I had been married for five years, and I’d never removed my ring. I wore it as a badge, and its gleam told the story of my marriage to anyone who looked at it. After five years, the ring mark on my finger looked like it was sinking deep into my skin, so I removed my ring to let my finger breathe. I did it on a Saturday, and that very day, I exchanged contacts with Mavis, a lady I met in a trotro.

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She had given a hundred cedis to the mate for a three-cedi fare, and the mate was angry. I asked the mate to deduct her fare from the money I had given him. She thanked me. We talked about the mate’s anger, and we laughed. She asked for my name, and I gave it to her. She got down first, and before she did, she asked me for my number, and I gave it to her.

She texted to say thank you. She texted to say she hadn’t met men who were kind for nothing. She texted to ask what I did for a living, and gradually we built some sort of friendship that allowed us to have conversations at any time of the day.

What I realized immediately was that she liked sending photos of whatever she was doing. You would ask what she was doing, and she would send you a photo of her computer screen and say, “I’m on my computer.” When she was stepping out, she would send me a photo of herself and say, “Look at what I’m wearing to step out.”

I woke up expecting to see more from her and because she didn’t see a ring on my finger, I also let the married side of me slide until we went too far emotionally.

We met one day, and I had to show up without my ring because she didn’t know me as a man who wore one. The date went very well. The chemistry was there. She invited me to her house. That was also the day we kissed.

She asked, “Does it mean you like me?”

I answered, “It means I’ve been loving you since the day we met.”

“So it’s a relationship?” she asked.

I answered, “If only you’re single and no one will beat me, then it is.”

“I’m no longer single,” she responded. “I found a man today. You.”

Now I had to start building lies to support my new way of life. I told her I was a stranger in town. I only came to town to work on projects, so I didn’t stay for long. I only came around whenever there was a project to be done. She asked how long I’d been in town, and I said only a month. She asked where I lived, and I told her my colleagues and I shared a room where the project had assigned us.

She would see me only once in a while when I told her I was coming to town to work. We could talk for two months and meet only once because I had lied that I was coming to town. One day, she suggested that I shouldn’t stay with my colleagues since I was visiting only for the weekend. I had to lie to my wife about attending a funeral so I could spend my first night with Mavis.

Maybe my wife noticed a change in me, a change I didn’t even know I was showing. One morning she asked me, “Who is Mavis?”

“Who is Mavis?” I asked her.

She said, “You sent GHC1,000 to her on 11th May. Before that, you had sent her GHC500 a week earlier, and then another GHC700. What work does she do for you to deserve all these payments?”

I thought it was only my MoMo payment history she had seen, so I started building a wall of lies, one on top of another, just to let her know it wasn’t anything serious until she asked, “Why did you tell her you’re a contractor?”

Then she added, “And she said she couldn’t wait to have you in her bed. Do you share a bed with her?”

At that point, I knew my wife knew more than I thought she did. So I shut up and watched her ask question after question, each one making her angrier than the last.

“So you wear your ring only when you’re in this house, but the rest of the world thinks you’re not married. Is that it?” Within the twinkling of an eye, she packed up and left with our son. “Go and live with Mavis. The way you provide for her, she should also provide for you.”

I blocked Mavis and disappear completely so I could work on saving my marriage. My wife’s parents made it even worse, especially her mom. That woman didn’t even want to see my face when I went there to beg my wife. She would tell me my wife wasn’t home even when I could hear her voice coming from her room.

Five months after our separation, my wife rented a house and moved in without telling me where she lived. I knew it was her mother’s idea. When I went there to see my wife, her mother told me, “Why don’t you divorce her and be free? Obviously, she doesn’t want the marriage anymore.”

I brought in church elders and pastors. My pastor told me I didn’t consult him when I was cheating, so he couldn’t speak on my behalf. Everything came crumbling down on me, and even the people I thought would help left me to suffer.

It’s been nine months now, and my wife still hasn’t come back. We talk. It’s better than before, but it’s nowhere near as good as when we were together.

Just a week ago, I was in a taxi when it stopped to pick someone up. I was on my phone typing, so I didn’t see the person until she sat down and mentioned my name.

“Emma! Is that you? Oh, so you’re still alive?”

Mavis.

She cried. I got out of the taxi with her to explain myself, but she said, “I’ve left you in the hands of God. He saw my pain, and He knew I didn’t do anything wrong. But know that you won’t go scot-free. All the pain I went through will manifest somewhere in your life. Trust me.”

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

Curses upon curses but I was happy she got the closure she deserved. It only meant I could now focus fully on seeing whether I could put my marriage back into recovery mode.

Cheating is worthless. If you love someone enough to commit to her before God, stay committed. Cheating only comes to destroy what you’ve spent years building. I know you won’t listen until it’s your turn to go through what I’m going through.

—Emma

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