Luke was married when we started dating. Before you start judging me, I didn’t know he was married. He took me to his house, and I could stay for as long as I wanted. At some point, I thought we were married until the truth came out. It was a picture I saw of the two of them. They had a baby between them, with their heads close together, staring into the baby’s eyes.

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I asked questions because the depth of the photo didn’t tell the story of two single people looking at a baby who might not be theirs. He confessed to me that day that he was indeed married. The baby in the photo had died, and it shook the foundations of their marriage. His wife had traveled outside the country and was yet to decide when she was coming back.

He told me he didn’t believe their marriage would survive the distance. It was the reason he had sought comfort in me. I was broken. I had taken him to be my everything and the future of my family life. He begged me not to leave him, and I listened.

We continued dating until, eventually, his wife returned from abroad and their marriage started thriving again. He treated me with respect and care and also provided for me whenever I needed support. I didn’t leave. I became the willing side chick who stayed in the shadow of their marriage.

I was jealous. I was dying inside on the nights I needed him by my side, but he wasn’t there. I talked about leaving him every day, but each day he found a way to bring me back into his arms.

Then his wife got pregnant again. He created such a long distance between us that I felt we were never coming back together. It was during that time that Francis came into my life. I thought I could use him to heal my broken heart and fill the vacuum my married boyfriend had left in my life.

My heart grew fonder of Francis with each passing day. He didn’t take care of me the way Luke did, but he was there through thick and thin, even though he was responsible for some of the thin moments in our lives.

Luke came back sometimes, wanting us to get back together. I said no. By then, I was committed to Francis in what I believed was the healthiest choice. Luke never completely disappeared, but we didn’t get back together or even try to be intimate. Whenever I needed something and told him, he helped me and tried to use that as a way back into my life, but I built healthy boundaries.

When Francis and I were about to get married, I told Luke about it, and he wished me well, though I knew it wasn’t from his heart. We got married, and Francis lost his job and became dependent on me and the little resources I could bring home.

I knew time would vindicate him and that he would get back on his feet again. Then I got pregnant. That was the most difficult period of our lives as a couple. My pregnancy was tough. I spent more time in the hospital than at home, and that drained the little money I had. So one day, I called Luke to help me, and he did.

He even drove all the way from his house to take me to the hospital and brought me back home. From that day, he took it from there. I only had to tell him to jump, and he would ask me how high. He would send me money and call to ask how I was doing. When it was time for delivery and I couldn’t give birth naturally, he was the one who sent the money for my C-section. He sent it through my husband, and my husband never asked me who had sent the money.

From that day on, anytime we hit rock bottom, my husband would tell me, “Why don’t you call Luke? Maybe he’ll send something.” Or when something happened and I found the money to solve the problem, he would ask me, “Did you call Luke?”

I haven’t once told him who Luke is or what kind of relationship we had. He hasn’t asked who Luke is, where I know him from, or even why another man keeps sending me money. That is where my problem lies. Or maybe he knows and is pretending not to know simply because Luke helps us get by.

Where Luke and I are now, I don’t think there will ever be a time we become lovers again. I don’t see him that way anymore, and I believe he doesn’t see me in that light either. I’m very sure of that because, despite everything he has done for me, he has never once brought up our past together or tried to revive old memories.

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My problem now is my husband. He’s currently still unemployed. We have needs he’s not able to meet. I do my best so we don’t always have to depend on anyone for help, but I don’t know if I should tell him about Luke now or just let it go. One day, he’ll get a job. He’ll get back on his feet again and might bring this up in conversation. When men have power, they become different people. Should I tell him while he’s at his lowest? Wouldn’t that break him deeply?

—Keyla 

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