My husband traveled abroad just before we celebrated our first anniversary. The idea was for the two of us to eventually relocate, so I supported him with everything I had to help him travel. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I prayed for him and supported him in every way I could, even after he got abroad.

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Whenever we talked, it was about the weather and how difficult life was in that country. A year later, he brought his younger brother over. Whenever we talked, it was about how hard it was to get a better job and earn a good salary. Another year later, his sister joined him. The most depressing part about his sister joining him was the fact that her husband had been living in that same country for years but hadn’t been able to bring her over. It was my husband who made it possible for his sister to join her husband.

Whenever we talked, it was about his dream of renting a bigger place for the two of us so that when I finally joined him, we would have a comfortable place to live. His sister, who had joined her husband, got pregnant and delivered, and my husband paid for his mom to travel abroad to help take care of the baby.

I was patient through it all. I swallowed my anger and bitterness so I wouldn’t destroy things with my emotions. I kept hoping that after all was said and done, it would finally be my turn. It didn’t—until his mom traveled abroad, and I got the full picture.

It had been seven years since he traveled, but I was still here waiting for him while he made it possible for everyone else to travel. When I questioned him, he gave me all the reasons it was easier for them to join him but not for him to bring me over. I told him, “It’s been seven years. I’ve waited. I’ve been loyal. I’ve been tempted several times, but the love I have for you wouldn’t let me go astray. I’m not asking for too much. If you won’t ever come for me, let me know so I can move on.”

He made all the promises in the world and gave me every assurance that he had always loved me and would bring me over at the right time. He even said he had started working on my documents and asked me to give him one more year.

One day, while talking to him on the phone, he said his mom had come to visit him, so I should talk to her. We talked for a few minutes, and she later handed the phone back to my husband. Again, my travel issue came up, and we talked about it calmly. After I said goodbye, I didn’t cut the line, and he didn’t either. I heard his mom saying, “She still has hope that you’re going to bring her over? Eiii, then she has great faith, papa. She wants you to bring her here so she’ll come and sit on your head.”

Then they both burst out laughing. My husband said, “She should stay there and not go looking for another man to marry. She’ll stay there until she dies an old woman.”

It broke my heart, but I didn’t cry. I stayed on the line until I heard him say, “Eiii, she’s still on the line ooo.” Then he cut the call.

I told my dad about it, and he said, “All is not lost. You can still recover.” When I called his line again, I told him I wanted a divorce. He screamed, “How can you say that? What happened?” I didn’t explain myself. I told him I would return his drink to his family, and we would take it from there.

He called every day asking for a reason. “Is it about the travel? I’ve told you to wait. How long is a year that you can’t wait?”

I was calm. I didn’t fight him. I didn’t exchange words with him. I insisted I wanted a divorce. I returned his drink to his family, and they informed him. He said, “Fine. If that’s what you want, I can’t stop you. At least, I tried.”

We went through the divorce process like a knife through butter—very easy and smooth. I was broken to pieces. When it was finally granted, I cried. It wasn’t only money I had wasted. I had wasted my time, my loyalty, my years of waiting, and my heart loving a wicked man. Yet people will tell you to forgive and forget as if it were that easy.

My dad called me one early morning and said, “Now watch what is going to happen.”

I’m not going to go into all the details for the sake of my security and also the security of everyone involved. My ex-husband has been in Ghana since 2022 and hasn’t gone back abroad. He doesn’t even know what hit him to make him return to this country.

I don’t know what his sister saw, but she called after three years of divorce and asked how much I needed as compensation.

I asked, “Compensation for what?”

She responded, “Oh, you know we haven’t been fair to you. After the divorce, as a family, we should have given you a better farewell. Even if you want to come abroad, I will help and make sure you get here.”

I smiled and said, “I’m okay. God has been keeping me, so I don’t need any compensation.”

She laughed. She asked me to forgive her brother. She said she was on her knees. I said, “Ah, Eno, what are you saying? Why would you call me after all these years and talk to me as if we still have that kind of relationship? I’m fine.”

Their mother had tried twice to go back abroad as a babysitter, but each time she was denied. Her brother was also back in Ghana and going through exactly what he had once escaped from. She was the only one still there, and maybe she feared for her position, so she thought she should come clean.

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My ex-husband is walking around town. If you see him, you wouldn’t think he had ever traveled abroad. The last time I saw him, he couldn’t look at me twice. My dad tells me, “Just watch. It’s not over yet.” So I’m just here. I’m not even watching them. Everyone can commit a sin and appear to go scot-free, but that doesn’t mean they actually will.

I don’t know what my dad did, and I’m not even bothered. He gave me one instruction: just wait and see. I’ve seen a lot already, and what I’ve seen has brought peace to my heart.

My love life is good now. I was delayed but not denied. I have a child and a man I call my husband. We live in Ghana, but we are at peace.

—Solace

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