knew her, never would meet her. I would, perhaps, have liked to know her, but somehow I thank God she wasn’t with us. It would have been awkward. I don’t think I could have shared my father with any one.
My father gave no reason for killing me. He couldn’t explain why we could no longer have what we had. There was nothing I didn’t think, there was no thought I didn’t wish to explain his decision by. Something, perhaps, must have happened to his hormones. I couldn’t believe this was my perfect father. I couldn’t believe my day could ever become so dark.
He only said he was doing it for me, that it was for the best, my best. How could I have ever believed the man loved me? He even looked sad that day, so sorrowful and tired. In better times and in our previous world, I would have taken him in my arms as I was wont, and work my magic on him. Over the years I had learnt his special recipe. I was the only one who knew his mix. I had never asked him, but I sensed that even my mother didn’t take him to the heights I took him.
But his words belied the sorrow on his features. He had said the break up words so casually, as if he had thought it through and found it a simple matter. There should be a special kind of voice and words for pronouncements of that nature, something equal and suitably terrible. The normalcy and casualness of his words were a negation. It was like mockery. I didn’t know I could ever stop being what I was to him; I had never thought our relationship would end. But end it did, and in so shocking a manner. Good things shouldn’t end that abruptly. Relationships don’t die at once. Death is not a casual occurrence.
The most painful part of it was that I didn’t die. I felt like dying. I wanted to die. But I didn’t know how to go about it. I should have killed him too; I should have hurt him too. He looked like he was hurting, but I should have made sure. It is too painful to feel the pain of death and yet be alive. There is no pain worse than the pain of death.
And then, the man wanted us to be Father and Daughter, just father and daughter. I couldn’t understand why he would want to reduce our love to somethin
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