I suffered a brutal skin condition in 2022, and it drained me financially, emotionally, and spiritually. I worked myself to the bone juggling odd jobs just to afford the lotions and creams that promised healing but delivered nothing. The spots kept multiplying like cruel reminders of a battle I was losing, so I covered up. I hid in long sleeves and silence, not from shame but from exhaustion, for I couldn’t bear the questions. I didn’t want to be judged, and I didn’t want to explain.

I never imagined it would become an issue with Phelix, for he was my love and my safe place.

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Before him, there was Daniel, a married man. I was already tangled in that mess when I met Adonis, and he was my first love at first sight. From the moment our eyes met to the late-night walks and whispered conversations, he felt like a divine interruption. My heart danced in his presence in a way it never had before, so I let Daniel go. I didn’t want to be the other woman, and thankfully, we hadn’t gone too far, so I could leave without second thoughts.

Adonis was different, and he felt wrong and right all at once. I thought he was God’s answer, a man my age whose eyes didn’t just look at me but saw me. He was a medical student, ambitious and bright. We moved fast, maybe too fast, but I wasn’t going to sabotage something that felt so rare.

I’d been in and out of love before him, each relationship fulfilling a different need. There was Osano, who met my physical desires. There was Daniel, who provided financial support. And there was Joavin, the fun one who made me laugh until my ribs ached. But with Phelix, it was different. With Phelix, I saw forever. I imagined us married, cooking together in a tiny kitchen, him sneaking bites of food and cracking jokes while I laughed. It was pure bliss, until it wasn’t.

We were strong until that one night. We were in bed playing and cuddling and wrapped in warmth. Then suddenly he yanked the blanket hard, and my thighs were exposed. The dark, ugly spots stared back at him, and just like that, everything changed.

My biggest insecurity was laid bare. I thought he knew because we had been intimate with the lights on. I had worn shorts around him and never tried to hide it. But the way he looked at me and the way he held the blanket like a lifeline told me it was over.

He stared into my eyes and asked, “Are you HIV positive?”

The question shocked me. The spots were just scars from a battle I had fought. They were not infectious or contagious. They were my badge of survival. But how could I explain that when his face was already twisted with fear? So he left me, and I didn’t fight it.

But his wasn’t the worst reaction. That title belonged to Adonis, the one I truly believed God had sent for me. He saw them too, and the terror in his eyes was almost theatrical. He tried to force me into confessing to something I didn’t have. “You don’t have to be shy,” he said. “You can talk to me.” I didn’t know if he was trying to bond with me or trap me,. The next morning, the way he kissed me before he left my end was like he was sipping hot porridge, careful not to let it touch his tongue

Then he left with no goodbye and no closure. He just vanished.

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I was left alone, scared, and humiliated, because I know he told his friends, and I know they talk. I feel their eyes on me even when I’m alone. I have always struggled with self-esteem, but now I don’t even know what that means anymore.

Just one message to Adonis: I hope you don’t remember me as the dark-spotted girl. I hope you remember the way I loved you and the way I trusted you.

I long for the day I can finally see a dermatologist. Not for anyone else’s comfort, not to prove a point, but just for me and for my healing and for my peace.

Until then, I’ll keep praying this away, for miracles do happen, don’t they?

—Sarah

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