We had a fight. A terrible fight. All she wanted to do was hurt me so she said terrible things to bruise the shin of the man in me. She shouted on the phone; “Are you a man? Do you get up when men are being called? Tell me what you’ve done for me as a man in my life for the past two years. All you know is sex.”

For two years I’d done a lot in her life. I paid fees and gave her pocket money. I’d sent Momo and be there when she needed someone. She once told me I was the best thing that happened to her. But people lie when they want to hurt you. They can only hurt you when they succeed in making you feel small. She chose the words that would hammer me to my knees so she could look down on me. I didn’t budge. I came back stronger.

“Your mom was right to have committed suicide when you were a child. She knew she didn’t want to see you grow up to become this stupid so she took the early shower,” I replied.

She went quiet for a few seconds. “Fine, it’s over,” she said soberly. I shouted, “It’s over. Who do you think you are?”

I cut the call, deleted her number and went to the toilet. We think better when we are on the toilet. While there, I reflected deeply on everything I said. I concluded it was better for the relationship to an end but she didn’t deserve what I told her in the end. I wanted to call to apologize but also didn’t want to give her the armor to hurt me.

A few weeks later, I heard she was pregnant and she had named another man as the father of her unborn baby. I did the maths. The answer was bleak. I was solving for the wrong question but I concluded the child might as well be mine. I drafted a message to send to her. I’d deleted her number and everything that reminded me of her so I had to rely on my memory for her number.

“I got you pregnant and you gave it to another man just to prove that I’ve done nothing for you?”

I typed her number off my head and pressed ‘Send.’

A few minutes later I got a response; “Who’s this?”

I expected that answer. I knew she was going to prove to me that she had deleted my number and moved on. Another message came through asking me who I wanted to talk to. Then a call followed. I picked up quickly and said, “I know you’ve deleted my number but you can’t delete the fact that the pregnancy could be mine. She laughed and asked, “Who am I talking to?”

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The voice was different. I lifted the phone off my ears and looked at the number again. I laughed and responded, “Sorry, it’s a wrong line.” “No, it’s not a wrong line. Of all the numbers in the world, why my number?”

“Oh, it’s a wrong line. I meant to write seventeen at the end but wrote seventy-one instead. Forgive me.”

She wouldn’t take a no for an answer. She had reasons to believe I sent the message on purpose. She asked about my age and I told her. She asked where I lived, where I worked, the school I attended, and my Facebook handle. She cut the call and went to check my profile and came back to tell me, “I know you’re lying about the message but only time will tell.”

I asked her the same questions she asked me. She was reluctant to answer them. All she said was, “Tell whoever sent you that he has failed. I know what he’s doing and I’m watching him through crystal balls. He hacked my line and asked you to send this, right? He can hack my life but wouldn’t find anything wrong.”

She wasn’t the target so I corrected my mistake and sent the message to the original target, that’s my ex. She didn’t respond. She blocked me instead.

A few days later, the wrong number called again. Her name was Linda. This time she was jovial and friendly. She kept asking me to tell her the truth. “Duke sent you, right? Take me as your sister and tell me the truth.”

“Who’s Duke?” I asked.

We went on and on but didn’t understand each other. I saved her number and started watching her status. She posted a lot of coded messages as if she was sending subliminal messages to someone. She posted a few photos too. I asked her, “Is that you?”

“She responded, “Stop pretending that you don’t know me. I know what’s going on but the truth will come out.”

We didn’t talk again for a long while. One day she posted something on her status that sounded like she was mourning. It was late in the night but I sent a heart emoji. She responded, “Are you happy now? Duke told you, right?”

So instead of getting to know her, I wanted to know who Duke was. She wasn’t ready to talk to me about anything because she thought I already knew. “Fine, it’s OK. It hurts that you don’t believe me but God knows I’ve never lied to you. It was a mistake but you won’t believe me so it’s OK.”

I told her the full story of me and my ex, how we broke up and how I accidentally sent her the message. I sent screenshots of when I sent the message to the real number with the date and time. She opened up a window to her story that day.

She got pregnant for Duke, a boyfriend living abroad. Duke visited for two weeks and the pregnancy happened. The guy denied being responsible because according to him, he heard Linda had other boyfriends. Linda was pregnant the day my message found her. In her mind, it was Duke who was trying to test her to see if indeed there was someone.

While she didn’t believe me, she was grappling with what to do with the pregnancy since Duke didn’t want to be a father. When she settled on keeping the baby, she miscarried it. Days later, she updated her status with the sad news and I was the one to respond with a heart emoji. Her suspicion was perfect for the situation but it wasn’t what it was and I had to prove it.

Telling me her story was the closure I needed to move on from that episode. We didn’t talk again until I completely shut the memory of her down in my mind. She belonged to the archives until one day, I was scrolling through my contacts when I saw her number. It had been almost a year.

I said hello to her that day. She answered, “Hello, who is this?” I said, “This is the second time in a single lifetime that you’re asking me this question. I hope this will be the last time.”

She sent laughing emojis. She told me she was pulling my legs because she knew. We talked from that day until we decided to meet in person. She came dressed like a woman who had it all together. I said in my mind, “Wow, she won’t like me. This one is way beyond my league.”

It was a beautiful night of laughter and filling in the hole we left in our individual stories. She asked, “Would you want to do this again next time?” I answered, “If we have to do it tomorrow, I will be ready.”

Our third date was at her place. She cooked and called me husband material because I was all over in her space until the food was done. The fourth date was at my place. She said, “Duke will be hurt to know the guy he sent is now my best friend.” We laughed over it. I said, “Wait, did you say best friend? When did you start friend-zoning me?”

Another round of laughter ended with, “Will you be my girlfriend?” She answered, “What else can I be if being a best friend isn’t available?”

That’s how we found each other. I had to make a mistake to find the one meant for me. She had to make her own mistake so the two of us could have a perfect moment of chaos that would later bring us to this point of peace. But I must admit that three years of marriage hasn’t been all peaceful but who said it would be?

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We are just grateful for our mistakes in love and where they brought us. We couldn’t have asked for a better life than what we currently have with our first child. We know it’s life and it goes on so someday things will be better than this but until then, we’ll enjoy what has been freely given to us, life.    

— Darius

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