Hidden Son Of The Tutor Secret Love That Stayed Silent

He was the first person I talked to on my first day at school. It was early morning, and none of the teachers had arrived yet. He was the only one in the staff lounge. I greeted him with a “Good morning,” and he replied, “Who are you?” Thinking he hadn’t heard me, I repeated my greeting. He responded and then continued with his questions…

“Who are you?”

“My name is Belinda. I’m the new English teacher.”

“Belinda? An English teacher?”

“Yeah, it’s my first day here.”

We ended up having a lengthy conversation before other staff members joined us. He didn’t share his name, but I later learned from other teachers that he was called Ebo.

He quickly became my confidant, and we grew to be inseparable friends. Our closeness led some teachers to speculate that we were romantically involved. We weren’t, but deep down, I wished we were. I found myself growing fonder of him each day. He was intelligent, tall (just my type), and incredibly thoughtful. The only obstacle between us was our age difference—he was twenty-seven, and I was thirty-two. I couldn’t envision a meaningful relationship with him, nor did I believe he would want to be with someone older.

One weekend, he visited as usual, and our conversation took a different turn. We discussed love, marriage, and children, and I realized we shared many views on these topics. My feelings for him deepened, and I wished he could see my emotions. Perhaps he did and chose to ignore them.

After he left, I noticed a blue envelope on my chair—those envelopes typically used for greeting cards. I flipped it over and saw my name written on it. I smiled to myself, thinking, “This guy has a peculiar way of doing things. Why write it in a card instead of telling me directly?” I began to speculate about the contents: “Could you be my girlfriend?” or “I love you and want to spend my life with you.” When I opened it, I was shocked to find a wedding invitation.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I turned the card in every direction to confirm what I was seeing: “Ben Weds Nora.” I was at a loss for words. I sent him a message: “Congratulations on what you left on my table.”

I attended the wedding, took pictures with him, and smiled a lot, but inside, I was hurting. I felt a pang of jealousy towards his wife. How could she have what I had always wanted?

After the wedding, he requested a transfer to another school to live with his wife. We continued to communicate. I had so much bottled up inside that when he asked how I was one day, I finally let it all out: “Ben, I wanted you. Didn’t you see it? Didn’t you notice my reckless behavior whenever I was with you? I thought there was something between us and waited for you to make a move.”

He apologized, admitting he felt the same way but was already committed to someone else and didn’t know how to handle his feelings for me, especially with his wedding approaching. I shed a few tears but wished him well.

The next day, I answered a knock at my door and—surprise—Ebo was standing there. I was so taken aback that I didn’t know how to react. I hugged him and pulled him inside. Before I knew it, we were lying naked in bed together, panting as if we had just emerged from water. This became our routine; every weekend, he would come to my place, and we would spend time together.

Then I discovered I was pregnant!

I was overwhelmed. Yes, I was having an affair with a married man, but getting pregnant wasn’t part of the plan. I feared what my parents would say and dreaded the judgment from others. Unsure of what to do, I confided in a trusted friend, who advised, “If you tell him, he’ll convince you to abort. If you want to keep it, hide it from him and only tell him when it’s too late for an abortion.”

I consulted a doctor friend who invited me for a scan. Afterward, he asked, “Why do you want to abort?” I explained my situation, and he asked again, “Do you like kids?” I replied, “Of course! I’ve always wanted a big family.” He said, “If you love kids, then this is one you can love too. It won’t be different from any other child. If you’re worried about what the father will say, don’t tell him. You’re thirty-four, you have a job, and you can take care of a child.”

I didn’t like the idea of keeping the pregnancy a secret from Ebo. I knew he would eventually find out, so I called him: “Ebo, I don’t know what to do. If you ask me to abort, I will. This wasn’t part of our plan, and it puts us in a tough spot… What do you think we should do?” He replied, “Keep it. Why would you even consider an abortion?”

“What about your wife? What if she finds out?”

“How would she know? Are you going to tell her?”

“No, not at all, but what if she hears it from someone else?”

“She won’t know. This is our secret. If she finds out someday, that’s fine, but I won’t be the one to tell her.”

I gave birth to a boy. That morning, he texted me a list of names to choose from. I picked one, and he said, “So be it. That’s his name.”

My son is now five years old, and he bears a striking resemblance to his father. If you know Ebo, you’d immediately think, “This boy looks just like Ebo’s son.”

The teachers at my school have mentioned it countless times, but they don’t truly believe it, so they joke, “You’ve been with Ebo, haven’t you? Look at how much your child resembles him!”

But my friend at school isn’t naive. One day, she confronted me: “Belinda, Ebo is your son’s father, and I know it. I suspected it, but now I’m convinced. Why don’t you just admit it?” “Admit it to whom?” I asked. “Who needs to hear the truth? If you know, then others do too. Not everyone is foolish.”

After that conversation, I wrote to request a transfer. Ebo still has family nearby, and soon the news might spread. Even if no one talks, my son’s resemblance to him is enough to reveal the truth. If I leave town, I take everything and all my secrets with me.

Ebo tries to be responsible. He pays for our son’s expenses and sends money occasionally, but it’s hard for me to carry this burden of secrecy. Others proudly share their children on social media, posting birthday photos and outings. I would love to do the same with my son, but I can’t. I’m proud of him; he’s smart and outgoing, but I can’t show him to the world. I’ve hidden him, and it breaks my heart.

Can one be proud of what she’s done while also feeling ashamed of the circumstances? I worry about what lies ahead. My child is innocent, but the story surrounding his birth is not. How long can this remain hidden, and what is the cost of concealing the truth from everyone?

Ebo and his wife now have a daughter, and I see how he interacts with her. From the day she was born until now, at three years old, he has posted a photo of her every single day.

But my son remains hidden. He can’t even carry his father’s surname because… because we’re meant to be in hiding.

That hurts!

—Belinda  
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