The day I found out I was posted to Takoradi to do my national service was one of the happiest days of my life. You would think I was travelling overseas. I went about researching everything there was to know about the city. I read and asked friends who have been to the place to share their experiences with me. This is because I have always dreamed of living in Takoradi. So when the opportunity landed in my lap, I didn’t take it lightly. I fantasized about my life over there and all the places I would explore. I was not even worried that I was leaving my friends and family behind to go to a new place.

When I finally arrived, the secretary of the company I was posted to, gave me all the gist I needed to know about my new city while I waited to meet the General Manager. It didn’t take much time for me to settle into my apartment and find my way around the town. I love cooking so the first place I went to was the market. That was where I met Araba. My first thought when I saw her was, “What is such a beautiful girl doing selling in the market when she should be working in a luxurious office?” I didn’t intend to shop that day but her beauty compelled me to buy from her. I am not exaggerating when I say she is beautiful by all standards.

I didn’t have the courage to say anything to her about friendship. But my feet always led me to her stall whenever I went to the market to shop. I mostly went there to look at her and admire her beautiful smile. However, one Saturday I met a gentleman sitting with her. They were chatting and laughing. The sight tore at my heart, and all I wanted to do was to throw him in the opposite direction of her. Honestly, looking at the guy made me feel I was looking at the devil. It was that day that I realized I had to make my move. So on my next visit to her stall, I asked her, “Where do you live? It will help if I come to your house sometimes to buy from you, instead of coming all the way to the market.” When she told me where she lived, I was glad to find out that we lived in the same neighbourhood. I took her number that day too.

I didn’t call her until after a week. And the person who answered the phone was a man. I panicked but I kept a calm voice as I asked, “Please, I want to talk to Araba.” A few seconds later, I heard Araba’s voice on the phone, “Hi, don’t mind my brother. He always answers my calls.” We had a good conversation that day. So we kept talking in the days that followed. We often talked late into the night, and the sound of her voice was like a blanket around me on those cold lonely nights. It didn’t take long before I professed my love for her. And she confessed her love for me too. That was the beginning of us.

Our relationship started hot and heavy, with a passion that burned brighter than a furnace. She spent days at my place when she didn’t have to go to the market. And when she had to go to the market to help her mother sell, we spent our weekends honeymooning in my apartment like newlyweds. It was amazing. I loved her so much that I wanted to introduce her to my parents. But Araba never availed herself to travel with me. She was always giving me excuses as to why she couldn’t go. “I have to attend a church program during that period.” Or “I am travelling with my mother to buy stuff for the market.” She kept at it until my mother fell ill and passed away. When it was time for the funeral, I thought she would make it so I could at least introduce her to my father, but that weekend she fell sick and couldn’t make it.

On the other side, my national service ended, and my company retained me, due to my dedication to work. It was good news for me, especially seeing as I would continue to stay in the city I love and be close to my girlfriend. I said a lot of amazing things about Araba to my dad, and he was eager to meet her. He was curious to see the girl who had me wrapped around her fingers. This time when I spoke to Araba about meeting my father, she agreed. All I had to do was to ask permission from her parents. So she formally introduced me to them. Their reception showed that they didn’t like me, but I didn’t care. All that mattered to me was that they gave their permission for Araba to travel home with me.

Before the date we planned to travel arrived, Araba called me at work saying she had something important to tell me. “What happened? Are you okay?” I was concerned. She responded, “We will talk about it when you close from work, so let me know when you get home.” Her cryptic response made me too anxious to work so I asked my boss to give me the rest of the day off. When I got home I called her, “I am home now, so come and let’s talk.” She was surprised that I was home already, and within twenty minutes she was at my doorstep with a bombshell that escalated my anxiety. “I am pregnant. That’s what I want to say to you.” “Well, what are…” “What are we…”  “What are we going to do about it?” I asked with confusion muddling my brain.

She told me, “My mother knows about it so we have to keep it.” A lot of thought was running through my mind. Yes, I loved her and I wanted to marry her but I wasn’t ready for fatherhood yet. However, it had happened so I just had to man up and take responsibility for my actions. I met her mother and she suggested that we get married quickly before anyone found out she was pregnant. So I went to see my father and informed him about it. He was disappointed that I didn’t wait till marriage for this to happen, but he asked me to bring Araba home all the same. When they finally met, you would think my father knew Araba from a past life. They clicked instantly and got along very well.

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From there, things were smooth between both our families. We were given the marriage list and we started making preparations for marriage. As we were making preparations, I started developing cold feet. There was something nagging me at the back of my mind. At the time we found out about the pregnancy, it was two months old. Meanwhile, I hadn’t slept with her within that time frame. So I doubted that the pregnancy was mine. I did my own calculations and the dates didn’t add up either. This was why I wasn’t in a hurry to marry her. Somehow, I managed to convince Araba that we should put the marriage on hold till the baby arrived. I told her that it would give us the opportunity to have her dream wedding.  She agreed to it so everyone else did.

When the child was born, everyone had their own version of who the child looked like. Some said he looked like me, while others said he looked like his mother, but I saw that he didn’t look like any of us. The arrival of the baby made Araba’s relationship with my father grow stronger. For the first time since my mother’s demise, my dad was happy. And so it broke my heart to think that the child he adored so much was not even his grandchild. This thought made me withdraw from Araba. As a result of that, we were always having trouble. At that moment too, DNA tests became a discussion on a Facebook group I was part of. So I researched DNA Test centres and how much it was going to cost me to get one. I knew if I brought it up, she wouldn’t agree. So I planned to have the test done secretly.

He Left Me Because I Was Raised By A Single Mother–Beads Media

By the time my son was two years old, Araba and I had taken time apart to work on our problems. That was when I secretly conducted the DNA test on our child. The report concluded that “The probability of paternity is 0%.” From that day forward, my feelings toward Araba fell flat. What was I going to do? Who was I going to talk to? Everyone knew Peter to be my son. And I love him as a father should love a son but the DNA test says he is not mine. After weeks of thinking about it, I decided not to tell anyone about it. I also ended my relationship with Araba without telling anyone why. I just stated different reasons. My father asked me to reconsider my decision but I refused. If only he knew the truth, he would have supported me.

It’s been over a year since my dad passed on. He went to his grave without knowing that his grandchild is not related to him by blood. My only comfort is that the boy brought him some happiness in his last days. Although I know the child is not mine, I still care for him and provide for his needs. My concern now is, does Araba know that the child is not mine? What if another man appears out of nowhere to claim the child? Should I do another DNA test just to be sure? If my fears come to pass then all my efforts will be in vain. What should I do?

–Mark

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