Adjoa had been my closest friend since university. She was the one who knew every detail of my life, the person who stayed on the phone with me through heartbreaks and career frustrations. When I told her I had finally met a man who felt different, she insisted on meeting him immediately.

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That was how she met Daniel.

They got along instantly. Daniel always said he admired people who spoke honestly, and Adjoa had never learned how to soften her opinions for anyone. Sometimes they even teased each other the way siblings do. Watching them talk made me feel comfortable, like the two most important people in my life understood each other.

So when it came time to choose a Maid of Honor for the wedding, there was never a question.

It had to be Adjoa.

She helped me plan everything. She attended meetings with the decorator, argued with the caterer about charges, and kept reminding everyone who cared to know that she was the boss of my wedding. Along the line, something changed. It was subtle, but I could sense it. Adjoa gave excuses when she didn’t have any reason to. When I needed her to go somewhere with me, she found reasons from under the rock not to go with me. I told Daniel about it, and he said something like, “It’s normal. People don’t get to have a happy day every day.”

It was just around that time I noticed Daniel was also sliding into silence. He talked less and nodded to everything I said. Even when I expected him to say no or challenge my ideas, he said yes. Daniel had never been a yes man, so that got me worried. I probed. I even texted Adjoa to tell her I wasn’t seeing Daniel very well.

I felt lost. The two most important people in my life were slowly abandoning the ship, leaving me alone to find my way across the stormy seas. I sat with Daniel to talk about his new behavior. I sat with Adjoa to discuss what was wrong with her. She said she was okay and then added, “I don’t think I will be available to serve as your maid of honor. I’ve spoken to Frances. She’s willing to replace me.”

If I had the slightest chance to believe all was well, that day made me feel that indeed all was not well. I even cried. She said she would be traveling a week before the wedding. It was about her work. I knew Adjoa. She would never allow anything to come between my wedding and her, and everything was happening too fast. I told her, “Maybe you’re not ready to talk about it now, but whenever you’re ready, I will be ready.”

Three days to the wedding, I was still hoping Adjoa would call and scream, “Shame, it was all a prank.” Yes, she wasn’t in town, but when I finished dressing up and was walking out, I hoped I would see her outside, dressed up in her maid-of-honor attire waiting to hug me. None of that happened.

The wedding itself felt like a beautiful blur. The ceremony was perfect, the music was loud, and the hall was full of people celebrating a future that looked certain.

By the time the reception started, I was already exhausted but happy, and at the same time missing Adjoa. I saw her in many people, but she herself wasn’t there. When someone said something funny, I was like, “Adjoa would have said something worse.”

After the wedding, I waited all night to see her call or even send a message to say, “Congratulations, dear.” But that didn’t happen.

We went on a honeymoon, came back, and moved in to begin our lives. By that time, I had accepted that something was wrong, but Adjoa wasn’t ready to talk about it. I even concluded that she was envious of me for getting married. Yes, it didn’t sound probable, but it felt good to make up something to fill the hole.

Then a few weeks after the wedding, Daniel’s phone rang and I saw Adjoa’s photo. That setting on the iPhone that shows your photo on the screen of the person you’re calling. I quickly picked up the phone and she screamed, “Why are you not picking my calls? You think I’m going to stay silent forever?”

I spoke softly, “Adjoa, it’s me.”

She was like, “Oh sorry, I didn’t know. Someone got me frustrated. Sorry. How are you?”

She hadn’t called me for a very long time, but she was calling Daniel and shouting about why he wasn’t picking up her calls? “What’s she silent about?” I asked myself.

When Daniel entered and I said Adjoa called, his demeanor changed immediately. He acted like a fish out of water. “What did she say? Why was she calling?”

I responded, “Nothing. I think she wanted to talk to you.”

Mom didn’t raise a fool, so I set out digging. His phone had passwords, so I knew I wasn’t going to get access to it. I went to Adjoa’s place and she was also acting jittery. I asked her to be honest with me, but she looked into my eyes and said nothing was going on. It was her younger sister who told me Adjoa had been acting weird since she got pregnant.

That was my aha moment.

I told Daniel, “Adjoa says you got her pregnant. Please say it’s not true.”

He hesitated and then stopped saying what he was about to say. I said, “Go on, just explain and I will understand. Shit happens, right?”

“I was going to tell you. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I loved you too much. I didn’t want to hurt you with the news.”

Before he could finish, I saw Adjoa’s call on his phone. I asked him to pick up, but he cut it instead. He was going up and down trying to calm me down. I was like a mad woman. I didn’t know where to turn or who to call. Out of frustration, I called Adjoa’s ex. Daniel snatched the phone from me before I could say a word. My heart was jumping up and down. I felt the depth of pain I never knew existed.

Even writing this much detail is killing me. I should have known the day Adjoa called me lucky for being able to land men who have money and spend on me. I should have suspected their closeness and the ease with which they acted around each other. The fault is from me. I allowed it to happen, but what’s life without some lessons?

It’s Not God’s Law For A Man To Apologize To A Woman

We are separated, waiting for the right time to divorce. Adjoa is heavily pregnant now, but the heaviest thing she’s carrying is shame and dishonor, though she seems not to care. Daniel is not in the country now. We talk just fine, almost like friends do. I’ve realized I have to forgive everyone involved to have a worry-free life, and that’s exactly what I’m doing now.

—Ann

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