When we met, sparks flew. It was love at first sight, but patience told me to allow things to grow naturally. By the end of the day, he took my number, and I took his. I was expecting his call that evening, but it didn’t come. He didn’t text either. He left me thinking, “Does he not like me? Did he even find me beautiful?”

I tried texting, but then again, patience whispered that I shouldn’t be desperate. Two days later, when he still didn’t call or text, I pushed him a little bit down in my mind as someone who didn’t deserve me. That very evening, I saw his call on my phone. Suddenly, sparks flew again, and I was back in love with him.

The conversation didn’t last long, but he asked what I was doing over the weekend. I told him I had nothing going on. He asked, “Let’s meet then, or? We can hang out somewhere and talk.”

That was the first of many dates that followed. For a whole month, every day was a date for us. When we didn’t meet after work, we stayed on the phone all night. When we met and had fun, we came back home and continued talking on the phone. We slept late every night, even though we knew we had work the next day. It didn’t matter.

One evening in an Uber coming home, he threw his arm around my waist and pulled me close to his side. I put my head on his shoulder, breathing quietly and waiting for what he would say next. We remained like that until we got to my place. I thought he would come out of the car and spend the night, but that didn’t happen. He waved good night and left with the driver.

I went to his place for the first time because he said, “I have something to tell you.”

I went there with an open heart and a mouth ready to say yes to his proposal because what else would a guy have to say when he invites you over?

He sat me down in the hall and asked what I would eat or drink. I loved the fragrance of the house. What was missing was my presence to make it a home. I didn’t ask for much. I told him, “I’m ready. You said you had something to tell me.”

He sat quietly for a while and then said, “I don’t know why God made it this way, that we can still love another even when our hearts are fully committed.”

My heart seized. “What is he saying? Whose heart is committed?”

He continued, “Esi is coming home tomorrow. Our wedding is next month.”

As if I should know who Esi was. As if I should simply understand what he was saying. Though it hurt, I congratulated him and asked what he wanted me to do. He went on and on about the way he felt about me, how he wished he had met me earlier, and how he had loved me since we met.

I didn’t say much. I told him to extend my greetings to her when she comes.

I went home with a heavy heart but felt joyful that he told me the truth and didn’t take advantage of my feelings for him. I wanted to block him, but I didn’t. I wanted to text him and tell him to stay away from me, but I didn’t. I gave him grace for the man he was to me.

I met his fiancée once before their wedding—a beautiful woman with poise and grace in her stride. I was at their wedding too. I took photos and left. After their wedding, he called to say thank you. I responded, “You should be on your honeymoon. Why are you on the phone with me?”

He responded, “Something is missing, and that’s you. I wish it was you I married.”

I told him not to disrespect his wife. “Would you be happy if you heard your wife saying this to another man? I thought you were different.” He answered, “I’m only telling you how I feel.”

I regretted not blocking him the first time, but this time, I did. I lost, and I knew it. It didn’t mean I should pick up the crumbs and call it half a loaf.

I Accepted His Proposal When I Hadn’t Met Him Physically


You might think he’d stop coming, but he didn’t. He came to my home. I didn’t let him in. He came again; I didn’t come out to see his face. He texted with his second number: “I just want to be a friend. No malice intended.” I didn’t reply.

He stopped coming. I stopped thinking about everything that happened because it hurt. I opened my heart wide for good things to come my way, and I know they will. Very soon.

— Efe

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at submissions@silentbeads.com. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******