If you haven’t read the first part of this story, here’s the link. Kindly read it before starting this one.

One morning, my mom told me, “Ahmed’s son will be here this evening. You better be home so he sees you.” I knew what that meant but I asked her, “Is he coming here because of me?” She said, “Not necessary because of you but when he comes around he might love to talk to you.” It didn’t make any sense but I knew what she meant when she said, “He might love to talk to you.” This is a man I didn’t know. I’ve heard my mom and dad talk about him. They don’t even call him by his name. To them, he’s known as “Ahmed’s son.” Ahmed’s son because without his father, he’s a nobody.

That evening he came around. I heard footsteps and voices. I looked through the window and saw his face. “He’s a nice guy though,” I said to myself. For close to an hour, he stayed in the room with my parents. They were wasting my time. I needed to go somewhere. So when I waited for a while and they were not calling me, I walked to the hall. I went to the fridge to pick water. Just when I was about to turn, my dad said, “That’s Samira, haven’t you seen her?” Ahmed’s son responded, “Is that your daughter? She’s grown too fast.” That made me wonder, “How old is he that he’s talking about me growing too fast?”

He signaled me to come.  Right in front  of my parents, he said, “Turn around and let me see something.” I liked him when I first saw him. The moment he asked me to turn around, the like dropped from a hundred to zero. Turn around so he could see all aspects of me and determine whether or not I’m worth his love. I don’t like visual people. People who love you just because of the way you look. I turned around for him. All he said was “Wow, I can’t believe she had grown this fast.” 

He took my number and gave me his number. He said, “I will give you a call. Do you know where I live? You can come around any time you want.” I looked at my father’s face. He was smiling. I looked at my mother’s face. She looked satisfied. I looked inside of myself and the only thing I found there was anger. I didn’t call his number. My mother asked me, “Have you spoken to him since that day?” I said, “Yes. I called to greet him.” Obviously, that was a lie. She said, “Mellow yourself whenever you’re with him. He’s Ahmed’s son. They have good blood and there’s enough wealth in the family. If you play your cards well, you might get lucky with him.”

I asked my mom, “What does he do and why is he not married, looking at his wealth and age?” She said, “Who said he’s not married? He’s married with four kids. He looks young because he has taken good care of himself.” I said, “He’s married? So what should I do with him?” She said, “He’s a man. He has the means so he can marry more. Being a second wife isn’t a bad thing if the man has the means.” I said, “No I don’t want a man who is married. I want my own man.” She thought I was getting crazy. I thought she wasn’t getting what I was saying.

When I met Ben I told him about it. “They want me to become a second wife ooo.” He said, “You see life? Someone’s first choice is becoming another man’s second choice. Why would your parents do that to you?” Again we had a lengthy conversation about our future. There was nothing new to talk about. My parents didn’t want a marriage between us. His parents want him to stop talking to me. As a matter of fact, we were hiding. I couldn’t visit him in the house and he couldn’t visit me in the house. 

I found myself getting closer to a guy of the same faith. My parents had nothing to do with it so I decided to give myself a little bit of time, monitor him, and see if he could be good husband material. I didn’t like him at first but I felt like he was my only gateway to freedom. Freedom from the relationship with Ben and also freedom from the incessant nagging of my parents. It got to a point where I realized the guy was getting closer to my heart. I told Ben about it. I lied about the details so he wouldn’t feel bad about it. I said, “My parents have brought another one.” He asked, “How many wives this time?” I said, “No, this one doesn’t have a wife. He’s a young man just like you.” He asked me, “Do you like him?” I said, “Looking at the pressure from my parents, I have no option than to allow him in my life.”

He sighed heavily. He asked, “So what happens to us?” I said, “You tell me because I’m not ready to cheat on you both.” I saw him getting angry. He was trying so hard to hide it but it showed in his voice. He said, “You like this one and it shows in the way you talk about him. I don’t have anything to tell you. Go ahead with him. I will also find another person.” Then he started walking away. I called him several times he didn’t mind me. Even when I texted him, he didn’t respond. For a whole week, I couldn’t hear from him. I was getting desperate. I sent him a text; “If you don’t respond to this one, be ready to see me in your house this evening.”

He texted back, ”What do you want from me? Go ahead with him. I’m not angry. No matter what we do we can’t go on so just go ahead with him.” “If you’re not angry then why are you not talking to me?” I asked. “He said, “It’s of no use. Go ahead and leave me alone.” For close to a month, we were not talking to each other. He’ll watch my status and still say nothing. One day, I blocked him but the block didn’t last for a day. On one end, I was ok that whatever existed between us was slowly dying on the other end, I wasn’t going through pain that it was dying.  

Somewhere in June this year, I called him. I told him, “I want to see you.” He asked, “For what?” I said, “This is not the kind of end we deserve. We’ve been through a lot. If it has to end, it has to end on a good note. I don’t like the bitter way the whole thing is going.” We talked about it for so long. We agreed to meet one last time. We were supposed to meet in town but he said, “Come home.” I asked, “How about your parents, they won’t have a problem with that?” He said, “Just come. We’ll be fine.”

I sneaked into his house around 10pm when his parents were in their rooms. All night we didn’t sleep. It was supposed to be our last night together so we did everything to make it worth it. I went home fulfilled, knowing that he was no longer angry with me. 

I missed my period. I told him about it. He said, “Don’t worry, it will come.” A week later, I checked. I was pregnant. I told him about it. He asked, “You haven’t slept with him before?” I said, “I told you I was studying him. I haven’t slept with him.” He said, ”Let’s meet after work.”

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When he saw me he said, “So what do we do?” I said, “That’s the reason why I’m here. If I knew what to do, I wouldn’t have been here.” He said, “Let’s get rid of it.” I said, “Just like that? Can’t we think about any other option? At least we should use this as an advantage. If I tell my parents that I’m pregnant for you, they might soften their stands. They’ll be angry but they can’t kill me. Why don’t you also try the same thing with your parents?” He said, “if we force them to accept what they didn’t accept willingly, we’ll live to regret it in the future. I know my parents. They’ll never like you and won’t accept the child wholly. Don’t let us push it.”

I knew my parents will do the same too but I was willing to try. I told my mom, “A friend of mine is pregnant for her Christian boyfriend. Her parents warned her to stay away but she didn’t listen.” She asked me, “So what are the parents doing now?” I said, ”They’ve sacked her from the house. Now she’s living with a friend.” My mom said, “She’s still their daughter no matter what. The best they could have done was to ‘take care’ of the pregnancy right from the onset.” 

My heart started beating faster. I didn’t even try that trick on my father before concluding. I asked Ben, “Where should we go to?” 

He gave me the money. Two days later, it was done. It broke my heart. I cried for days. It made me bitter—bitter about myself and bitter about the whole situation. I told myself, ”This is the real end. I can’t continue to suffer for something that can’t grow into anything. I thought Ben will call and ask how everything went but he never called until several days later. I told him, “I’m ok. It’s done. I’m fine now.” He said, “Great to know that you’re fine.” After that, he didn’t have anything to say. He kept breathing through the phone. I said, “Anyway, have a great day.” 

He has never called again since then. He has moved on, I presume. Sharing this story will be the last time I talk about him. I’ve moved on too. 

—Samira