I was seventeen years old when I met the father of my kids. Peter was loving and caring towards me in a way no one could deny. My family didn’t question his intentions. They could see for themselves that I meant the world to him. That’s why they didn’t make a fuss when I got pregnant with our first child. He assured them he would marry me as soon as he was ready. They agreed.

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While we waited for the marriage to happen, I moved in with him. It’s been fifteen years now and we have four children together. Still, no marriage. That’s not my problem though.

I noticed after I moved in with him that he was a womanizer. He worked as a phone dealer so he developed the habit of getting involved with his female customers. We fought about it constantly. He always apologized, and I always forgave him because I loved him.

The day I should have finally walked away was when I found out he had a three-year-old son with one of his women. I was broken. The fact that things were hard for us financially made the news more difficult to swallow.

How could he have another child outside when we were struggling to look after four children? We couldn’t even afford to move into a bigger apartment. We lived in a single room with all the kids. Life was hard but I was striving to make things work with him even though he didn’t do the right thing by marrying me. My parents still didn’t pressure him after so many years because they believed he was a good man.

I was so angry at him that I couldn’t forgive him this time. He begged me to stay but I didn’t listen. I packed my bags and returned to my parents’ house.

We are Fantes. When I went home, my dad advised me not to leave just like that. “After this many children, he must pay your bride price. If not, he has taken you for a fool. Even if you don’t want him anymore, go back so we let him perform the proper marriage rites. After that, you can go ahead and dissolve the marriage.”

I didn’t question my father. I went back to Peter on condition that he would do right by me. My family gave him time to pay my bride price, and he agreed to stick by it.

Peter tried everything to earn my forgiveness. Despite his best efforts, I didn’t trust him anymore. I still harbored some love for him but the spark was gone. Half of me wanted to save the relationship, but the other half was tired—angry and drained. That’s how we were living: love today, resentment tomorrow.

Then came Mother’s Day.

We were home, like every other Sunday. He gave me GHS100 to prepare fufu. Normally, I’d add money to make something special, but my business wasn’t doing well so I decided to cook banku and okro stew instead of pounding fufu. He said it was fine. He went out with our youngest son on his motorbike, came back, and ate.

Later, he stepped out again. I thought he was just sitting outside with the guys. Around 6 p.m., I dozed off. I woke up at 11 p.m. and he still wasn’t back. He wasn’t outside either so I called his phone. I just wanted to know where he went and when he would be home.

The person who picked up was a man, but he wasn’t my man. He didn’t even mince words. No gentleness in his tone.

“Madam, the owner of this phone was involved in a motor accident. He’s dead.”

My world turned black immediately. Everything he said sounded like a nightmare. I kept pinching myself to wake up but sadly, nobody wakes up from reality.

The next day, people came to sympathize with me. Then a woman from our hometown came to tell me she was with him that night. He had invited her out for drinks. While dropping her off, they had an accident. She hurt her leg and decided not to get back on the motorbike.

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“I took a car home but he got back on the bike alone. I am sorry I didn’t stop him from getting on it when I saw that he was that drunk,” she sympathized.

Later, I found out he was having an affair with her. On top of that, he had recently taken the other baby mama to our hometown to introduce her to his family—and they all received her warmly. No one told me.

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Now, I feel like I’ve reached my breaking point. I’m so angry I can’t even cry. I feel betrayed, humiliated, and overwhelmed. And he’s not here to explain, to apologize, or bear the brunt of my anger. He is gone.

I’m left alone with four kids, grief, and so much anger. I don’t even know how to process all of this. Please, pray for me. I feel so alone.

—Maa Adwoa

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