Two years into our relationship, we were already planning our wedding when my father fell ill. At first, it was just body pains. Then came the headaches. Severe headaches. Before we could even understand what was happening, he became immobile and needed round-the-clock care.

As his only surviving child, I moved in with him immediately. My fiancé and I had no choice but to put our wedding plans on hold. We had already spent time, money, and energy preparing for the future we dreamed of together. We had finished premarital counselling. The church was only waiting for us to choose a date before my father’s illness changed everything.

During that difficult season, my fiancé stood beside me like a rock. When life felt too heavy, he carried part of the weight for me. When I needed money for my father’s drugs or transportation to the hospital, he helped. On the days exhaustion swallowed me whole, I would call him crying, asking questions only God could answer. Questions about suffering. About life. About why bad things happen to good people.

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He would stay on the phone and listen quietly while I cried myself empty.

And maybe that is why what happened next shattered me so deeply. Because while I was drowning and trusting him to keep me afloat, he was living an entirely different life behind my back.

One evening, I went through his phone. I know many people will stop there and say that was my first mistake. Maybe it was. But what I found inside that phone changed me forever. Hidden carefully in locked folders were videos of him sleeping with different women. So many women. I remember staring at the screen, unable to breathe properly. My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone. It felt like I had suddenly stepped into somebody else’s nightmare.

Instead of apologising sincerely, he turned the entire situation around and made it about me checking his phone. According to him, that was the real betrayal.

Every conversation became the same thing. “You disrespected my privacy.” “You invaded my phone.” “After everything I’ve done for you and your father, this is how you repay me?”

Somehow, I always ended up becoming the guilty one. There is a saying that if something looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it is probably a duck. My fiancé is a cheat. And deep down, I know he is not going to change.

Yes, he says he will. He tells beautiful stories about becoming a better man. He promises growth. He promises commitment. But even now, I can still feel the presence of those women lingering around him like shadows waiting for darkness. A man who refuses to admit he is wrong can never truly change.

My fiancé is a man liked by many. He is a saint. He is the church guy. The man who blasts gospel music every morning. The man who listens to sermons loudly enough for the neighbours to hear. In every sentence, there is a mention of God.

“How are you?”

“I am good.”

Even if his employer asks, “Have you sent the document to my email?”

“By the grace of God, I have.” With this kind of man, who will believe me when I say he cheats?

And now, I no longer want to marry him. Do I walk away quietly? Do I explain myself to the church? Do I disappear before the wedding conversations begin again?

What happens when people say I abandoned the man who stood by me during my hardest moments? What happens when he tells everyone how much he sacrificed for me and my father? Will they see me as ungrateful?

Unfortunately, my father eventually lost his battle with the illness. And I will never lie about the kind of man my fiancé was during that period. He showed up for us in ways many people would not have. Sometimes, even family members could not do what he did. He was present through the hospital visits, the sleepless nights, the emotional breakdowns, and the financial pressure.  Nobody close to us can deny that. In fact, this is not a secret story that exists only in my head. Everyone around us saw it. They saw how devoted he was to my father.  And maybe that is part of why leaving him feels so impossible.

What if I leave and end up alone? I am thirty years old. I will be thirty-one before the end of the year. People like to pretend age does not scare women, but sometimes it does. Especially when you genuinely want love, marriage, companionship, and a family of your own.

What if nobody else chooses me? What if I regret walking away from a man who, despite everything, once made me feel supported? Because the truth is, I have spent most of my life feeling emotionally alone.I have always longed for one person I could call mine completely. One person who would love me without conditions. One person who would stay.

And for a long time, I thought he was that person. That is what makes this so painful.

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I could have stayed if I had seen genuine remorse. If I had seen honesty. If I had seen effort. But you cannot force someone to change when they do not even believe they have done anything wrong. Deep down, I know I have to leave. I just do not know how to walk away from someone I once planned forever with without breaking into pieces myself.

—Fafa

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