I Lost The Man I Loved Just When Love Returned

I had a boyfriend when Jude proposed to me. Jude and I had known each other since childhood, but we lost touch when he traveled. My job brought me to Kumasi, where Jude had always lived. We reconnected, became good friends, and started meeting occasionally. That’s when Jude asked me to be with him. I told him, “I’ve known you forever, and you’re a wonderful guy. I would love to date you in an instant, but my current situation doesn’t allow it. I have a boyfriend.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, but there was nothing I could do. I loved Andy. We had been together for a long time, and I wasn’t going to leave him for Jude, no matter how great Jude was. We remained friends and communicated daily, and our friendship deepened. I confided in him about my problems, and he was always there for me.

Meanwhile, my relationship with Andy began to suffer. He complained about the distance, wanting to see me more often than I could manage. It felt like my job was at odds with my relationship. He said, “It’s always about your work. One day, when your job isn’t there, who will you turn to?” I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I loved him and wanted to see him every day, but that would require daily travel. I asked him, “Why don’t you make the effort to come see me sometimes? I might not always have the time, but you do have time occasionally. Why not visit?”

He made excuses. He never traveled from Accra to Kumasi to see me, yet he always expected me to make that trip. The distance became our enemy, leading to frequent arguments. Some days, we wouldn’t talk at all. Those days turned into weeks without communication.

One day, I traveled to Accra without telling him and went to his house, hoping to surprise him after our recent fight. “A hug, a kiss, a day together will make everything alright,” I thought. I knocked and entered. He was shocked to see me, which I expected, but his behavior was off. He wasn’t speaking clearly and seemed uneasy.

I noticed another phone charging in his room and saw a purse and a handkerchief on the sofa. I understood immediately—there was another girl. “Where is she?” I asked. He didn’t respond. I pressed, “Where is she?” I suspected she was in the bedroom, but I hoped I was wrong. When he couldn’t answer, I tried to walk toward the bedroom, but he stopped me. I got my answer and walked out.

I thought he would follow me, call my name, and plead for me to stay. You know how it goes in the movies—the girl walks away, and the guy runs after her, crying and apologizing. I expected him to do the same because I had always loved him genuinely. I took several steps away, hoping he would chase after me, but when I looked back, he wasn’t following.

I went home, cried, and barely slept. When I woke up, I cried some more. He called me, saying, “Dear, it’s not what you think. She’s just a friend who stopped by to rest for a while. I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression, which is why I didn’t let you in.” I replied, “I’m happy for her. Not everyone gets tired and finds a resting place. She did, and I’m glad for her.”

From that day, the foundation of our relationship became shaky. We stopped fighting to keep it alive, and soon we went our separate ways. Jude was there for me, offering a shoulder to cry on and encouraging me. He took me out often to help me forget. Gradually, I moved on from Andy. I was single, and it seemed like the perfect time to fall for Jude, but then…

That was when Jude found love with another woman, Sarah.

What a crazy world we live in. Just when you make space for good things, they pass you by. Good men seem to appear only when you’re already in a relationship. The moment you’re single, every good man is taken. It’s a silly world.

I genuinely wished Jude well. He deserved happiness, regardless of my situation. We remained friends and met whenever we could.

In January this year, Jude called me: “Doreen, I don’t think this is working. I don’t think it’s ever going to work between me and Sarah. We’ve been together for barely a year and have broken up twice already. This is the third time, and it’s final!”

It was my turn to be his shoulder to cry on. I had to be there for him, and I was. He didn’t cry like I did, but his pain was evident. He spoke about how much he loved her and how he thought they would build a life together. He was a man in pain, and it showed.

So in February, I started making plans. Valentine’s Day was approaching, and I decided it would be the perfect time for Jude and me to start something together. For once, everything felt right. The stars seemed to align. I was available, and Jude was available. We just needed to seize the moment, and I was ready.

A week before Valentine’s Day, we scheduled a date. He sounded happy, and I could tell he had something to say. I knew the day would end with us as lovers. On Valentine’s Day, I wrapped his gift in red and couldn’t wait to see him. When I arrived at his house and knocked on the door, he opened it with a dry smile. I expected more, but I brushed it off. He said, “Come in; I want to introduce you to someone.”

“Introduce? Someone?” I entered, and he took the gift from my hand, thanking me. That’s when I saw her—Sarah, his ex. Jude said, “Doreen, this is Sarah. We’ve resolved our differences and are back together.”

The voices in my head went silent. I was there but felt completely absent. Suddenly, I felt empty, like a deflated balloon.

It was an awkward moment, but I couldn’t let my guard down. I forced a smile and said, “Wow, that’s great to hear. I’m glad you both are back together.” My smile was shallow, and my heart burned, but I played along.

I couldn’t wait to leave. I told them, “I just stopped by to deliver this gift. Time to leave you lovebirds alone.”

As I walked away, my head felt heavy, and my footsteps were unsteady. It was still a silly world after all. Nothing had changed. The world continued to play silly tricks on us, but for whose amusement? As I left his house that Friday, I knew one thing for sure: I wouldn’t return to his life again. I had sought love, and that love was no longer there.

Doreen,