This is something nobody knows except my junior sister. I’ve perfected the art of hiding it all these years because I don’t know how the world will see me when they get to know about it. I told my junior sister about it the night before the traditional wedding because she caught me crying. I could have lied to her but that girl has always been the one I share my secret with. She’ll listen to me and then tell me something crazy so we laugh. I can tell her I killed someone and she would tell me, “Give me a minute, I’m looking for the softest spot to dig so we can bury him at dawn.” She has been my backbone whenever I needed help to sit up. 

She asked me, “Is the pregnancy bothering you? You’re worried about what people will say when they get to know that you got married because you were pregnant?” I looked at her through teary eyes and responded, “Far from that. People will always say something so what they’ll say doesn’t bother me. What bothers me right now is what my heart is telling me. I don’t love him. I’ve tried but I don’t see myself ever loving him.” 

She told me, “I can tell everyone that the marriage isn’t coming on so they shouldn’t waste their time being here tomorrow. I can call them, I can text them or you want me to make a Facebook post?” I told her, “Don’t worry. I will be fine. I’m carrying his child. Maybe when the child comes, it will bring the magic that will cement our love. Let’s see. Things might change. I want to believe that.” 

The following day, we got married. It was a traditional wedding. The idea was to go to court later and sign the official marriage documents. That never happened. Each time he brought it up, I told him, “We’ve done the most important thing. The signing can wait, maybe after the baby is delivered we can do it. We have a lot of time ahead to do that.” 

He’s Charles. We go to church together. He wasn’t someone I was free with. He’s ten years older than me and belonged to the elite members of the church. He wasn’t someone you can chat or gossip with after church. You can’t go to him and gossip about the awkward shoes the pastor wore during the service or even complain about the short dress the pastor’s wife wore to church. He was just there. I saw him often because he was a member of the church and he came to church often. 

I went to the passport office one day and I saw him there. The queue was long, my time was short so when I found him there, I decided to ask for help from him. He helped. He took me by the hand and walked me from one office to the other until I completed the process. He took my number and told me I should leave the rest for him. I needed the passport urgently so I called him often to follow up. He promised that I would have it within five days but five days later, I still didn’t have it. It took me two weeks to get it, by then we had built some sort of relationship. We were talking often on the phone and meeting every now and then. After church, we went home together. 

One day he proposed and I said no. He told me, “I love you for real and I’m not here to deceive you. Even if it’s a marriage you want, we can get married as soon as possible.” He wasn’t a bad person but I just didn’t like his vibe. We were ordinary when we were together. There wasn’t a moment I would look back to and say “Yeaaa, he brought the spark here and there.” There was nothing. He was kind to me regardless. When he couldn’t reach me on the phone and I told him my phone was giving me issues, he bought me a new phone a week later. I didn’t ask for anything from him but he was always ready to give me something. Every gift he gave me was spot on. Sometimes it was exactly what I needed at the moment.

So when he pushed for me to accept his proposal, I told him, “I said no at first but I think if you give me enough time to think about it, something good may come out of it.” 

I went to his place often to cook for him or do anything he wanted me to do for him. He would talk about his proposal and I’ll continue to ask him for more time. One day, I was in his kitchen cooking when he reached out to kiss me. I kissed back. I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed but then he kept pushing for the ultimate. At first, I gave him the impression that I wouldn’t like to go that far with him but he kept pushing for it until I obliged. I was doing it not because I loved him but because I felt he had been kind to me and I could repay him with what he also wanted from me. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t passion, it wasn’t any extraordinary feeling that pushed me to have shuperu with him that day. It was just a feeling of paying back his kindness. 

But that once was enough to get me pregnant. 

I hadn’t said yes to his proposal but I was carrying his baby. The pregnancy was sneaky. I got no signs or symptoms. Or maybe I underestimated it. For two months I missed my period and I didn’t bother. I was confident it would come. I’d even forgotten that at some point I had shuperu with him. When it finally dawned on me, I rushed to get a test kit. My fear was confirmed. When I saw the red stripes I screamed, “Chai, matter don come oooo. How? I mean how is that possible?” I was even ashamed when I was picking up the phone to tell him about the pregnancy. I thought he won’t believe me. I felt he might think I’m bringing my boyfriend’s pregnancy to him. 

“Charles, I checked today and I’m…I mean it was delaying, you know, after the distin, it delayed so I had no option but to check. I checked…I checked and, and…I just check and it is positive.”

“You mean you’re pregnant? Are you serious?” 

“It’s OK if you don’t believe me, you don’t have to worry, I’ll handle it.” 

By the time I realized he was in my house; “No you won’t handle it. We are going to handle it with care and love until you deliver. You won’t do anything about it. This is God’s gift. We need to protect it and not destroy it.” 

His enthusiasm was what shocked me. He was happy. He was even glowing with good vibes as he was claiming ownership of the pregnancy. I told him it will complicate our lives but he wouldn’t listen. I told him the church will scorn us but he didn’t care. I told him I wasn’t ready to be a mother and he went down on his knees, “Please don’t say that. God won’t give you what you’re not ready for. His gifts are always tailor-made to suit our circumstances. We can get married before things begin to show. Something small to make us official and then take it from there.” 

When I told him I wasn’t ready to marry, he cared less. All he wanted was for us to settle down because of the pregnancy. I told my parents about it and they also saw the sense in what Charles was saying so they gave us the green light to get married. We went ahead and got married but my heart was empty. For so long I saw him as a stranger invading my space than the man I’d married. I had a very tough pregnancy. For so many nights I couldn’t sleep. I would lay awake sweating and restless while he would lie by my side snoring. God, I hated him for that. I blamed him whenever I was in pain and I loved him less whenever I was in distress due to the pregnancy.

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I gave birth to a boy and the boy looks exactly like him. The love I thought our child would bring never happened. He’s three years now and I still feel no love for my husband. Sometimes, I go to the bathroom and cry. I feel like I’m wasting my life making him happy while I’m lonely and sad. He got what he wanted, me. What about what I want? We don’t fight as a couple but there’s always this internal battle I’m fighting with myself. It’s the reason I’ve never gone with him to the court to sign the official marriage documents. I feel it would be easier for me when one day I gather the courage and decide to leave. He asks about it and I keep telling him it’s not important. He believes he has what he wants, I’m the one who’s losing in all of this.

My junior sister will call every now and then and give me tips on what to do to love my husband. My answer has always been, “I can’t love him no matter how hard I try. He’s not even a friend. We are both trapped in this thing we call marriage because we believe it’s the best thing for our child.” 

I don’t even know what I want from sharing this story. I’m not asking for advice and I’m not sharing anything inspirational. Maybe I needed someone else to know what I’m going through. Or I’m just looking for a place to rant. I don’t know but I know that when this story is shared and I read comments from people, I will feel heard. Even when the comments go against me, I’ll feel that at least someone heard me and felt I was being stupid. 

I don’t know how long I can continue with this just for the sake of our kid but I know a time will come when I will just get up and leave. My happiness matters. Marrying who I love is equally important for me in this journey I call life. 

–Peace

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