It's 8:30 PM on a Wednesday. Tunde just walked into the house after spending two freaking hours in traffic on Third Mainland Bridge. He is exhausted, his shirt is soaked in sweat, and he just wants to drop his bag and drink some cold water.
Kemi is in the living room, fanning herself because there is no light. She looks at Tunde, then looks at his empty hands. He forgot to buy the petrol for the generator, which he promised he would pick up on his way home.
If Kemi was just angry or frustrated, she would complain. She might say, "Tunde, ah-ah! I reminded you about this fuel this morning. Now we have to sleep in this heat, and the food in the freezer will spoil. I am really upset." That is a normal complaint. It focuses on the mistake and how it affects her.
But contempt is different. Contempt doesn't attack the mistake... it attacks the person.
Instead of complaining, Kemi hisses loudly, rolls her eyes, and looks at him with pure disgust.
"You cannot even remember to buy ordinary fuel. Is it until I write it on your forehead? I don't even know why I expect anything from you. It's like living with another child. You are completely useless when it comes to taking simple responsibility."
Tunde freezes. He knows he messed up. He doesn't feel like a partner who made a mistake... he feels like a foolish schoolboy being scolded by his headmistress. His pride is crushed. Instead of going out to find fuel, he gets defensive, hisses back, and walks into the bedroom, slamming the door.
Contempt doesn't ruin a marriage in one day.
It is a slow leak. Day by day, insult by insult, it drains away all the love, respect, and friendship until there is nothing left.