We dated for three years, me and Mabel. Her parents knew about our relationship, and my parents also knew her as the woman I was dating. Initially, when my parents found out about us, they warned me to stay away from her. Their reasons were based on tribal stereotypes. I ignored them, thinking that one day they would come to accept that she was the woman I loved.

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Her parents didn’t say anything about our relationship at first. They treated me well whenever I visited. Maybe they thought the relationship wouldn’t amount to anything until we expressed our intention to get married. We faced objections from both her family and mine, but we persisted until, much later, we decided it wasn’t worth it since they wouldn’t allow us to marry.

We broke up. She started a new relationship, and I later started one too, but we couldn’t let each other go. I became the man she cheated with, and she became the woman I cheated with. We would laugh about our partners while cheating on them. Whenever we were together, we knew we were meant for each other. The feelings were so strong that no matter how much we tried to stay apart, we kept finding our way back to each other.

Later, my relationship with my new partner broke down. She found out about me and Mabel, but that wasn’t what eventually ended our relationship. It was neglect and emotional disconnection. She saw it before I did. When she told me it was over, I wondered when we had even started drifting apart.

I told Mabel, “Talk to your parents one last time, and I’ll do the same. Maybe this time they’ll give us their blessing.”

Her dad, on hearing my name, placed a curse on our relationship and swore in their dialect that if we chose to disobey them, we would reap nothing but bitter fruit from our marriage. Her mom asked her, “What’s in him that you can’t find in another man?”

She came back looking defeated, especially after I told her what my dad had said—that even his ghost would fight against our marriage if we got married over his dead body. She went back to Maxwell, the man she was dating. I went back to heartbreak because I had no one.

We broke up again, and this time we called it the final breakup. We stayed apart for six months. When she contacted me again, she told me she was getting married to Maxwell. If I thought I had moved on, that day reminded me that love, no matter how long you ignore it, doesn’t disappear. It may seem to fade, but a simple hello can bring all its colors back to life.

So we started again. This time, it was intense, as though we were trying our hardest to destroy her plans to get married. I would call her in the middle of the night, hoping Maxwell would see my calls and get angry. I was planting seeds of discord, but it didn’t work. They continued with their plans until, a few weeks before the wedding, she sent me a photo that turned my world upside down.

She sent me a photo of a pregnancy test showing two red lines.

I asked, “Who’s responsible for this?”

She answered, “It could be you. It could be him. Either way, I’m keeping it.”

I claimed responsibility and told her not to go ahead with the wedding.

She said she couldn’t.

I asked, “What if I show up with this evidence and destroy everything?”

She answered, “I’ll wait for you. Show up if you can, and let’s see what happens.”

I’d never seen two people so determined to destroy their own lives as we were.

After that call, I didn’t hear from her again. I texted. I called at odd hours. She ignored all my calls. I knew she wasn’t angry with me. She was protecting her peace in the days leading up to the wedding.

She went ahead and got married, and just a week later, she relocated with her husband.

All I was left with was heartache that I knew would take a very long time to heal. She blocked me after the wedding. I had accepted defeat, so I didn’t bother trying to pursue her anymore. But every morning when I woke up, I reminded myself that she was carrying my baby. I made it part of my reality that I had a child with her, so wherever she went, a part of me went with her.

She gave birth and sent me photos without saying a word. I looked at the baby and instantly felt she was mine. I didn’t reply. I wanted her to think I’d moved on and that she no longer mattered in the grand scheme of my life.

Days later, she sent me a message asking when I would like to do a DNA test.

I responded, “I don’t want to know. Even if you do it, whether the child is mine or not, I still don’t want to know. I’m happy with what I already believe. Keep the rest.”

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

The baby celebrated her second birthday today as I write this story. I whispered a happy birthday into the skies. I’m counting the years, but I’m not counting on ever going back to claim her.

Never.

I’ve blocked Mabel on every platform. If I hear her voice from another number, I’ll block that one too. She has found herself. It’s now my turn to find myself and let the past remain in the past.

—Daddy Jay

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