I’m a nurse. He’s a teacher. When we met, we were both unemployed because we hadn’t been posted yet. I was helping my mom in her shop. That was where I met him, and he took my number. It was hard for me to accept his proposal because he wasn’t working, but he got me through his dedication and constant care.
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Soon he was posted to a place not too far from home. He had nothing, not even a bed to sleep on. I had saved some money through the shop I was managing. People gave me tips. Sometimes I overpriced items and kept the extra. My mom also paid me a stipend every month. I saved all the money, but when he was in need, I decided to help.
I bought a mattress for him. He placed the mattress on the floor and slept on it for several months until I got the money to get a bed frame for him. The carpet in the room—I bought it. The fridge he was using was mine. I bought it during service. I was supporting a man to stand on his feet and walk with his shoulders high.
A few months later, I was posted too. I got lucky. I was posted to a hospital not far from home, so I didn’t need to move. Because his salary took months to come, I was the same person giving him money, cooking, and sending food to him every month. He told me I was the reason he could face life as a man. I told him I was his support, so I would do my best.
He wasn’t coming back home like he used to. When it was time to come and visit me, he would give excuses about visiting his hometown for a funeral or wedding and all that. I had to do the visiting often. Sometimes, I would get there on Friday night, and he would travel to his hometown the next day and return on Sunday before I would leave. Love usually doesn’t ask why. I only did my job as a partner who was in love, so I saw no wrong.
One night we were sleeping when his phone kept ringing. The name on it was Ansah. I put the phone on silent because he was sleeping. But the phone kept ringing, so I picked up to tell the person he was sleeping. It was a female’s voice I heard. She asked, “Why are you not picking my calls? I’ve been calling you all night.”
I only breathed and cut the call. “Ansah, but a woman? What’s happening?”
The next morning, I didn’t ask any questions. He picked up his phone, and once he saw the missed calls, he panicked. He went outside for several minutes, probably to call back the number. The lady might have told him someone picked her call, so he was asking a lot of questions just for me to say I was the one who answered the phone. I played dumb until the question changed.
I started looking for a way to get access to his messages. It took a while, but slowly I got the password. While he was peacefully sleeping, I went through the phone. Ansah was pregnant, and they had been fighting about it from the beginning. She was the reason he had been visiting his hometown very often. I read to the point where they had made peace with the pregnancy, and my boyfriend was the one taking care of the girl.
He had told her he wasn’t going to marry her because he didn’t have the money. The girl insisted she could wait for whenever. Surprisingly, I wasn’t pained or scared or confused. It was like the night I picked up the call prepared me for this. I read everything and put the phone back where I picked it.
Again, I never whispered a word about it. A week later, he told me he would visit his hometown, so I should rather visit the following week. I went there on Friday after work, and indeed he wasn’t around. I called for help to dismantle the TV on the wall and also dismantle the bed.
The next morning, I gave the TV away to a total stranger I saw on the street. I gave the bed and the mattress away to a woman who sold food by the roadside. She had too many kids, and I felt the mattress would help.
I took away the fridge, his laptop, and the cooking utensils and folded the carpet into a taxi and left the town. I left him echoes in the room. Sunday night, my phone rang. He was the one calling. He had been told I was the one who came there. He screamed, “Why did you take my things? Where have you taken them to?”
I said, “Name one thing that is currently not in your room that you bought with your own money. They were mine, and I’ve taken them. Ansah is also a woman, isn’t she? Let her give you those things.”
He went mute. When he tried to talk, he stuttered. “Who-who-who is Ansah? Who told you there’s Ansah?” I only laughed and said, “Ask your conscience that question, and when you get the answer, live with it for the rest of your life.”
When I cut the call, he texted, “You took my laptop too? Did you buy that one too?” I texted back, “I didn’t buy it directly, but you took money from me, and some went into the purchase of the laptop. The next time you call again, I will block you.”
He was trying so hard to lie, but he couldn’t find the words. He tried to say sorry, but the words couldn’t come out right. So he begged me to return his things. I told him I’d given all of them away, so he should start anew.
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What Nobody Tells You About Divorce
We all get to start from somewhere. I started with him and decided to be his help, to build and to sustain. So if there’s another lady in the picture, then she should also do the same and not pluck from where she didn’t sow. Wherever he is now, I hope he’s happy about the choice he made.
—Bruwaa
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