When I told her I loved her and wanted to date her, she told me she had a boyfriend who was in the military, but the guy was not serious about her, so she was about to exit the relationship. I asked why she wouldn’t exit as soon as possible, and she said she had but was only waiting to have that final conversation with the guy.

So I would visit her, and we would talk about my proposal and how far things had gone between her and the military guy. She never had anything good to say about this guy, but whenever I talked about leaving him, she would find an excuse.

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I was at her place one evening when it started to rain. All evening, the rain wouldn’t stop. She undressed in front of me and entered the bathroom to go and bathe. I told myself, “This girl is messing with me. If she could do this, then she had already accepted my proposal.”

She came out of the bathroom with a towel around her waist. In my head, I’d been served a table in front of my enemies. Immediately she sat next to me, we heard a knock on the door. She screamed, “Who is that?”

And then this macho voice responded, “Who else would be knocking on your door at this time?”

She quivered and then whispered, “He’s here. Please hide. He will leave very soon. Go, go under the bed.”

It wasn’t a tall bed, but I had to squeeze and make myself small to be able to get under it. The guy entered. I saw the tip of his boot, dirty and wet. The first thing he placed on the floor was a gun. One of those long ones. My heart started beating faster. And then his wet uniform followed.

He asked, “Why are you so quiet? Are we still fighting?”

She didn’t respond. The guy sat on the bed. She moved to the sofa. Then it turned into a struggle. She screamed at him, “I told you it was over. You won’t text or even respond to my calls. You only appear when you want. Not this time. You have to leave.”

“Leave a house I rented for you? What are you telling me? I’ve told you what the problem is…”

I was praying under the bed, sweating and hoping he would leave soon, as she had said. But a guy who takes off his clothes and puts his weapon down doesn’t look like someone who is leaving anytime soon.

After several minutes of arguing and fighting, the light went off, and they both fell on the bed. The mattress came down and made the space even smaller down there.

“Not tonight.”

“You know I miss you.”

“Yeah, but not tonight.”

I heard the sounds of kissing, and then it started. I had to change the position of my head to avoid the dust falling into my eyes. I thought this guy would at least enter the bathroom so I could run, but he never did. Not once.

At dawn, they went again. This time, very vigorously and for a long time. I was so tired that I wanted to come out so whatever happened would happen, but coming out from under there wasn’t even an easy task.

I stayed until around 4 a.m. This guy dressed up, picked up his weapon, and walked out. He didn’t bathe. I had to stay there for a few minutes to ensure he wasn’t coming back before I crawled out.

I didn’t look at her face. She didn’t say anything. I turned the door knob and walked out.

My house is not far from her house, but walking home felt like a pilgrimage that never ended. I was pained. My ego was bruised. I felt misused and abused. All through the walk home, the sound of the bed kept ringing in my ears. This was a woman I loved and had even proposed to, but I had to bear witness to another man being with her.

She called a few hours later. She started, “I don’t even know what to say. Do you know that if I didn’t do it, he would have gotten aggressive and maybe suspected your presence? I did it because of you. Just to calm him down and get you out of danger.”

I responded, “It’s fine. He’s your boyfriend, so I understand. My only prayer was not to be found, and it worked.”

“I hope you’re not angry at me?”

“Oh no, far from it. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? So would you come over again, or should I come?”

“I will tell you when I get the time.”

I avoided her like the plague. I missed her calls intentionally and never called back. I read her texts and didn’t respond. She would come to my house and leave a message. She stopped trying, and for several weeks, I didn’t hear from her again.

But that sound, the bed going up and down, the imagination of my own death if I had been found, and the emotional abuse never stopped playing in my head.

Is There A Man Out There Who Doesn’t Cheat?

And then she called a few days ago, months after that event, to tell me they had finally broken up, so I still had a chance.

Dear, Emelia, if I were your brother, would you advise me to take this chance? You said you did it because of me, just to calm the situation. And you did it twice? Must you calm the same situation twice in such a vigorous manner?

It’s fine. I loved you. I wanted to start something with you. You were honest with me when you said you had a boyfriend. It’s the reason I don’t blame you much, but don’t ever tell me I still have a chance.

How do I date you and still forget what happened that night? He’s a military man ooo. Please, leave me here wai. I’m thankful for the offer, but I’m fine without it.

Yours, never.

—The Man Under The Bed

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