I met Earl eight years ago at work. He was a senior colleague in a managerial position, and I was an intern doctor. One day, I went to the pharmacy to get medicine for a very sick patient. The nurses who had gone before me had been denied. The pharmacy was packed, but I walked in with the patient’s file, introduced myself, sat on a stool, and told them I knew the drug was available and I wasn’t leaving without it. I even added that I would speak to their manager if necessary.

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Earl looked at me and asked, “What’s your name?”

“MB,” I replied. He said, “I’m yet to see an intern doctor as interested in a patient’s well-being as you are. Bob, get MB the entire dose for this patient.”

Then he turned back to me and said, in front of everyone, “You have very sexy thighs.”

I was mortified and furious. Just as I was preparing to give him a tongue-lashing, he introduced himself: “My name is Earl, the state pharmacist.”

He went on to say we shared the same name as his sister, asked for my number, and said that since we were from the same tribe, he would come by my place for tea. I saved his number only so I could avoid him if he ever called.

He never called, and I also forgot all about him. However, a year later, a senior colleague reintroduced us when I was searching for permanent employment as a qualified doctor. He said he didn’t call me because he had been busy. All I did was laugh, because I didn’t believe him. Regardless, he helped me get a job. It took us nine months though.

During those nine months of job hunting, we became good friends. At the time, I had a boyfriend, and he was married. I went through a lot in my relationship, and he was there for me through every step. He was there when I found out I was pregnant, when my boyfriend denied the pregnancy, when I lost the pregnancy. He held my hand when I was depressed. Earl was heaven-sent. We prayed a lot together. To date, I still haven’t met a man as prayerful as Earl.

Earl was a vibe. He lit up every room he walked into. But behind all that, his marriage was struggling. We bonded over our separate hurts. Over time, he would propose love to me casually, but I didn’t take it seriously.

He was financially stable and generous—not just with me, but with everyone. He took me on road trips, gave me thoughtful gifts, and spread kindness everywhere we went.

When he and his wife separated, he said he believed I was meant for him. His parents even invited me home and gave us their blessing. That was when I finally said yes to his proposal. Deep down, I didn’t love him yet, but I respected what he represented and believed I would grow into the love.

He was attentive, supportive, and generous. We even bought a plot of land together at the coast for business. Life was good. I conceived our first child that same year, and he became even more attentive.

When his wife found out about me, she came back begging him to let me go. I wish I had walked away then. She came back to raise their child.  What followed when she took him back was chaos. She threatened to burn the house down. Threatened to unalive the child. Earl ran back and forth between us.

At some point, he got his wife pregnant. He also got me pregnant. Those children are three months apart. He chose his children with her over our kids and me. I was taking care of two babies, my household, and work alone. Earl was barely present. When my eldest was one year old, he demanded a DNA test. I agreed. When the test confirmed he was the father, he apologized and promised things would improve.

But then he expected all business proceeds to be divided equally between me and his wife. Any resistance resulted in verbal abuse, which later escalated to physical abuse. The first time he hit me, he apologized and blamed the devil. The second time, he said it was my fault for talking back at him.

The worst one happened when he came to my workplace and beat me for cheating on him, something that was not true. That day, I felt stripped of my dignity as a woman, a doctor, and a mother. I counsel patients on gender-based violence, yet I was a victim.

With time, he got worse. The children grew up watching it. We lived in constant fear of him. Know one knew this side of him because on the outside, we looked like the perfect couple.

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He isolated me from friends and family. I had no friends. No family. Only him. I prayed. I fasted. Nothing changed. I became suicidal.

When people at work noticed, they encouraged me to seek counseling. I did but it backfired. Some counselors leaked my issues. My escape came through education. I applied for a program, and Earl helped me get admission. Sometimes I wonder if he has a split personality. How can one person be o supportive and so abusive?

School was in another state. That distance gave me freedom. My youngest was almost two then. I was on family planning so I wouldn’t have any more kids. Unfortunately, I still got pregnant. I wanted to get rid of it but he found out and talked me out of it. He promised things would get better, but they only worsened.

At five months pregnant, he beat me so badly I had a black eye for a week. I couldn’t attend classes. That was when I told my parents everything. I am glad I did because their counsel helped me.

I stopped fighting for us and started fighting for myself. I started professional therapy. I became intentional about healing. I bought body lotion, and it felt good. I did my hair. Bought face products. Took myself out. These may seem small, but for me, they were huge victories. I even bought myself a new dress.

Sometimes I get angry when I think of Earl, but my therapist says it’s okay. We still talk. He visits when he can, but now I look at him with clarity. The things that once destroyed me no longer move me.

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I’m learning that two people can be great individually but disastrous together. I made poor choices, and the price was high. But I’m forgiving myself, loving myself, and becoming a better mother. I lost old friends, but I’m building new relationships. My parents and siblings are my support system.

Earl reads this page. Earl, I forgive you. I wish you happiness. Although I have loved and lost, it is well. After all, they say a broken hallelujah is still a hallelujah.

—MB

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