My husband confessed that he had lost his job. I looked him in the face and told him, “You’ve lost your marriage too. I’m leaving.”

He went down on his knees, begging me to forgive everything and stay. “This is the worst day of my life. Don’t make it any worse, I beg you.” I walked to the bedroom, fell on the bed, and tears started welling up in my eyes. Our marriage had gone through enough and survived. Unemployment shouldn’t be the problem to bring our marriage to an end, but I was tired.

For eight years, we had supported each other on this journey. Right from the beginning of our marriage, we understood that the only thing that would make us survive was support for each other. Interdependence.

So we didn’t have who had to pay for what, but we had who had to do what. Though we split the financial burden, when it came to domestic chores, I did everything. He was my husband, and I gave him that respect. I wouldn’t watch him sweep or clean or cook just because we split finances. All he had to do was be my peace and the reason I smiled.

He was earning better than me, but that didn’t stop us from splitting things almost down the middle.

Three years into our marriage, I suggested we should buy a piece of land and start building. He told me it was too soon to do that.

About a year later, in our fourth year of marriage, I discovered he was already building on family land that had been given to him. He said it was for his parents.

I asked, “Why didn’t you tell me? Would you be happy if I did that to you?”

I was disappointed, but when he said sorry, I let it go. Because of that building, anytime there was something to pay, he would tell me he didn’t have money, and I would pay. When it came to school fees, he would tell me everything he had had gone into the building. Of course, I argued, but in the end, I had to pay.

Around that same period, my husband started visiting his aunt every weekend. He had lived with this aunt for most of his life, even more than he had lived with his own parents. She had money but didn’t have a child, and my husband lived with her until after his national service.

So when he started going to see her often, I didn’t think much of it. It was either she was sick or he had to do something for her. Sometimes, he would leave on Friday and come back on Sunday evening. He would call me, and I would even talk to his aunt.

Then one day, his junior sister told me, “Do you know your husband has a new baby? If he asks who told you, mention my name. It’s the reason he’s always going to Akosombo on weekends. If I were you, I would leave this marriage because Nicholas is not worth it.”

His sister had been a very good friend since we started dating. She was the same person who had earlier given me a hint about the building. I rushed home to meet him on the phone talking. I screamed, “Cut the call. What’s the name of your new child? You have a baby with another woman? What did I do to deserve this?”

I packed my things to leave the house. He knelt in my way, begging and telling me that if I left, his world would come to an end. He said the lady trapped him with the pregnancy and he had been in bondage while trying to keep it from me. I still left the house with the kids.

It took strong intervention from both families for me to return to the marriage. I was broken. We had two children and were struggling, so why add another from outside? I returned to the marriage without my soul. Everything felt empty.

His sister was shocked that I’d returned. She asked if her brother was my breath. I was embarrassed, so I gave her the classic reason, “It’s because of the kids ooo. I’m doing it for the kids.”

After I returned, we stayed together for another two years.

Then, in what had become our eighth year of marriage, my husband suddenly stopped going to work. I asked, and he told me he was on leave. For all the time I’d been with him, I’d never heard him say he was on leave. He would take a day or two off, but he wouldn’t stay home for weeks because he was on leave.

I said, “Eiii, today what happened that you’ve taken your leave?”

He was home for over two months. He said he’d taken his accumulated leave.

Then he suddenly started going to work again. Maybe it was because I was talking and asking a lot of questions about his long stay at home. He would wake up, leave the house as usual, and return in the evening just like before.

One day, I was going through his things and saw a brown envelope with his name on it. It was new and clean. I opened it, and it had about five different sheets. The last sheet was his termination letter.

That was when I discovered he had already lost his job.

He had embezzled money and had sold stock without proper records. His benefits were withheld, and he was asked to pay what he owed or risk a court case.

What Caused The Breakup Between You And Your Ex?

Everything about my husband was a secret I had to discover, even the loss of his job. I confronted him, and he finally confessed.

I told him, “Then you’ve lost your marriage too.”

He did what he always did when he was found out. He begged, cried, and knelt in my way, but I still left. This time, it was the last straw.

Even my parents are ashamed to tell me to return. His parents called. They said sorry to me but didn’t ask me to go back. They know I’ve tried.

I called his sister and told her. She said, “I won’t say some. You’ll go back and make me a third person.”

I responded, “Never!”

And that’s my stand.

—Kira

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