When my elder sister was getting married, I was the maid of honor. I had met her husband on several occasions, and he called me his junior wife. The relationship between us was cordial but very respectful. It was during the wedding that I met my sister’s husband’s brother. He was also the best man. His name was Chris.

FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX

We had a series of rehearsals, and he was just as respectful to me until we gradually became very close. We had become one family through our siblings’ marriage, and we owed each other that respect. We held hands during the wedding. We took pictures as though we were a mini couple. And when we did the entrance dance, it felt like we’d known each other for so long.

After the reception, while the music kept playing, the two of us hit the dance floor, and everyone else joined in. It was like a huge disco, with us leading the charge. He would hold me by the waist, and I would twirl and turn. He would pull me close to him, and I would fall onto his chest as though I had surrendered to his will. Someone said we should get married because we looked good together.

After the wedding, before he left town, he took my number and gave me his Apple Watch, which I had said was nice. We kept talking every day until, out of nowhere, our conversations became intimate. We could stay on the phone all night, laughing at our bad luck for falling in love at a time when love between us seemed impossible.

He kept asking me what we should do. I sounded like I had it all figured out and had my emotions under control when I said, “We can’t do something that leads us nowhere. Let’s cage it.”

He responded, “I wish it were that easy.”

I traveled to Accra one day, and he hosted me, something the two of us should have avoided. I slept in a different room, but during the night, he knocked and came in. He sat at the edge of the bed, and we talked like two prisoners planning their escape. Then came a kiss. Then came surrender. Then our clothes fell to the floor, and we gave in completely.

Lust usually fades, not slowly, but right after the first intimacy. That’s when you regret following your passion. You go to sleep carrying the guilt of your bad decisions, so the next day you decide you won’t return to that same place of guilt again. I didn’t feel guilty. The only feeling I had was the desire for more. I spent the whole weekend there, and every day, we made love. Before I left, I asked him, “Now, what are we going to do about this?”

He answered, “Let’s figure it out together.”

My sister and his brother have been married for two years as I write this, and we have also been dating for two years. Our relationship has been kept under a thick shroud of secrecy, so no one knows about it. My family doesn’t know I talk to him. I don’t think my sister even knows that I have his number. We’ve done well to keep it a secret, but at this point, I think we are going to set tongues wagging because of the situation we find ourselves in.

I’m pregnant.

This is not my first pregnancy. The first one happened when our relationship was only four months old. I was already pregnant but didn’t realize it until I fell sick while spending a weekend with him. It felt like malaria, so I got tested, but the result came back negative. The attendant at the drugstore asked me to take a pregnancy test if I’d been sexually active. That was when it dawned on me that my period was four days late.

We spent the whole day thinking about it. We knew we couldn’t keep the pregnancy, but the faint voice within us kept saying we should use it to test the waters.

He said, “Maybe it’s possible for us to get married. Who knows?”

Days later, we made a call and arranged for the drugs to be delivered to us. He stayed with me through the severe abdominal pain. He helped me with warm towels. He promised he would never let me go through such pain again. When I eventually left his place, I told myself I would never allow myself to get pregnant again. I even promised myself I would plan my escape.

The couple who got married still haven’t conceived, but a few days ago, I discovered I was pregnant again.

I screamed, “Oh no! This can’t be happening to me again.”

I cried. I regretted it and called myself foolish for allowing it to happen again. I didn’t even want to tell him because I didn’t want to complicate the situation, but I eventually did, and he said, “Let’s keep this one. If God was against two siblings marrying into the same family, He wouldn’t have made us fall in love.”

He said it with so much conviction that, all of a sudden, I felt confident in my own folly.

“Yeah, let’s keep it. We won’t be the first people to bring shame and confusion to our families.”

I’m carrying the baby as I write this. I feel very heavy. It’s not only a baby I’m carrying. I’m carrying shame, guilt, and confusion too.

Some days, I’m convinced that something good will come out of this. Other times, I think about the family I come from and tell myself, “Let it go before something worse happens.”

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

I know he’s going through the same confusion. He wakes up feeling fine one day, and the next day, his head feels like it’s bursting at the seams. I’m waiting for the day he calls me and says, “F*ck it! We’re being silly. Let’s let it go.”

But the question is, who made this rule? What point was it meant to prove? There could be more than one good man in a family, so why can’t my sister have one and I have another? And what’s the worst that could happen if we decide to go against this rule?

—Dorcas

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******