For Better or Worse Until I Found His Secret Life

For the past fifteen years, I have been involved in philanthropic work, and it was through this line of work that I met my husband. He is a generous donor to NGOs, orphanages, and various research projects.

He is a wealthy man, owning one of the largest local enterprises in Ghana. His father founded the business and built it into a successful venture. As the only son, he naturally inherited his parents' wealth. His father appointed him as the deputy director of the company right after he graduated from university. After eight years of learning from his father, he took over as CEO when his father retired.

Our paths crossed through work in early May 2009. I had volunteered for an organization dedicated to helping children with costly medical conditions. Our mission involved connecting the parents of these children with organizations and individuals who could provide the necessary assistance. I have always had a passion for helping children.

Then he entered my life. I was responsible for negotiating his involvement as the patron of our organization. He was captivated by our vision, and after a month of discussions, he agreed to become our patron. We collaborated on various projects, and he was always present, ensuring that his contributions were used as intended. I frequently communicated with him, either over the phone or while visiting our beneficiaries.

As we worked together, our emotional connection deepened. I initially rejected his romantic advances, believing it was inappropriate given our professional relationship, but he was persistent. Eventually, he convinced me that his feelings were genuine, and I accepted his proposal, later resigning from my job.

We dated for over a year, during which he demonstrated unwavering dedication and commitment. He could do no wrong in my eyes; he was humble and always sought to make me smile. So when he suggested marriage, I eagerly agreed. We had a wedding, and I moved in with him.

Despite his demanding business schedule, he made time for me. When he was home, he rarely took business calls unless they were urgent. He often spoke with Mathew, his childhood best friend, who was also the best man at our wedding. I knew Mathew well, as he frequently visited and was almost like a right-hand man to my husband. Everything seemed perfect in our marriage, and I had no complaints.

One evening, after returning from a three-day trip to my parents, the security guard approached me for a conversation. He asked, “How well do you know the relationship between Mathew and your husband?”

I was taken aback and unsure how to respond. I felt he had no right to ask such a question, but my curiosity was piqued. I replied, “They’ve been friends since childhood and do a lot of business together. Mathew was the best man at our wedding, remember?”

He stared at me blankly, seemingly satisfied with my answer. I expected him to say more, but he simply looked at me sternly. This security guard had been with my husband’s family for nearly a decade and was quite perceptive.

I asked, “Is there something you want me to know?” He lowered his gaze and said quietly, “What’s between your husband and Mathew isn’t just business or friendship. There’s more you don’t know because you’re not paying close enough attention.”

My heart raced. My mind began to race with possibilities. “Wait, are you saying my husband and Mathew are…?” Before I could finish, he interrupted, “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m the security here, which means I observe everything closely. I’m not asking you to believe me; I’m asking you to watch carefully. You’ll discover what I know.”

After he left, I felt like I might crumble. I began to reflect on moments I had previously dismissed. Everything started to make sense. I was anxious, devastated, and felt betrayed. Remember when I said, “Everything was working for our good in our marriage and I had nothing to complain about?” That was a lie!

Our intimate life had been lacking. I often had to beg for intimacy, and his excuses were always the same: “I’ve been busy and I’m tired. Let’s wait until I’m well-rested.” I worried that if I kept asking, he would label me as overly needy, so I stopped. Occasionally, he would come to me, but it felt rushed and forced. I grew accustomed to it and even considered it a blessing when it happened.

That night, when he returned home, I viewed him through a different lens. I began to scrutinize his interactions with Mathew and noticed how he would step away to take calls in front of me. I paid attention to how his scent changed after trips and his demeanor before and after talking on the phone with Mathew. It became a full-time endeavor to uncover the truth about my husband.

And I did uncover it…

But it wasn’t easy. My husband is meticulous and careful, adept at covering his tracks. One night, I searched through his bag and found a tube of lubricant that appeared unused. I kept checking it, hoping to find evidence, but it remained untouched. I monitored it for an entire month, and it stayed the same. One night, he approached me for intimacy, holding the tube and saying, “I heard this makes things better. Let’s try it tonight.” I inspected the tube closely; it was still brand new.

“Am I going crazy?” I often wondered, but I refused to stop searching for clues.

One morning, a friend called to inform me that she had seen my husband at an event in Takoradi. He had told me he was traveling to Kumasi for a three-day business conference and wasn’t going with Mathew, so I felt at ease. Learning he was in Takoradi was shocking. I called a friend of Mathew’s to check on his whereabouts, and he confirmed that Mathew had traveled. In that moment, I knew something was amiss.

By 5:30 pm, I was in Takoradi. My friend had informed me that my husband would be staying at the family residence there. Around 11 pm, I arrived at the residence, and the security guard on duty was visibly startled to see me. I instructed him to knock and tell my husband someone was at the gate.

He was furious when the guard relayed the message. “You woke me up this late to tell me someone wants to see me? Are you alright?”

He emerged from the bedroom, ready to berate the guard, but I pushed past him and headed straight for the bedroom. He shouted my name, but I didn’t look back. I entered the room to find him sprawled across the bed, naked, trying to hide his face with pillows.

“So it was true?” I kept asking myself. That day, my entire world shattered.

He cried. I cried. He pleaded for another chance and promised to seek help. I walked away and never looked back. “For better or worse,” but this worse was too much to bear.

Harriet

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