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

One day her mother called to say that she wanted to see me. I didn’t want to go, but she’s elderly and I needed to give her that respect. So one morning, I took a bus and traveled to meet her. When I got there, there were four people seated and waiting for me: the mother, the father, my ex-girlfriend herself, and another man I hadn’t met before. He introduced himself as the uncle and also the chief of their village.

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The uncle took over the conversation and started pleading with me that whatever had happened should be forgiven because of the child growing in her; “So she would also have the peace of mind to carry the child to term and also deliver peacefully.”

From the way the man spoke, I realized he didn’t know the details of the story. He had been invited to plead a case he didn’t have full knowledge of. I asked, “Which part of the story should I forgive? And what do you seek to gain from my forgiveness, so I will go ahead and marry her?”

Her mother took over from there; “You know my stand already. I don’t want to go into details to bore everyone here. The marriage is very important. This child should come to meet a home and not a broken one.” I responded, “When the child comes and it’s mine, it will meet a father who’s ever ready to go high and low to provide, to care and ensure safety. If it’s not mine, you know I can’t do anything.”

The uncle retorted, “What do you mean if it’s not yours? Who could it be from if it’s not yours?”

I was about to spill the whole story when her mother cut me off to make the issues short. The uncle shouted, “Why have you brought me here to resolve a case but won’t allow me to do my job? If you could handle it yourself then why did you invite me?”

Everyone went quiet. Then I realized the level of respect and fear the man wielded. I took my time and explained everything to him, ensuring I didn’t miss any of the details. He was stunned. He turned to my ex-girlfriend and asked, “Is what he’s saying the truth?” She was quiet. He asked again, “Is he telling the truth?”

She responded nasally, “Everything he said is not the truth. Some of it is false.” The man asked, “Is it true you wanted to give the pregnancy to other men?” She responded, “Uncle, I was only playing with those men.”

The man got up angrily and warned the mother, “Next time you call me and it’s about a nonsensical issue like this, you’ll have me to contend with. If this man here was your son, would you agree for him to marry a woman who did this to him?”

The man walked away, leaving the rest of us there. Her father turned to his wife and said, “You see where you’ve brought us? You said you wouldn’t listen.” He too got up and left, but before leaving he apologized to me and wished me a safe journey back home.

When I got up, my ex asked, “Won’t you give me any money? I’m carrying your child regardless of everything.”

Because they couldn’t get me to agree to take her back, she started treating me like an enemy and acted entitled as though I owed her everything. She would call me and say things like, “You won’t send money this month? You want me to carry your baby and also starve?”

I would send her something and she would still call and fight me, saying it was too small or I should add more for something else. She would call to say that she was sick. She would send me fake hospital receipts and ask me to pay. Some I paid. Others I contested, and it turned into a fight. She told me one day she would run away with the baby and I would never get to see her when she’s born.

I called her bluff.

I didn’t hear from her for over a month. That length of silence was suspicious. I checked the calendar and thought, had she given birth? She didn’t pick up my calls. Her mother also didn’t answer my calls. For days I couldn’t sit still. I even had a dream she had a baby and the baby looked exactly like me.

One Saturday morning I took a bus and traveled to her place. The baby was almost two weeks old and I didn’t know about it. When I queried her, she said, “Do you care?”

She didn’t even want me to see the baby. Had it not been for the intervention of her dad, I would have been prevented from seeing the baby. I held her in my arms. It felt right but didn’t erase my doubt. Her mom kept telling me, “See her forehead, exactly like yours. Look at her toenails. You still believe she’s not yours?”

I spent three days in town to be with them and also look around for facilities that could do a DNA test for me. Finally, a friend showed me a place and I contacted them. They were even ready to come home to take samples, but when the time came, my ex said no; “At this point I won’t force you to accept her as your child. If you don’t believe me, you can go in peace and not look back again.”

I love men who have authority and who exercise it when it matters the most. Her dad roared once and shook the foundation of the house, making everyone shiver. He told me, “Come when you’re ready.”

The longest moment of my life will forever be when I was waiting for the DNA result. I played a lot of scenarios in my head;
“If she’s mine, what will I do?”
“She’s beautiful. I think she’s mine. Why am I wasting money on DNA?”
“If she’s not mine, I swear I will make her pay back every dime I’ve spent on her.”

Frankly speaking, seeing the baby changed my heart a little. She’s adorable. I felt connected. I felt like a father without being told I was one. I called my elder brother, who knew the story from the beginning, and told him, “I think the baby is mine. Come and see her forehead.”

When I sent him a photo, he replied, “How are you able to see your forehead in this tiny baby?”

The results came and the paternity probability was “Not Possible,” meaning I was not the father. I should have been happy, right?

Wrong!

A piece of me was broken, as if I was finding out about her infidelity for the first time. I held the result like a travel visa. Everyone was quiet. Her dad said, “You’re a good man. Even the angels will forgive your sins if any. We’ll take it from here.”

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On the bus coming back home, I slept like a baby. I felt lighter, like an elephant’s leg had been lifted off my chest. I couldn’t laugh or be sad. I was hanging in there. The story was so heavy that I was wondering how the baby would take it when she grows up and is told.

Weeks later, I still think about them. I sent her money for no reason at all. She texted; “Thank you. I’m really sorry about everything.”

—Baffour

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