Four years ago I said yes to a married man. I said yes because of the kind of woman he had as a wife. The woman was so beautiful and graceful that I thought the man saw the same beauty and grace in me that’s why he came forward.

I was twenty-two and a student then. He came to my school and brought me a lot of stuff. When I needed money, I called him and he sent the money. I would ask about his wife very often until he told me not to bring his wife into our conversations again.

This man loved me in so many ways but I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with him. I don’t know why that was. I lied that I wasn’t going to do it until I was twenty-three. He said he would wait. On my twenty-third birthday, he came to see me in school with gifts and promises. After everything he asked me, “So when are we going to do it?”

Again, I made a promise I knew I wasn’t going to keep. I told him it was too soon. I told him to give me a few weeks. This is why I said he loved me in so many ways. No matter how I strung him along, he was patient and never pushy. I don’t know what gave him hope but he was willing to wait until one day I told him, “I will do it when I complete school. The very day I leave campus, I’ll meet you wherever you want me to.”

He left me and never picked up my calls again. I was heartbroken, to be honest. I called him even at night when he had warned me never to call at that time. I texted that I was ready. I was desperate to have him back in my life again. I was beautiful only because he had a beautiful wife so without him, I felt ugliness would take over my life.

I acted desperately for weeks and then slowly, everything vanished out of my heart. But I didn’t forget about him. Every now and then, he came to mind. When I was home and I saw him, everything came back to me again. Whenever I saw his wife, I felt I was just like her; graceful and beautiful.

I came home days ago only to see this man’s posters on the wall. I thought he was contesting for an MP. I drew closer only to see it was an obituary poster. I was instantly struck with grief and started sobbing. I thought of all the good things he did and the fact that I didn’t reciprocate. Somehow, I felt I’d lost a husband too. I no longer felt young. I felt like a widow.

She Calls My Mom A Witch Because Of This…

I feel guilty for treating him badly. He did a lot. I mean a lot. A lot of things my parent couldn’t do for me. If I knew he had a few years to live maybe I would have done things differently. I don’t know but I feel there was something I could have done to make him feel loved. Now I’m here wearing black for him, hoping he will know that I’m mourning his death. Short life, yet so many things to do.

—Aso

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******