My Boyfriend Hides A Secret Room He Visits Every Morning

My friend Berlinda’s mother was like a mother to me as well when she was alive. When she passed away, it felt as if time stood still for me. I experienced a profound sense of loss, as if a part of me was gone. She meant more to me than just being a friend’s mother; she was a mother figure in my life, and I would deeply miss her presence. I shared my grief with Berlinda and supported her through the funeral and burial. 

During the Thanksgiving church service on Sunday, I found myself sitting next to a guy I was meeting for the first time. Since I didn’t belong to that church, most of the faces were unfamiliar to me. He called me by name and said, “Anas, you can share my hymn book with me.” The congregation was singing hymns, and I didn’t have a book, so I was just humming along. Perhaps he noticed my struggle with the lyrics. He was kind, but I couldn’t help but wonder how he knew my name as we sang together from the same book.

I leaned in and asked, “How did you know my name? Are we friends on Facebook?” He chuckled and replied, “Your friend mentioned your name when she came to you, and I heard it.” I responded, “Oh really? I didn’t catch that.” He continued, “She did, but she didn’t say your surname, and I’d appreciate it if you could add that.” We exchanged conversation intermittently during the service. Afterward, he asked, “Can I have your number? I know your name, and I’d like to get to know you better.” I took his phone and entered my number. He called me right away, saying, “That’s my number. Please save it. You didn’t ask for my name. I’m Kenneth.”

That evening, when he called, I hadn’t saved his number, so I asked, “Who is this?” He replied, “This is Kenneth.” I probed, “Kenneth from where?” He said, “So you didn’t save my number? I’m the guy you met at church this morning, the one who shared his hymn book with you.” I remembered him immediately and apologized for not saving his number, explaining that things got hectic after the service. I promised to save it this time.

Kenneth expressed a desire to meet again, saying he wanted us to be friends. He enjoyed my company and wanted to see more of me. I told him, “We just buried our mother. The dust hasn’t settled yet. Please give me some time to find my footing. I’ll get back to you, and we can be friends.” He texted and called frequently, asking when I would be ready to meet him. “Just for a drink. I just want to know you,” he insisted. I asked, “Just that?” He affirmed, “Just that.”

One evening after work, we met for drinks as he had suggested. He asked me questions, and I answered. He kept saying, “I like a woman like you.” That phrase seemed to punctuate every sentence. On our second outing, I asked him directly, “What do you want from me?” He replied, “I thought you knew. I want you to be my friend, but more than anything, I want you to be more than a friend.” I inquired, “You want a girlfriend in me?” He said, “Something like that.” I explained, “We just buried a mother. My heart isn’t in the right place; it’s still mourning and hurting. Give it some time, and let’s see what happens.”

Three months later, we were deeply in love. He was charming and persistent, never taking no for an answer. I appreciated his determination and the care he showed. When he first invited me to his house, I imagined a small, modest place typical of guys his age and profession. However, when we arrived, I was surprised to find it much larger than I expected. The layout suggested it was beyond what he could afford on his own. I asked, “Do you live here alone?” He replied, “Technically, I don’t. When my parents visit, this is where they stay.” He showed me around, pointing out his parents’ and sister’s rooms. I remarked, “It seems like you have wealthy parents. They provided you with the car you drive and this house. You’re quite lucky.”

He explained that his parents and sister had chosen to live abroad, leaving him in Ghana. “I’ve been there with them, but I didn’t like it. It’s lonely and quiet. People hardly notice you. I can’t thrive there, so I decided to live my life here while they live theirs there.” Then he added, “Hurry up and let’s get married. This place needs a mother.” I asked, “So you’re ready to marry?” He replied, “Say yes to marriage today, and we’ll marry tomorrow.” I didn’t take him seriously.

I spent my first night with him, but when I woke up at dawn, he wasn’t beside me. I assumed he was in the washroom or somewhere nearby. After waiting for a while, I called his name but got no response. I checked the washroom and called again, but still no answer. “Where could he be? Maybe he went to the hall?” The house was a storey building, and I started making my way downstairs. When I reached the hall, he wasn’t there either. Just then, he emerged from one of the rooms downstairs and asked, “What are you doing here? You should be sleeping.”

