I had closed from work one day and was standing by the roadside waiting for a car when one stopped right next to me. When the window rolled down, I saw the face of my colleague, Agatha. She was in the front passenger seat, with a man in the driver’s seat. She asked where I was headed, and I told her.

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She said, “Hop in. We’ll drop you off close to your home.” I got in, and she introduced me to the man as her colleague. She mentioned that his name was Enoch and told me he was her boyfriend. Enoch looked at me through the rearview mirror and acknowledged me.

They did all the talking on the way while I kept myself busy on my phone. When I got out of the car, I thanked them and went my way. Agatha wasn’t a colleague I was particularly close to. Whenever we met, we exchanged greetings or had a brief conversation, and that was all. We didn’t have any special relationship beyond being colleagues.

Several months later, they gave me a lift again, just as they had the first time. This time, they took me to the mall because they had some shopping to do. I waited for them in the car, and when they returned, Enoch gave me a can of Coke and apologized for taking up my time. I smiled and thanked them.

I got out of the car, thanked them again, and went on my way. That was the last time they ever gave me a lift. I never asked Agatha any questions about Enoch or about their relationship. More than a year later, I bumped into Enoch at a program. I sat next to him long before either of us realized we knew each other. That day, he asked for my number after I jokingly asked him when he was coming to pick up Agatha again so I could join them.

He said, “Long story, but give me your number. I’ll call you, and we’ll talk.”

He called a few days later and told me about the pain he went through after walking in on Agatha with another man in a room he had helped rent for her. He said he had needed therapy before he could begin to heal properly. According to him, they had even been discussing marriage when it happened.

He made jokes about it, and we laughed, but I was shocked that Agatha had been able to do something like that. When I went to the office and saw Agatha, I mentioned that I had met Enoch.

She suddenly became excited.

“Where? Did you talk to him about me?”

I shook my head, and she told me they were no longer together.

Feigning surprise, I asked, “Oh, what happened?”

She answered, “It’s a long story. I don’t want to reopen old wounds.”

We left it there and never talked about Enoch again.

But Enoch continued calling. He suggested going on dates, but I kept turning him down. He wasn’t the kind of man to accept no for an answer, so one day I finally agreed to go out with him. I sat in the seat that had once belonged to Agatha, and it felt strange.

After the date, while he was driving me home, he proposed to me. I laughed. He said he was serious. I told him he couldn’t be serious.

“How would Agatha think of me when she gets to know this? Naaa, this can’t work.”

Over the following weeks, he kept calling and explaining himself. He said a woman who cheated on him and broke his heart had no right to question where he chose to go next.

I answered, “She won’t question you, but she’ll question me. She did me a favor. It was through her kindness that I met you. Why do you want me to be the one who looks evil here?”

But one night, after several months of Enoch pursuing me, I put everything into perspective and told myself, “It’s not for nothing that we met the way we did. Why did I meet him again at that program? Of all the people who attended, why did I end up sitting next to only him?”

Finding love is not a straight line. Sometimes it comes with casualties, but that doesn’t stop it from being love. So I accepted his proposal on one condition: that he would never do anything that would allow Agatha to find out I was the one he was dating. I asked him never to post me on social media. I told him that if he still had Agatha’s number, he should delete it so he wouldn’t accidentally do anything that would expose us.

We dated for a year and then decided to get married. By then, I’d lost all fear and doubt. I’d never had a man love me the way Enoch did. He doesn’t know how to hold back when he loves. Just one month with him made me understand why he ended up in therapy after Agatha left him. It wasn’t only about the heartbreak or the way he found out. It was more about who he is as a person.

He doesn’t test the waters with one foot before stepping in. He jumps in and swims away, never fearing the alligators or snakes that might be in the water.

Agatha found out about us when we sent out our wedding invitations. I wasn’t in her office when it happened, but those who were there rushed to me and asked what I had done to Agatha because she had nearly collapsed after learning about our marriage.

I simply laughed off their questions.

That same day, she confronted me.

“Wow, this isn’t only shocking but devastating. How did this happen? We gave you a lift just twice, and today you’re marrying him? Oh, so he was cheating on me all the while we were dating?”

I listened to her rant, with tears in her eyes and anger on her lips. When she was done, I told her, “I don’t want to go into what happened between the two of you, just as you didn’t give me any details when you told me it was a long story. I know the story. Even then, it was still hard for me to say yes to him. We are getting married, but that has nothing to do with you. I didn’t betray you, and I didn’t hurt you in any way.”

The very next day, it was all over the office that I’d stolen her boyfriend from her. But I respected Enoch’s heartbreak too much to explain what she had done to him.

We got married anyway and returned to work as Mr. and Mrs. I didn’t seek to rub it in her face, but Agatha has hated me ever since. We avoid each other, and that’s fine.

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She was promoted recently and has become my direct boss. Everyone says I should resign, but I tell them, “If you’re looking for strength and resilience, and you meet me, you’ve found exactly what you’re looking for.”

I may resign someday, but it won’t be because I’m afraid of Agatha. What can she do to me if I don’t do anything wrong? I’m loved at home, and that love shields me from all the hate she can throw my way.

—Dorinda

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