One early morning, my boyfriend entered my room and started looking around. He looked under the bed, went to the bathroom, removed my clothes from my wardrobe, and all the while kept shouting, “Where is he? Where did you hide him?”

I was lost. “Where is who? I’m here all alone, so what are you talking about?”

He even lifted my mattress to check beneath it and see if I was hiding a man there. I told him a man isn’t the size of bread that I could hide under a mattress.

After searching unsuccessfully for a man who didn’t exist, he asked me, “Who owns the slippers in front of your door?”

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I went to check. They belonged to the next-door neighbour. I think the cleaner moved them and mistakenly placed them in front of my door while she was sweeping the compound. He didn’t buy this explanation.

I was still talking to him about it when the neighbour came to pick them up. I asked, “How about that? You still don’t believe me?”

If I had stepped outside to call my neighbour to come for his slippers, my boyfriend wouldn’t have believed me. But both of us were still talking about it when he came for them.

I thought the case had closed by itself. All I expected was an apology. Instead, he raised many other allegations that questioned my integrity in the relationship. He had been suspecting me for a long time and had been monitoring me.

I told him to keep monitoring me all the days of his life, and he wouldn’t find any dirt on me.

All my life, I’d never dated two men simultaneously. It’s a lot of work that doesn’t pay. The lies you have to tell and the struggle you have to go through to maintain an innocence that doesn’t exist aren’t worth it for me, so I never did it.

I choose my partners carefully and dedicate my time to them as long as we are in love. You can come with all the cars in this world or promise me all the wealth under the sun, and I still will not look your way because my heart can only commit to one man at a time.

Yet, I’d not been lucky in love. I’ll find a prince today, and tomorrow he’ll turn into a frog.

I didn’t know what I did or said for Johnson to doubt me or make him think I was cheating on him. From that day, I was very careful about who I talked to and the men I gave access to. When I met someone new or made new friends, I told him about it.

I expected the same from him, but he never did. I would have to ask him about it before he would find something to tell me.

I was in his bed one night when something pinched me in the rib. It felt like a needle. Sharp and painful.

I ran my hand over the bed, looking for what it was. Then it pinched me again.

I got up, turned on the light, and started searching. He was there asking what was happening.

Then I found a pair of earrings. One was close to the pillow, and the other was a little lower down. I suspected it was that one that had pinched me.

Immediately I picked them up, he started smiling. He said, “You put your things anywhere you want. You see how your own earrings nearly stabbed you?”

I held them at the tips of my fingers, showed them to him, and said, “When in your life did you see me wearing this kind of earrings? Confess, who do they belong to?”

He said they were mine, and if they weren’t, he couldn’t tell me who they belonged to because, according to him, I was the only one who ever slept in his bed. I called him a liar. He got angry and defensive.

“Am I a woman to wear earrings? They’re yours. Stop making a storm in a teacup and let’s sleep.”

He turned off the light and went back to bed. I calmly asked him to let me go through his phone. That was the only way I would believe what he was telling me. He called me mad. I picked up his phone and asked him to enter the password. He chuckled and turned away.

I intentionally said, “Oh, I’ve forgotten. I know the password.”

He jumped out of bed and tried to snatch the phone from me. I held on tightly to it, and my own boyfriend opened his mouth wide and bit my hand until I let go of the phone.

I dressed up, took my bag, and walked out of his room. He didn’t pursue me or make any attempt to stop me. I saw him the next day. He came to wait at my door when he closed from work. He didn’t apologize. Instead, he accused me of trying to ruin our two year old relationship with jealousy.

I told him, “You found a pair of slippers in front of my door and turned my room upside down looking for a man. Did that ruin our relationship?”

He said that was different. I said, “An earring from your girlfriend stabbed me twice in your bed and you think it’s different from finding slippers in front of my door? That’s even worse. But it’s fine. Keep the earrings and leave me alone.”

I locked him out of my door and stopped picking up his calls.

After a week, he came to my house with his sister. His sister said those earrings were hers. She said she had left them on the headboard of his bed, and they might have fallen onto the bed accidentally.

I smiled, thanked them for the explanation, and asked them to leave.

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I’ve known his sister right from the beginning. She would see me and shout, “Me nua yere,” meaning “my brother’s wife.”

I texted her, “I liked you so much, and I pray no man cheats on you the way your brother is doing to me.”

She responded, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was that deep. He didn’t tell me the whole story.”

He’s still trying to get my attention. I’ve blocked all his numbers, but he knows his way to my place, so he keeps coming around, trying to disturb my peace.

I’ve never allowed him through my door, but that doesn’t stop him. Only God knows the kind of faith he has that makes him think I’ll change my mind. His faith might be bigger than a mustard seed, but it still won’t change anything.

—Adwoa

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