One thing about me is that I always knew I would never tolerate lies or cheating, and I swore that my standards mattered. I stood by that promise, and I was very picky when it came to men. It was not because I lacked admirers, because I had plenty, but I said no every single time. I wanted my story to be different, and I dreamed of a love that felt like a fairytale.

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I met Ato when I was 26, and when I say he was persistent, I am not exaggerating. He chased me for four years, and he showed up every single day. In my heart, I believed that someone who could be that consistent must truly care, and over time, I saw enough good in him to give him a chance. I started to like him, not just as a man, but as a person.

We were happy, or at least I thought we were, until one day I found out the truth. He had another woman, and she had been in his life long before me. He was planning to marry her, and I was just the other woman without even knowing it. I had done everything right, but I was blind to what was happening.

He cried and begged, and he went to my mother and his friends to ask for forgiveness. For a whole year, he tried to win me back, and because I loved him, I gave him another chance. I made sure the other woman was no longer in the picture, and when I was certain, I stayed.

We moved forward, but I never truly healed from the pain of knowing I was the other woman. He understood that, and he was patient with me while trying to earn back my trust. When I turned 28, he started talking about marriage, and I allowed myself to hope again. But soon after, he started giving excuses for everything, and he started cancelling dates and breaking promises.

When I turned 29, my anxiety shot up, and I began to feel the weight of the years and wonder what I was still doing unmarried. I had known this man since my early twenties, but I still did not know if he truly wanted to build a life with me. I cried on the night before my 30th birthday, and I felt the ache of giving him my best years, my body, and my loyalty, yet still being left in the waiting.

I have asked him many times if I am the problem, and I have wondered if something is wrong with me or if he does not love me enough. He always denies it, and he tells me I am calm, respectful, and beautiful. He says any man would be lucky to have me, and he repeats that he loves me, but he never answers the one question that matters. Why won’t you marry me?

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Even his family asks me for answers I do not have, and my mother wakes me at dawn with tears in her eyes, asking what I did wrong. I smile and pretend, and sometimes I cry, because the truth is that I am just as confused as they are.

I have tried to leave, and God knows I have, but I always find myself going back. I wake up and drive miles just to confront him, and all I get are more excuses. Yet I stay, and it is not because I do not have choices. I do. There are good men who want me, and some are ready to commit and give me a better life, but my heart will not let me walk away. Maybe it is because, apart from the marriage issue, our relationship has not been toxic, and maybe it is because I cannot match the man who loves me gently with the man who refuses to make me his wife. Or maybe it is because I do not know how to let go of the years we have shared.

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But the truth is that I am tired, and I am exhausted and broken in ways I never imagined. The bond we once had is slipping, and he pulls away whenever I bring up marriage, while I am left trying to find my way back into his heart.

And me? I have become the woman I swore I would never be. I am here, tolerating lies and betrayal, and I am surrounded by excuses that break my heart a little more every day.

It has been three years since this battle began, and I have spent those years asking questions that never get answered. I do not know how to save myself anymore, and I feel lost.

I am writing this tired, and I am praying for strength. Maybe one day I will find the courage to walk away, and maybe one day he will find the courage to love me the way I deserve.

Until then, I am stuck in the waiting.

—Rita

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