My boyfriend is amazing, and I am genuinely grateful for him. That is the part that makes this whole thing difficult to explain, even to myself. From the very beginning, I knew he was different. We met in church shortly after I moved to the town. I was new, unfamiliar with the place, and still trying to find my footing. That Sunday, he approached me calmly and invited me to join their youth group. There was nothing dramatic about it, just a quiet confidence that made me feel safe. I went home after church, rushed through my chores, and made sure I was early for the meeting. That alone should tell you how interested I already was.

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As the weeks passed, I grew more certain that this was the man I wanted to marry someday. He is tall, calm, very good looking, and deeply rooted in church life. Being around him felt steady. When my rent expired some months later, he mentioned that his father had rooms for rent in their house. I went to inspect the place, liked it immediately, paid, and moved in the following month. We lived in the same house for three months before he officially asked me to be his girlfriend. By then, my heart was already fully involved.

At the time, he was trying to get into the pastoral ministry. He had written the exams and was hopeful he would be selected, but he wasn’t. Because his parents are wealthy, they enrolled him as a private ministerial student instead. I admired his dedication to ministry and the seriousness with which he took his calling. It made me respect him even more and reinforced my belief that this relationship was headed somewhere meaningful.

When we started dating and he said he didn’t want anyone to know, I didn’t see it as a problem. He explained that because of his ministerial background, people in the church would scrutinize me, judge me, and make unnecessary assumptions if they knew we were together. I understood that. Church people can talk, and I was new. I told myself it was temporary and that once things became more settled, we would be open. That was December 2023. Now, three years have passed, and nothing has changed.

Reverend ministers come and go. They see me in church, active and present, and they ask why I am still single. Every time, I smile and dodge the question. Sometimes I laugh it off. Sometimes I feel a sharp pain in my chest. When I tell my boyfriend about the pressure, he tells me not to give in, that everyone already knows him, and that people cannot ruin what they do not know. Only my parents and siblings know I am in a relationship. Even his parents are not fully aware, though I am sure they suspect something. Living in the same house and pretending nothing is going on takes a toll I did not anticipate.

Recently, something happened that shook me deeply. A distant friend of mine enrolled in the same school as my boyfriend. I mentioned it casually, and my boyfriend confirmed that he knew him very well on campus. This friend also believes I am single and has even tried to link me up with someone else. I declined politely, but the situation made me uncomfortable. Then my boyfriend’s birthday came up in conversation. I joked that this friend would finally know about our relationship when I posted my boyfriend on my WhatsApp status to celebrate him.

His reaction changed everything for me. He told me not to do any big posts on my socials. He went further to say that if the guy asked how I knew him, I should say he was just a random preacher who once visited my church. That response scared me. Truly scared me. Hiding our relationship from church members was something I had learned to endure, but asking me to lie to a distant friend of mine, someone outside our church circle, someone on the same campus as him, felt excessive. It felt deliberate. It felt calculated.

That was the moment I realized I was no longer comfortable with his explanations. I am no longer buying the idea that this is all about protection. I am no longer convinced that he is shielding me from scrutiny or gossip. Three years is not a short time. At what point does privacy turn into secrecy? At what point does protection start to look like shame?

What hurts the most is that I love this man. I see a future with him. I imagined marriage, children, and growing old together. I have adjusted myself in ways I never thought I would. I have stayed silent when questioned. I have swallowed my discomfort. I have trusted his intentions over my instincts. And yet, here I am, feeling like a hidden part of his life, like something precious he enjoys privately but does not want acknowledged publicly.

I am tired of overthinking in silence. I am tired of rehearsing excuses in my head for questions I never asked for. I am tired of feeling like I am asking for too much simply because I want to be seen. I do not want grand announcements or public displays for validation. I just want honesty. I want clarity. I want to know if I am being protected or parked.

Sometimes I wonder if there is another life he is guarding me from discovering. Sometimes I wonder if I am just convenient, present, and loyal while he keeps his options open elsewhere. I hate that these thoughts now live in my mind because they were not there in the beginning. They were planted by his actions, not my insecurity.

I have so many questions, but I do not know how to ask them without sounding accusatory or desperate. I am scared of the answers, but I am also scared of continuing like this. Has anyone ever loved someone deeply and still felt invisible? Has anyone ever been hidden for so long that they started questioning their worth?

Marriage Through the Eyes of Millennials and Gen-Z

I know I am not perfect, but I know I do not deserve to be someone’s secret forever. I am standing at a crossroads between patience and self-respect, between hope and reality. All I want is to understand why the man I love is so determined to keep me unseen, and whether staying silent is slowly costing me myself.

—Adomba

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