I met Akosua almost two years ago, and from the start, it felt different. When I asked her to be my woman on December 17th, 2023, I wasn’t just talking. I meant every single word that came out of my mouth. I promised to take care of her, to love her right, and I meant that with everything in me.

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Her family didn’t have much. Her dad was gone, and it was just her, her mom, and her brother. When I looked at her, I didn’t just see a girlfriend. I saw a future wife. I saw someone worth everything I could give, so I gave everything. My love, my money, and all the assurance she needed.

When she moved in with me, I paid for her entire life. Her clothes, her hair which cost almost GHS600 every two months because she always wanted it done, her food, her transport, her nails, her braids, everything.

Before her, I was the kind of guy who would give a girl GHS150 and act like I had done something big because money was mine and I kept it close. But Akosua changed that. She made me want to be different, so I became someone who gave without asking questions. GHS800 this week, GHS2,000 the next, depending on how my trading was going. I bought her an iPhone, an iPad, a MacBook, and whatever she wanted. If she had asked for the world, I would have given it to her without thinking twice.

She was lazy and never wanted to do anything, not even fetch water for her own mother, so I paid someone to do it. I cooked for her, I cleaned for her, and I never complained, not once.

On January 8th, 2025, she started technical university. I told her to move back with her mom so the commute would be easier. I said I would still take care of everything, and I did.

Then February came, the month of love filled with chocolates and flowers, but my girlfriend had already mapped out ways to slowly kill me.

The first sign was when she told me she would not be visiting on weekends anymore. She said it just like that, with no explanation. I didn’t argue. I thought maybe she needed time to focus on school, and as a lover boy, I understood.

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Then the messages started getting slow, and she wouldn’t answer my calls. I had to start leaving comments under her TikTok posts just to get her to notice me. Me. Her boyfriend. The man paying for everything. And there I was, begging for attention on social media.

Something inside me started screaming, and I asked her straight up, “Are you cheating?”

She said no, but my body knew the truth before my mind did. When she came over, I couldn’t touch her the way I used to. I knew her body, and it felt different. It tasted different. It felt like someone else had been there, like someone was eating the same meat I was, and I could feel it.

I knew something was wrong. It sat on my chest like a weight. But she was clever. She had more than one Snapchat account, and she would switch between them whenever I was around. It was like watching someone disappear right in front of you.

So I decided to get smart. I bought her a new iPhone 16 Plus and took her old one. I knew she didn’t really understand how iPhones work and that she’d get confused. She logged out of Snapchat and WhatsApp, but TikTok—she forgot TikTok. It was still there, still open, still showing me everything.

I kept asking her. I said, “Just tell me. If you’re seeing someone, just tell me. If you confess, I’ll still help you with school. But if I catch you, I’m taking everything back—everything I bought—and I’m putting you right back where I found you.”

She didn’t even flinch. Maybe she thought I was bluffing. Maybe she thought I was all talk.

Then came May 24th, 2025. A Saturday. 9:20 in the morning. I went through her TikTok messages and took screenshots of all her chats, all her infidelity. I sent them to her, and she ignored me. So I called her sister and said, “Pass her the phone. She needs to see this.”

Then I did something I’m not proud of. I pretended to be her. I kept talking to the guy—the other guy.

Four months. That’s how long it had been going on. Four months. The same four months she stopped visiting me.

I messaged him on WhatsApp and confronted him. He was rude, even cruel, because Akosua had already poisoned his mind. She told him I was some crazy ex trying to ruin her life, and he blocked me. So I called from another number and explained everything. Slowly, he started to listen.

While all this was happening, Akosua was calling him nonstop. Not me. Never me. When I finally got her on the phone, she hung up.

Sunday morning, 6 a.m., she finally messaged me. I thought maybe she was sorry. Maybe she was ready to make things right. But no. She opened her mouth and told me she still loved him.

That was when I stopped being sad. I got angry.

She stole money from my wallet—dollars I had saved. She asked to exchange them for cedis, and I said yes. I even helped her do it. She got GHS2,700, brought back GHS1,000, and kept GHS1,700.

She used my money to rent hotel rooms with him. Every time they went out, it was my money in her pocket. The GHS600 I gave her every week for school? Gone. Spent on dates and hotels with him. She lied about going to class. She was with him instead.

I always wore protection because she said she didn’t want to get pregnant during school. He didn’t. And it was my money that paid for the room where she gave him what she wouldn’t give me.

When he asked where the iPhone 16 Plus came from, she told him I was an ex begging her to come back. Begging her for what? I did her laundry. I cooked every meal. I cleaned our home. I drove her around. When I got tired, I still paid for her Uber. I did everything. She did nothing.

Even on Valentine’s Day, when I bought her a full KFC bucket and a nice gift, she took both and gave them to him.

She told him I was abusive. That I was controlling. That I was a monster. She said she never loved me. She even lied that her mother was sick in the hospital, just to see him. But I know her mother. That woman is strong and healthy. She’s a herbalist in our community and hasn’t been sick a single day that I know of. It was all a lie.

On Mother’s Day, I bought her mom gifts to say thank you. That woman had been good to me for years. She cooked for me, helped us, treated me like family. But instead of being grateful, Akosua told him I was trying to brainwash her mother with money. Me—the same guy everyone knows doesn’t spend on anyone.

She told him her father was the one buying her all the expensive things. Her father. The ghost who’s never been in her life. She told him she had multiple sponsors, and that sponsor was me.

Eventually, the guy figured out she was lying to him too. When we finally talked and I showed him everything, he understood. We both understood.

That was when I made a decision. I took it all back—the phone, the iPad, the MacBook, all of it. I stopped paying her school fees, stopped giving her money, stopped everything.

Two weeks later, she was back at her mother’s house, broken and living the same way she was before I found her.

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People ask me if I’m heartbroken, and no, I’m not. Everything I gave her came from a good place, and I don’t see it as wasted. She’s still alive, and maybe she can learn from this. Maybe one day she’ll help someone else with what I taught her.

But here’s what I’ve realized. I gave her a taste of comfort, of luxury, of money, of a life where she never had to lift a finger. And now that I’ve taken it all away, she’ll feel the difference every single day.

I almost feel sorry for the next guy because I’ve planted something in her, a belief that she deserves everything without giving anything, that someone should always take care of her, and that she never has to try.

I can forgive the cheating. I can forgive the lies. I can even forgive her asking him to kill me. Yes, she actually did that.

But what I can’t forgive is that she took my dollars and my pounds and used them to make another man happy. She used my sweat to buy his comfort. And that, more than anything else, is what still keeps me up at night.

—Martey

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