When Loving Him Almost Destroyed Me

He was the complete opposite of me. With his tall and fair figure along with his broad shoulders, he was the knock-out of a storybook hero, whereas I, with my dark skin and medium height, always felt overshadowed by him. Maybe I was cute and, without a doubt, I was smart. I knew it, but the heart has its own will. I had a crush on him for quite a long time, and I was sure that we were meant to be together.

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In the third year of our studies, we really bonded. He was a student of a five-year-long program which means he would still be around the college when I graduated. We talked, and he told me that he had just broken up with a girl who was a source of chaos in his life. His girlfriend had been suspicious and when she noticed he was becoming a little distant, she decided to probe deeper into it. He was already gf-ing another girl he had introduced as his school daughter. So he went ahead and told her the whole truth, that he had gotten both of them pregnant at the same time. The main girlfriend was very hurt and she didn't just whine, she stormed his dorm and faced the other girl. He was there at the scene silently watching when he decided to slip away and call me, narrating the whole drama as if it were a movie.

And that was the one I fell for! I was not very fortunate either; I had just got through a rough patch with my own heartbreak that was double fold since I caught my best friend and boyfriend sleeping together while I played dead. Maybe that’s why our initial togetherness felt so effortless. It had no tags attached just joy, trust, and closeness. We drifted along those days till he went to Abuja for a program when it was my turn to do final year.

Just then I found out I was going to be a mother. We decided to part ways, as we were not ready for the responsibility of being parents. Unlike what he did to the other girls, he was very compassionate with me all through the process. I held on to that gentleness thinking that it was the sign that I was the one and that he loved me.

A week after he arrived in Abuja, I discovered texts addressed to another girl, though she was young and plain, being a church member. He expressed to her that he wanted to live his life with her. The suffering was so acute that I almost skipped my finals. When I brought it up with him, he accused a cousin who allegedly misused his phone. The deceit was obvious, yet my persistent love made me allow it to pass. Over the months, we became estranged, nevertheless. I was no longer concerned whether he called or replied to my messages. I was through. I graduated, went home, and got to know new people.

Afterwards, I returned to the university for my results, and we somehow got back together. I was sick then, and he took care of me with that old-fashioned care which made me feel on top of the world. I charged him with the accusations about the other girl but I was told that she was just a school daughter, so he disregarded my assertion, and I went along with it.

During his last year, we formally rekindled our relationship. He completed his studies, went to live with his sister, and started a new life while I was moving into my own little apartment. At that moment, the truth began to reveal itself. I became aware of his behavior and how he was overly friendly with every girl he came across. Every time I got pregnant, he would say that he was not ready, so I would always turn to God. I should have realized it sooner and left, but I endured until abortions became a part of our lives together. The cycle was a sad one, and it remained the same until I left for national youth service. We would break up and come back together, cry and forgive, then go through the same routine again.

By the time I was nearing the end of my service, we got back together, and it turned out I was expecting a child once more. This time, however, I had enough of the suffering and medical interventions, and I was only going to have this little one. He did not cease to pressure me, trying to convince me to terminate the pregnancy by saying all sorts of things, and even suggesting that it would be better to adopt if I lost my womb. It was then and there that something in me died. I would not do it.

The whole experience of pregnancy was like living in a bubble. I spent most nights crying and felt the weight of the whole world on me. He was busying himself with female colleagues at his sister’s house. Working at a hotel only made the situation worse. I became very introverted and distanced myself from everyone including my old self.

I became a single mother vaccinated my daughter in that hospital room while he was a no-show. He turned up every now and then playing the part of a caring father for a short while before leaving again. I had just given birth to my daughter and was suffering from postpartum depression when I found out he was seriously dating a colleague. So strong was their bond that coworkers thought they were husband and wife. While this was going on, I was at home, asking him to take care of our child together with me.

My daughter is now two years old and I am expecting again. I am not married and I am tired, only trying to be strong for the kids who are not to blame for coming into this world. A fellow employee of his told me recently that he is trying to get another girl at work. It’s the same cycle, the same story.

Unchanged. While I am pregnant with this second kid, my state is akin to a haunting. My emotions towards him have disappeared, and he doesn’t look at me with any effect. I am not responding any longer. Just to let the pain pass and not lose my senses is my way of living for the kid and that one who is coming.

From time to time, I ask myself if I shall be able to return to my old self or if this is the new me a woman who has endured a lot and that too in silence.

—Light

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