I replied, “What are you doing downstairs? You should be next to me.” He explained, “My parents called. You know the time difference, so they usually call at this hour. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep, which is why I went downstairs.” I asked, “Have you finished talking to them?” He said, “Yeah, you came right when I was hanging up.” He walked me back upstairs, and we continued to sleep. The next day, I left his house and returned to mine.

One evening, he called and said, “I thought we planned for you to be here tonight?” I responded, “Yes, I’m getting ready to come. I just have my period, so I’m a bit clumsy right now, but don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.” He quickly replied, “Don’t come.” I asked, “Why not?” He insisted, “No, just stay home and take care of yourself.” I explained, “I’m not sick; I’m fine. Just because I’m clumsy doesn’t mean I’m unwell.” He reiterated, “Just don’t come until you’re done. I won’t feel good knowing you’re on your period.” We debated for several minutes, but he was adamant, so I stayed home. He didn’t see me until I was finished. We weren’t being intimate, so I wondered why he wouldn’t want to see me.

I asked him, “What if I hadn’t told you?” He replied, “Now I know your cycle. I’ll be calculating with you. Please don’t come here when you’re on your period. It gives me a feeling I don’t like.” I said, “And you want to marry?” He responded, “There are many rooms here. You can use one of them whenever you’re on your period. I just don’t want that.” That conversation made me uncomfortable, but I thought to myself, “We’ll work through it. He’ll get used to it.”

Another night, I was with him again. Once more, I woke up to find he wasn’t there. “His parents must have called again,” I assumed. I didn’t check anywhere; I just walked downstairs and started knocking on that particular door. I knocked for over three minutes before he finally came out, visibly angry. He said, “Why would you knock and disturb our conversation? Can’t you sleep? When you wake up and I’m not there, just go back to sleep. I’ll join you when I’m done.” I went back upstairs, and I noticed his phone was in the bedroom. “So what was he talking on?” I began to have doubts and fears.

“What does he actually do in that room when he wakes up at dawn?”

That question lingered in my mind for days. I didn’t want to ask him; I wasn’t ready for the answers. I confronted him, saying, “We’ve been dating for months now. You said you want to marry me, so why are you hiding me from your parents? Don’t you think I deserve to meet them?” He replied, “I don’t want to do that over the phone. They’ll be home in December. I’ll do a proper introduction when they come.” I said, “I understand your immediate family lives abroad, but what about your extended family? Cousins, aunts, uncles, in-laws? Don’t you have any of them around?” He said, “I have many. They’re all in the village. I only visit them when my parents come.” I asked, “What about friends? Since I’ve known you, you’ve only introduced me to your colleagues at work. Don’t you have friends outside of work?” He questioned, “Why all these questions? Are you feeling insecure?” I replied, “I’m feeling inadequate. The relationship feels incomplete. Something is missing, and that’s what I’m searching for.”

He assured me, “Everything will be alright. Wait until December. My parents will come, and I’ll introduce you to them. We can meet whoever you want. As for friends, I told you, I don’t do friends. I have you, and that’s all I need. If you want me to make friends, we can go out and make friends together, or you can introduce me to yours, and we’ll take it from there.”

Honestly, I’m scared, confused, and conflicted. Since that day he got angry and I found his phone in the bedroom, I’ve been having troubling thoughts. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? I’ve been connecting the dots, and the conclusion frightens me. He has two cars, lives in a house larger than what his age and salary would suggest, and he has a room he retreats to at dawn to talk to his ‘parents.’ Are you starting to see the picture? Maybe it’s just my imagination, but if you see it too, does that mean your mind is also playing tricks on you? One mind can be mistaken, but many minds thinking alike are less likely to be wrong. If our thoughts align, then there’s reason to be concerned.

Should I run away? Or should I wait until December to see if he’ll let me meet his parents?

It’s urgent. Please give me your best advice before I lose my mind.

–Anas

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