He Married Another While I Still Loved Him

Dear Fred,

As I write this letter at dawn, it brings back memories of our early days when we could chat on the phone from morning until the sun came up. We knew when to start our conversations, but we never knew when to end them. After the rooster crowed and we glanced at the clock, you would ask, “Is it dawn already?” and I would reply, “Yes, but there’s still so much more to discuss.”

At that time, we were both fresh graduates awaiting our National service postings, with no work to occupy us. Time was irrelevant to us; we simply woke up and went back to sleep. We had little to our names, yet we made love feel like everything we possessed. If an hour went by without hearing from me, you would call to ask, “Are you planning to break up with me?” I would laugh and respond, “Why would I do that?” You would then say, “Then why take a whole hour for yourself?”

You made love seem vibrant and everlasting, even in tough times. I remember the day we received our National service postings: I was assigned to the Ashanti Region, and you to the Volta Region. We were both heartbroken, hoping to be placed in the same area or at least somewhere nearby. That night, when we met, you reassured me, “What we have is stronger than any distance. With love, no place is too far.”

And you proved that to me. You visited every weekend, making “Thank God it’s Friday” a significant phrase in my life. I called it “Thank God it’s Fred’s day” because it was the day I got to see you. As time passed, I learned to make the long journey to visit you as well. Seven hours didn’t seem long when we knew we were traveling for love.

To this day, I can’t pinpoint when things began to change. I loved and trusted you so deeply that I failed to notice your transformation. Even when you didn’t call, I assumed it was due to circumstances beyond your control. When you didn’t visit, I believed you wanted to but had other important matters to attend to. I kept making excuses for you, unaware that the warning signs were already ringing. After we completed our service, you secured a job where you had served, leaving you perpetually busy. Meanwhile, I was at home searching for a job so we could plan a brighter future together. Yet, your presence dwindled day by day until I only heard from you when I complained: “Fred, why aren’t you calling me lately?” “Fred, why don’t you return my calls?” “Fred, you’ve changed so much.” “Fred, please call me tonight; I miss our late-night talks.”

Your response was always, “Don’t worry, I will.” But you never did. I blame myself for accepting less from you, which led you to give me less and less until there was nothing left.

I remember that night when you were in my bed, talking on the phone. You had finally visited me from the Volta Region after months of persuasion. I didn’t want to start an argument; I wanted us to enjoy the night and catch up. But something you said on the phone made me wonder who you were speaking to. You whispered, “Two thousand cedis for just a wedding dress?” I swear I heard you say that. When I asked you about it, you replied, “It’s not about me; it’s a friend we’re discussing.” I inquired, “Is your friend getting married?” You said, “No, it has nothing to do with a wedding.” I pressed, “But I heard you mention a wedding dress.” You insisted, “Then you didn’t hear correctly.”

I didn’t want to ruin the mood, but your words lingered in my mind all night. Your kisses felt hollow, as if you were thinking of someone else while kissing me. Your touch felt off. Everything felt wrong, but I endured. Days after you left, I kept replaying what I thought I heard, but ultimately, I chose to trust you again: “Maybe I didn’t hear right.”

On Saturday, August 10, 2019, I woke up with a heavy feeling in my chest. I called to let you know. I tried twice, but you didn’t answer. When I called again around 2:30 PM, you finally picked up. I could barely hear you over the noise in the background. You said, “Let me call you later; I’m at a program.”

That call never came.

On Monday, August 12, 2019, Suzzy called me: “Are you aware Fred got married over the weekend?”

“Fred? Which Fred?”

“Which Fred do we know? Your Fred.”

“My Fred? How can he be married?”

“Just a second.”

In an instant, images of your wedding flooded my phone.

I said, “Suzzy, he must have been the best man at a friend’s wedding.” She replied, “Look closely at the photos; he’s wearing a ring.” Honestly, I didn’t have the strength to look again. I was terrified of what I might see, so I told Suzzy, “Thank you. I know what to do next.”

All I could do was cry like a child. Fred? He got married? That was the day I began calling you. You remember how I tried a million times, and you didn’t answer any of those calls? Yes, that was the day. You were clever; you sensed I might have caught on, so you avoided my calls until a week later when you showed up with a pathetic excuse: “You know this is where I come from, so when I got here for my service, they found me a woman and forced me to marry her.”

May the gods of forced marriage deal with you, if they exist. You embarrassed them with that excuse.

A girl with a shattered heart and dreams has nothing but tears. I cried for a long time, but eventually, I healed. It took a while, but I did heal. I marked the date on my calendar, not to remember the pain you caused me, but to remind myself of the journey that led to the moment you married someone who wasn’t me.

I’m a better person now because I’ve learned. I’ve recognized the signs, and that knowledge has made me stronger. I now understand that I shouldn’t accept less, no matter how much I love someone. I’ve learned to trust what I hear, even if it’s whispered. I’ve learned to question any changes in my relationships. I’ve learned to express my discomfort, even if it’s labeled as nagging. I’ve learned not to accept “I was busy” as an excuse. True love knows no ‘busy.’ I’ve learned to notice when I’m no longer a priority. Yes, I’ve learned a lot, and that’s why the man in my life now doesn’t take me for granted; he knows I will notice and question even the slightest changes. He understands that I remain vigilant, which invites him to bring more awareness to our relationship.

I wanted to wish you well for my own healing, but I heard what you said to Kofi when he asked why you treated me the way you did. You said, “She should be thankful she made it to the semi-finals of the relationship. Others didn’t even qualify from the group stage.” Six years of my hard-earned existence were wasted on you. I deserve better than your words. You’re married now, and you might think that’s the end, but if you ever play any game in life, whether financial or career-related, may you also not qualify from the group stage. You have no regrets, and I have no pity for you.

—Sylvia

Kindly SHARE this story. Someone on your timeline needs it. Do you have any relationship experiences to share? Email it to editors@etechx.co.ke

Like our Facebook page to stay updated on new posts.