It started from Facebook. He sent me a message, I replied, and the next thing I knew we were texting each other every single day.

One evening, when we were talking about love, the conversation drifted into our love lives. I told him how I had been through it, how I had smelt pepper from men. He too told me his story. “Women have thrown me in the mud, so I am on a break,”

Before we knew it, we had tied the ends of our half cloths together to make a full piece, trying to heal each other.

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We planned to meet for the very first time since we became friends on Facebook, that very day we played a “game.” It was something we both were looking forward to.

A week later, I was peeing on a pregnancy test kit. It was positive. The next day, I walked into a room and returned it back to where it was coming from.

The next time we met, we did it again and I fell pregnant once more. The first time, I hadn’t told him, but this time I did. He asked me what I wanted to do. I wanted to keep it. He didn’t fight it; he shrugged and said, “Okay, let’s do it.” He literally gave me his word and asked me to hold on to it, and I did with all my strength and might.

A few months into the pregnancy, I relocated and moved in with him. It was to make the journey easy for him too. He would have access to bond with the child more, and even with me. He told me he was going to marry me.

The few times I felt sick and went to the hospital, he never visited. When I asked him for money to pay the bills, he would scream at me. Sometimes he paid half and told me to add the rest. In his defense, “I did not make the child alone.” Technically, it was true, but I thought men were supposed to be providers.

When I complained about the upkeep money he gave me, he said I was eating too much for one child that I was carrying. On some days, I had to call my mother for money, otherwise hunger would have swallowed me whole.

He tortured me all through the pregnancy until I went into labour and returned home, only to see that he had packed all my belongings out of the wardrobe. Honestly, I thought the worst part was over because you know how people say men change when you are pregnant. I thought coming home with the baby in my arms would be different, that we would continue from where our love story paused.

But in our case, it was different. He got angry over the smallest things, even the male friends I posted. According to him, he could not be with a woman who posted another man. It was below his standards. That was his reason for changing his mind about marrying me.

I asked questions. Where does that leave us? What does it make us? Co-parents? What about the child that we have?

He asked me to gather his friends so I could publicly apologise to him in front of them, and then they would also apologise to him, so that he could change his mind about marrying me.

That one, I couldn’t bring myself to even think of doing. I refused to gather his friends and beg like a criminal, so I told him to do his worst.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t only bark, he bites as well. He followed through on his threats and packed my belongings out of the room. Now, I am standing there with my bags in the open.

My only argument is that he should rent a place for me, since he was the reason I gave up the apartment I was originally paying for with my own money. I told him once he settled the rent and replaced the roof he made me leave, I would need nothing from him again. I work, and I can support myself, but it was about the sacrifice I made for him.

He refused. He said no to even that small piece of justice.

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I have decided not to ask him for anything ever again. I am moving on with my life and carrying my own weight as I always have. But I promised him one thing before I turned my back: he will pay for every single thing he has put me through. I am leaving it all to the universe now. Time will tell.

 

—Dromo
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