If you haven’t read the first part of this story, here’s the link. Kindly read it before starting this one.

The day I shared my story, I was in pain. Both emotionally and physically. Emotionally, I felt used and discarded like I didn’t matter. Physically, my abdomen was still burning. After sitting on hot water for days, and the pain I went through after the sex, I thought I didn’t deserve what he did to me. He could have been a man enough and talked about it that day. But he left, knowing he wasn’t going to come again. It affected me mentally so the only thing I could think about was to hurt him and what was the easiest way than visit a shrine?

My mom was the first to see the change in me. She asked why I was moody. I told her I wasn’t feeling well. Another time when she asked, I told her a friend’s father had died and it has affected me. She asked, “Were you dating your friend’s father that his death would affect you for this long?”

Me and my mom are like that. There is nothing we don’t talk about. I was always in her corner when she fought with my dad. I supported her so she told me everything. She even told me about her sex life with my dad. I’m the only girl. She loves me like a girl loves her best friend. I opened up to her about what happened. “It’s James,” I said. She screamed, “I knew it. I knew it was about the matters of the heart. Whisper it in my ears, what happened?”

I narrated everything to her and added, “I want to curse him. He’s a wicked man.” My mom had a smirk on. She was like, “Eiii, who taught you how to take big things? Herh you’re a spoilt child.” Then she burst out laughing teasingly as if what I said wasn’t painful.

She told me, “You don’t have to curse a man. They are already carrying a curse in between their thighs. It weighs them down. Sometimes they follow the desires of what’s between their legs to fall into a ditch. Leave him alone. You’ll heal eventually but next time when it’s big, don’t carry it. You’re not Jesus to be carrying big crosses.”

She burst into thunderous laughter again while watching how I would react. I didn’t mind her. She had told me something soothing so however she reacted didn’t affect me.

A friend I’d told half of the story also read the story on Silent Beads and called. “But Jane, why didn’t you tell me the whole story? Is that what he did? Then I won’t complain if you curse him. He’s wicked paaa.”

READ ALSO: He Took Me On A Date He Couldn’t Afford, Just To Embarrass Me

We found ourselves brooding on my heartbreak and this time elided nothing from the story. Before we said goodbye, she gave me a prophecy; “He’ll come back. Many women have said no to him because of his heavy load. You said yes to him but he turned around to say no to you. Give it some time dear. Men always come back, unless you’re a witch. He’ll come back.”

James started the comeback through my mom. He called, asked about her health and said he was checking up on her. He asked of me, if I was doing well, whether I’d gone to church. My mom pretended he didn’t know what had happened. She asked him, “Why don’t you call her phone? She doesn’t talk about you anymore. I hope everything is fine.” He lied that all was well between us but at the time, we hadn’t spoken for over two months.

My mom asked me to deal with him patiently if he calls so I was on my best behaviour when he called me days later, “Hey long time. I thought you were not going to call me again,” I said. He answered,  “We are not enemies, right?” I responded, “No we can’t be enemies. I wasn’t raised to count my enemies.”

We talked a lot about nothing. He said he was checking up on me. I thanked him and we said goodbye. His calls became regular that week. That same week he apologized, insulting himself and calling what he did to me childish. “I don’t know what came over me. You loved me but see how I treated you. Forgive me.”

I did. I forgave without any reservation. He started talking about coming to Kumasi. I encouraged him to come. He came one weekend. The same hotel but in a different room. I didn’t go there so he came to my place. My mom was there. She welcomed him like a lost prince coming back home. Again, he apologized and asked me to accept him back. “This is a new me. It’s marriage after a year. I’ll prove to you that I’m indeed a changed person.”

“If only there will be no sex involved, why not? Sex is what killed our beginning. I don’t want it to happen again.”

He paused for a while, before saying, “That’s OK. I’m all for it. It’s a new beginning.”

He came to Kumasi twice a month. And each time when he came, he brought something nice to me. The nicest was a phone on my birthday. Each time he came around, he wanted sex. He would force it, I’ll push him away until one afternoon in his hotel room, he nearly raped me.

While I was there struggling to break free, I told myself, “You never learn Jane. You never learn. If he gets you, it’s your fault.”

It was a relentless fight. I thought to myself while panting, “OK, let me relax. Let me rest small and prepare my mind to do it.” He left me. I started opening my buttons, he got up from the chair we were in to the bed to wait for me. I opened the door and escaped.

He followed me. Surprisingly, I wasn’t angry. He walked me to the roadside and promised it wouldn’t ever happen again. I nodded my head knowing indeed, I wasn’t going to put myself in that position for it to happen again. When he left, the calls reduced. I didn’t push it. When he called I responded. He even sent me mobile money at some point but the calls dwindled until we went a week without calling each other.

He watched my status sometimes and called me sweetheart. In December, he asked me to visit Accra for Derty December. I asked, “As what?” He answered, “As a friend.”

He accepted it wasn’t ever going to happen again, the sex. That’s why he gave up. He reduced himself to a friend when I hadn’t thought about it. I didn’t curse him. The curse in between his thighs brought him back, thinking he would have what I gave him the first time.

Call Your Ex And Ask Why It Didn’t Work Out Between You Two

We are not far from each other now. I don’t hate him. He doesn’t hate me too. Once in a while, we talk. He comments on my status. I comment on his. I’ll share the link to this story with him. He’ll read and laugh, I know. It will spark a conversation. After, we’ll go back to our caves and not talk for a long while. That’s who we are now!

—Jane

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