I came home one evening and met my landlord waiting at my door. He didn’t live in the house with us, so anytime we saw him, we knew there was something to say or something he wanted us to do. He told me that evening that he needed my room for something, so he’s giving me one month to move.

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I had seven months’ rent left and didn’t have the money to rent another place at that very moment. I called Charles, my boyfriend, and told him about it. “The sad thing is, even if he gives me my remaining rent today, I won’t be able to add anything to get a new place.”

He sighed and asked me what we were going to do. We had dated for two years, and within these two years we had supported each other in every other way, but when it came to finances, it was hard for both of us. He didn’t have the kind of job that made him enough money to spend on me. I understood his situation, so I never demanded anything from him. He gave me when he could, and not because I asked. I never asked, especially when it came to money.

I started looking for accommodation with him. We couldn’t even hire an agent to do it for us because we didn’t have the money. Two weeks later, nothing came up. All the places we found demanded two years’ advance and asked for an amount we could pay only if we sold our kidneys.

One afternoon, we entered a house and met a man who said he had two rooms available. He was Agyeman. He took us in to inspect the rooms. Spacious, new, and had everything we wanted. We knew immediately that we couldn’t afford it, and truly, when he mentioned the amount, we both smiled and said it was way beyond our budget. He asked who was looking for the accommodation, and I said I was.

He gave me his number and said there was a friend who had empty rooms that were cheaper. He would check with him later and find out if he still had an empty space, so I should give him a call later in the week and find out.

I called a day later and he said, “If you need it that much, then come over and let’s go and check.” I went to see him right after work the next day, and he asked me, “How much can you afford to pay? Just mention it. If it’s reasonable, we can work something out.” When I told him, he laughed. “In this neighborhood, it will be hard to get a place with this amount ooo,” he said. I begged him to try his friend for me as if I’d known him for ages. “If he would accept one year, I will pay half and pay the rest later.”

We didn’t go to his friend’s place. He said he wanted to help me because I looked like a good person and he’d come to like me. I asked how, and he told me he could give me a place in his house and even make me a caretaker because he didn’t live there and would travel abroad in a few weeks.

Right away, I knew what he wanted because the way he called every morning, afternoon, and evening to check on me wasn’t natural. The messages he sent were also very suggestive. Even when I told him the guy I came there with was my boyfriend, he didn’t bother.

The one month the landlord gave me elapsed. We still didn’t have a place. Everywhere I turned for a loan turned blurry. In fact, I even stopped searching because what was the point? My landlord paid my remaining amount and started getting impatient. I called Agyeman and told him everything. I even cried to him to accept what I had so I would add up later. He asked me to come over to his place, and I did, holding the amount my landlord had refunded.

He said, “By this time you should know I don’t need your money. It’s you I need. Why don’t you do the right thing and get the place? I’m leaving in a few days. Make life easy for yourself. After all, what do you lose?”

I didn’t go back home that day. I spent the night with him. A fifty-something-year-old man who could have been my father. I was ridden with guilt, but guilt wasn’t going to pay the rent, so all night I watched him happily doing things to my body as if he created it and could use me as he pleased.

My phone was on silent. I woke up the next morning to see several calls from Charles. The last call was around 1 a.m. He had texted to ask where I was. I responded, “I had to spend the night with a friend so we could go and see a place early this morning.”

He didn’t believe me, judging by the questions he was asking, but I was too tired to explain myself. Agyeman gave me the keys to the place and told me he would have two guys available to help me clean and set up the place. I didn’t know how to explain to Charles how I got the money to pay for the place. It took me days. It was when he kept asking about the place I went to see with my friend that I told him, “My uncle has agreed to pay the rent for me, so I’ve decided to take Agyeman’s place.”

I was expecting a happy response, but all I got were questions. “Which uncle? Where is he that you’ve never mentioned him? How much did he give you, and when did you go for the money that you didn’t tell me?”

My answers brought more questions until I finally moved to Agyeman’s place. Those guys he promised were there to help me with everything I needed. I didn’t see Agyeman again, but we chatted every night. He wanted another night before he travelled abroad. That’s the problem. They ask once and later want more. I gave him excuses, but he was very insistent. So the night before he travelled, I went to his place and we spent the night together.

Charles came to spend the night with me the following day. He wanted sex, but I was too tired and also scared that if I allowed him, he would know I’d done it with another man. I pushed him away and slept. I woke up to see him in the corner of the room going through my phone. I don’t know how he got the password. Immediately I lifted my head, he placed my phone down quickly and pretended he was doing something else.

When I checked my phone, I could see all the apps he’d opened while I was asleep. WhatsApp was the last app. I was waiting for him to ask questions or go mad and start throwing things around. He didn’t do any of that. He talked to me normally. He smiled normally and lived like he had not seen anything.

It’s been two weeks, and I’m still waiting for him to ask questions, but he acts as though he didn’t read the messages. He acts too normal—too fine. I’m even scared whenever I’m with him alone. Why is he not asking questions? Is he waiting for the right time to strike? Why is he acting normal? Too normal. If I hadn’t seen him going through my phone, I would have thought nothing happened.

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Should I be the one to start the conversation? Should I just tell him it’s over before he says it? Too many questions. Sometimes I’m scared I would spend the night with him and won’t wake up again. Agyeman is gone. I have a nice place to live, but I don’t have peace of mind or the harmony of heart. Hmmm.

—Lucy

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