There are two men in my story. One is my husband, the father of my two children. The other is a man who looks like my second chance at love, the one I never thought I would get.

Nine years ago, I got married. I was nineteen years old, and I was pregnant. He was ready to do the right thing, so his family came to my family, they took the list of everything required, they bought them all, and I moved in to stay with him. He is a security officer, a soldier, and right now he is somewhere far away, fighting a war I do not understand.

Our marriage was never the fairy tale you dream about as a girl. But I can say this, my husband did love me, in his own way. He tried his best to provide for us, I know that. But a soldier’s pay does not go far, especially with a family to feed. So I had to step in. I went into animal rearing to help us survive. I would go to people’s houses and work for them, cleaning, washing, whatever they needed, I was doing it. We even managed to farm a small piece of land, and God really blessed our efforts there.

I was not a woman with expensive taste or big demands. My only concern was making sure there was food on the table for my family. So I did not have the energy or the money to dress nice, to buy expensive attires and put them on my back when my husband returned from his postings. But I made do with what I had. I would use the little lip liner I had, the lipstick I had kept for long, I would wear my hair nicely with what I could afford. I would wear the same old clothes for months, three, sometimes four months straight, just so I could save a little money to buy something nice for the kids. I never asked him for new shoes for myself, or wigs, or any of those things other women might want. I was content just to keep my children decent.

But he did not see it that way.

“Why are you dressed like that?” he would ask me, his voice full of disgust. “Can’t you see what your fellow military wives are doing on TikTok? Why is your nightie torn? Why is there so much pimples on your face?”

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He could nag for days about how stingy I was with the money he gave me. According to him, I was not taking care of the children well. That is what he goes about saying to my family and to everyone who calls to ask about us. He warned me once, he said, “If you do not take care, I will take the kids to my family to take care of. You are doing a terrible job. They will not learn the right way staying with you.”

When my health deteriorated and I needed a surgery, he was not there. He just left me alone to my fate. And he said the most hurtful thing a husband should never say to his wife. He looked at me and said, “Cover yourself up. Your medication has taken over your body. Do something about it.”

So I packed my bags and I returned to my family home.

That was when I saw him again. My second chance at love. His name is Bra Kweku. He has always been there to be honest, even when I was a child, young and free, but back then I turned him down. I chose someone else and I built a life with someone else. But after I came back home, we started talking. One day, after we took a long stroll and talked about everything and nothing, I ended up in his room and it happened just once. Just one time. And I even took the emergency pills the next morning because I was so afraid. But guess who is pregnant? I am. I am pregnant and when I told him, he did not run. He wants to marry me.

I am thinking about it. I am giving it a serious thought. But the soldier, my husband, he is begging me now. His family is always in front of my door, begging me to return to him. “I will take better care of you and the kids,” he is promising me. But I have gone. I am gone, staying with Bra Kweku.

My mom keeps telling me, “You should leave Evans alone. Bra Kweku is the one who truly cares for you.”

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And she is right. The kind of care Bra Kweku has shown me in these few weeks is more than I have ever seen with Evans in nine years. It has been so long since I felt this seen, this valued. I do not want to leave him. I want to stay here with him.

So here I am. Caught between the father of my children, the life I know, and a new man who wants to build a future with me, and I am carrying his child. I do not know what to do. My heart is so heavy.

—Glad

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