My mom died when I was very young. My brother was ten, and I was eight. I didn’t see much of what happened, but by the time I realised, we were living in another home. We went to live with my aunt and her husband while my dad also travelled abroad.

My aunt had two daughters, Martha and Rita. Rita was almost my age, so she became the one I got attached to. We were in the same class together and even went to the same SHS, sat in the same class, and were in the same dormitory. She slept on the lower bed, and I was on the upper one. We remained this way until we completed SHS.

They called us twins. We were more than that. Two-peas-in-a-pod kind of twins. She fought several battles for me because I was weaker. I remember when my boyfriend in school started breaking my heart, it was Rita who went to warn him to put his act together or he’d never know peace. She had my back in every way, so when, after SHS, my dad was coming for us, my heart was shattered.

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I pleaded with my dad to take Rita with us. He said he could only take us because the law didn’t make it easy for Rita to travel to the UK with us. He promised he would do his best to later bring Rita to live with us.

In the UK, I always prayed to have her with us, but my dad had other plans. Once we were with him, he forgot the rest, but I kept in contact with Rita. We talked. We sent messages. We gossiped. Through her, I knew everything that was happening in Ghana. I missed home because of her.

Along the line, growth happened. We didn’t talk much because life got busy. When I got married, I told her. When I had my first child, she was the first person I sent pictures of the baby to. She was family. My only sister on the face of the earth.

In 2020, Rita had the opportunity to travel to the UK. I was over the moon. The plan was for her to come and live with us for a while until she found her feet, but then COVID happened and her trip was cancelled.

In 2023, she started trying again. I gave her all the help she needed to secure a visa easily, but it was very hard. It got to a point where we both believed it was the witches from our hometown doing everything against her travel. Finally, when she got the visa, I was also on my way back to Ghana for a visit. I had to arrange with my husband to receive her.

I was in Ghana on a Sunday. I met Rita. We hugged and didn’t want to let go. I’d missed her so much that I was sad she was going to leave me for the UK in a few days. But there was hope that I would see her soon in the UK, so it didn’t hurt much. On Wednesday, Rita left for the UK. My husband picked her up and took her home. I was in Ghana but directing affairs from here.

We were on video calls often. When she had an issue and couldn’t tell my husband about it because she was shy, she called me and we got it resolved. I was in Ghana for one month. When I went back to the UK, it was a huge reunion. Like childhood again, where we shared a bed and even a towel together. She lived with us for over six months until she got a job around Stratford and left.

A few months later, she told me she had met a man who was interested in her. She said the man was a Nigerian. I advised her as someone who had been in the UK for long and knew how men behaved there. I asked her to be careful. Two months later, she was pregnant for this man. I asked, “Rita, are you sure of what you’re doing? Do you know the cost of having a baby in your situation?”

She told me the man was ready to help and also cover for her. I was happy for her, especially when she told me all was well. I never saw the man. She didn’t show me a picture, but I was fine when she spoke very highly of him.

She had a baby boy in July 2025. I travelled there to be with her for a week. I helped with the baby and ran errands for her. I was expecting to meet her husband for the first time, but it never happened. She said he had travelled to Scotland for a job.

At the beginning of this year, I had messages from someone on Facebook. Because I wasn’t friends with the person who sent the message, it went somewhere else, and it took me over a month to see it. The person said, “Do you know the father of Rita’s son? Don’t be too trusting of her. Start asking questions.”

The second message arrived a week later. The person said, “Let me make it easier for you. Rita’s son belongs to your husband. Don’t die. Live to find out the truth.”

The last message read, “This account is fake, but I’m very close to the crime scene. I know Rita and I know you too. I won’t lie. Start asking questions.”

I started thinking about all the changes my marriage had gone through since Rita came to town, the suspicious trips my husband had been going on, and the unnecessary fights he used just to stay away from me.

I didn’t know where to start, but I watched my husband very well. I noticed the nuances of his moves and how his phone usage culture had changed without me noticing it. He said he was travelling with a friend to help him do a gig. He was going for just a day.

He left in the morning. I followed him in the evening. Around 9 p.m., I was at Rita’s door knocking. When she opened, I quickly entered. My husband was seated there shirtless, with the boy on his lap, playing.

That day that I didn’t die, I don’t think I will ever die again. Maybe I’m not mortal. I could feel my heart somersaulting in my chest. I quickly sat down on the floor because I was dizzy. I broke into tears. “Rita! Eii Rita. Rita. Eiii, eiii, eii Rita. Rita…”

That’s all I could say while they remained frozen. Nobody even tried to offer some sort of apology. She ran to the bedroom, leaving me and my husband there. He held my shoulders, saying he was going to explain to me but didn’t know where to start.

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

I exhaled and walked away. Nobody back home could believe my story. Her mom said it sounded like an Ananse story in her ears. “You mean your own sister Rita? This curse won’t be easy to erase.”

I nearly went mad. I’m still going through therapy. What’s worse? Rita was pregnant again the day I found them. She’s back in Ghana, while I’m going through a bitter divorce with my husband. He doesn’t want to agree to the divorce. He knows what he will lose once the divorce goes through. He’ll be back to zero.

Anytime I go down on my knees, I say a prayer for my heart, but I also tell God to let me see justice if He’s indeed a just God.

—Fiona

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