I am married, and he is also married, but we’ve been in a secret relationship for the past two years. My marriage is not a good one. I’m not saying this to swerve accountability—no. I enjoyed my marriage for only one year, and then troubles started coming from all around me. It got to a point where I wanted to run away or even end it and be free in the afterworld. But I had a son who could barely write his own name, so I decided to stay and take care of him.

So for over two years, I zoned out of the marriage. I did my duties as a diligent wife. He went out to see other women and still came back to meet me in the house. I had complained for so long it had become normal to me. He even told me one day, “How does that even affect you as a woman? Don’t I give you everything you want as a wife? When I go out, are you not the one I come back to? What’s your problem with what I do with my life outside?”

He’s over ten years older than me. I thought his age meant he knew better. I thought he would love my youth and the juice of my beauty, that I would be forever young in his eyes. It’s the reason I married him easily when I had good options all around me.

Because of the good relationship he has with my parents, even when I report him to them, they treat the issue with kid gloves. They talk to him pleadingly, as if they are scared to hurt his feelings. They come back to tell me to pray about it and that men change to be better.

While going through this phase, Abass came along—a married man with two kids who shares the beauty of his marriage on social media like a badge of honor. It didn’t start with love, but I must say I fell in love with the way he treated his wife and showed her to the world. I remember we even had conversations about it, and he told me, “What can I do? She’s all I have.”

But slowly, friendship became more intimate along the way when he listened to my marital advice and sympathized with me like no one had ever done. It was beautiful how he wanted to find my husband and pour sense into his head. He always supported my side of the story, something I’d never found in my parents. So we got closer and closer until one day we kissed. The kiss turned into a full-blown affair, an affair that has lasted longer than the happy moments in my marriage.

We’ve gone places secretly. We’ve traveled to Nigeria together and spent one week there. Every day his wife called him at least three times, while my husband’s calls never found their way to my phone. I wondered, “Am I married at all? Do I have anyone waiting for me? If I go missing today, will he even notice?”

These questions made me sad, so I coiled into myself until I felt Abass’s touch and felt whole again. I’d come to see him as my husband. Wherever we sit to eat or have a drink, I introduce him as my husband, and they believe me. Once I said to a waiter, “Isn’t my husband adorable? Just look at him.” He smiled and said yes. Abass smiled too, telling me I was making his head swell.

The truth of the matter is, however deeply he makes me feel loved or wanted, there’s no way we can be together. It’s a fool’s dream for me to hang on just because it makes my heart happy. The whole relationship is fool’s gold, and both of us know it. He finds me whenever he needs an option but is that how I want to be treated? As an option? No.

So I assessed my life and asked myself what I really wanted. I knew I wanted a man like Abass in my life, but not Abass. I told myself I would walk away and either heal my marriage or divorce to find what works. But no matter how hard I tried to let go, Abass’s call would come through, and every decision I’d made against him would crumble. He has an unhealthy hold on my emotions. No decision works against him.

I’ve blocked him before, but it lasted only a few hours because it felt like I was underwater and couldn’t breathe. I ended up calling him to ask if he was okay. That very evening, he called to say he missed me. I met him outside town. He kissed me, and I didn’t want to go back home.

As I said, I want to break away from his grip. I don’t like the fact that he has this much power over me. I don’t like the fact that I’m a married woman and he’s also a married man. I complain about my husband only to turn out to be like him. How is that fair to me or to my husband?

What Will Make You Leave Me After Forty Years Of Marriage?

So I want to walk away, stay married for a while, and see if something good can come out of that good-for-nothing marriage. But the question is: how do I break off from someone whose calls undo every resolve I’ve ever made against him?

—Joyce

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