How One Wrong Choice Built Our Forever Love

I typically avoid discussing our beginnings. It’s the only blemish in our otherwise bright story, yet we wouldn’t be where we are today without it. If we ignore our past, the map of our present and future would be meaningless. So, while I express gratitude for our current situation, I’ve come to accept our beginnings for what they are—acknowledging that they could have been better, yet surrendering to them so we can create a brighter future.

Portia had a boyfriend whom she claimed to love deeply. Because of that, she turned me down. I tried everything, but she remained resolute. Eventually, I moved on. It was the kind of moving on where you glance back, hoping things might change so you could reclaim what you left behind. Two or three months passed, and nothing shifted. Four or five months later, it was still the same. I accepted my defeat and fell for another girl who was ready for me.

Not long after I started dating this new girl, Portia reappeared, igniting hopes and affection. We went on two dates, but it was the third that swept us away. We kissed on a deserted road, the kiss lingering as if we had both been starved for it. It was an empty street, yet anyone could have stumbled upon us, witnessing our lips locked together. She asked, “Take me home, or is she there?” I replied, “No, she’s not, but she has a habit of showing up unannounced.”

We ended up at her place, and all night we couldn’t stop kissing. I asked, “So what are we now?” She responded, “I don’t know. I still have my boyfriend, and you still have your girlfriend, so what could we be?” We pretended our situation didn’t have a name, avoiding the shame of what we had become. We were friends with benefits—everything was evident, yet we refused to label it.

This continued for several months. During that time, my relationship with my girlfriend deteriorated. We no longer communicated as we used to, and meeting became rare. Texting felt like a chore I couldn’t manage for more than five minutes. She sensed my change but didn’t realize another woman was involved. Meanwhile, Portia thrived with her boyfriend. Nothing shifted—except that I was lurking in the shadows, waiting for my chance with Portia whenever he wasn’t around.

One early morning, around 1 a.m., Portia called me. “Is she there with you?” she asked. I replied, “Not really. She was here but left early.” An hour later, there was a knock at my door. “Who is it?” I inquired. “It’s me, please let me in,” she said.

I opened the door, and she walked past me to lie on the bed. When I joined her, she said, “I caught him cheating. The sad part is, he didn’t cheat on me with another girl. I’m the girl he’s cheating with on someone else. They were together for two years before I came along. He’s been unfaithful to his girlfriend with me, just as you’re cheating on your girlfriend with me. It seems I’m the girl everyone chooses to cheat with.”

She didn’t seem hurt or upset by her revelation. She appeared indifferent, as if nothing had happened. A few minutes later, she was fast asleep, snoring gently beside me. I wished my girlfriend would walk in on us and catch me cheating, so she would leave me alone, but wishes are just that—wishes. They don’t come true when you want them to.

The next morning, she said, “I’m available. If you truly want us to be together for good and not just for fun, now is the time. I won’t remain the girl you cheat with, so decide.”

I pondered it deeply, but the question lingered: how could I let my girlfriend go without hurting her? I confronted her directly and told her the truth: “You can see things aren’t as they used to be because my mind isn’t here. Can we take a break so I can find myself and some answers?”

That marked the end of our relationship. We never returned from that break; instead, all my focus shifted to the newfound freedom I had with Portia, and that’s when I realized why I desired her so much.

Portia is a bundle of joy. There’s never a dull moment with her. You could take her to a funeral, and she’d turn it into a celebration with just a snap of her fingers. That’s exactly the kind of woman I wanted to spend my life with. If I’m going to share my life with someone, I want it to be with someone who understands happiness and can uplift me when life gets tough.

We were young—both twenty-three. We engaged in all sorts of wild antics in the name of fun. We went clubbing and drank until we lost our way home. We had sex in a public restroom one late night. We sat at the back of a trotro, kissing until we reached our stop. Love was spontaneous for us; I’d suggest a crazy idea, and she’d respond, “That sounds fun. Let’s do it.”

But youthful exuberance can be dangerous if not managed wisely.

One day at a pool party, she dove into the water and didn’t resurface. I hadn’t seen her dive in, but a guy noticed she had been underwater for too long and jumped in, only to emerge with Portia’s lifeless body. I stood there, shocked and frozen, as if my feet were glued to the ground.

I watched as they pressed her chest repeatedly, but she didn’t respond. A crowd gathered around her, voices rising with suggestions on how to revive her. Someone shouted, “Put your mouth to hers and blow air into her!” The guy did, several times, but she remained unresponsive. They continued, pressing her chest and blowing air into her, but nothing worked. By then, I was in tears, hands on my head, eyes wide open.

They stopped the chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, letting her be while fanning her with clothes. One minute, two minutes… then her chest heaved, and she began coughing, “Kuhu kuhuu, kuhu kuhuu!” Water poured from her mouth and nostrils. I rushed to her side, lifted her, and tapped her cheeks, shouting her name, “Portia! Portia, please talk to me.” She slowly opened her eyes and asked, “What happened?”

Her gaze was dazed, and her breath reeked of alcohol. I helped her up, placed her in a taxi, and left the pool for home. That day, we decided to give up our reckless ways and mature. I nearly lost her, and nothing could make us repeat that experience.

We dated for five years, and just as we were planning to marry, she became pregnant. I suggested, “Let’s expedite the preparations so we can marry before the pregnancy shows.” She replied, “Who are we running from? Let’s not deceive ourselves. We should marry when we’re fully ready. I can wear my wedding gown and still have a hand to carry my child. Let’s not rush it, please.”

If “Be positive” were a person, it would be Portia. She embodies positivity, never harboring a trace of negativity. No matter how dire a situation seems, she finds a silver lining and makes you feel like the most important person in the world. Because of her, I don’t doubt myself. When I stumble, she believes I can try again and pushes me until I succeed.

She gave birth, and when our son was two, we had our traditional marriage in her father’s small compound. By then, we had rented a two-bedroom self-contained apartment, and I had received a promotion at work, improving my salary. She had also completed her nursing top-up program, so we were comfortable.

You don’t often encounter people who match your kind of crazy. That’s why when you find them, you hold on tight. Together, we’ve been through fourteen years, and there has never been a dull moment. I can spend all day with her without getting bored. It feels as if we are joined at the hip, destined to move together forever. There’s no me without her, and no her without me. Always us. It’s as if to say, “I nearly lost you once at the pool, and now that I have you, I’ll never let you out of my sight.”

—Colins
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