My Drunk Husband Sold Our Sofa for Alcohol, The Night I Handled It “Kinyumbani,” He Has Never Touched Beer Again
There are moments in life when humiliation and anger collide, leaving you paralyzed with disbelief. For me, that moment came one evening when I returned home after a long day at work, expecting to rest on our brown sofa with my children.
Instead, I found an empty living room. The sofa the one my husband and I had saved months for, the one where we celebrated birthdays and quiet evenings was gone. At first, I thought perhaps it had been moved.
But when I asked him about it, the smell of alcohol hit me before I even saw him. He had staggered into the house, a foolish grin plastered on his face, and casually said, “Relax, we’ll buy another one tomorrow.” That casual response made my blood boil.
I realized then that his drinking had escalated far beyond weekend indulgence. It was a problem, one that had invaded our home and threatened our family stability. For years, I had tried reasoning with him, pleading with him, and even covering for him when his drinking caused embarrassment.
But selling our furniture for beer crossed a line I could no longer ignore. I felt trapped between my love for him and the need to protect my children and our home. That night, I decided to handle the situation quietly but decisively kinyumbani.
