He Married Me Because They Couldn’t Have Children of Their Own

I am the only daughter in my family, with two older brothers. We were raised in a strict, Christian home. My dad and brothers were my protectors. You know what that means.

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My life was simple: home, school, and church. That was all. I was never allowed to go to sleepovers or parties. I didn’t really have friends. Even when I could go out, my brothers or our driver were always waiting for me. Mostly, it was my brothers. My dad did not even trust the driver to keep me safe. They were that strict and that loving.

I studied hard, became a pharmacist, and started working at a big hospital in Accra. By 27, I was successful and building my own life in the busy city.

Then, I met Louis.

He is a charming businessman from a very important family. He was fifteen years older than me, but I didn’t care. The heart wants what it wants. I loved him because he reminded me of my father. He was calm, wise, and protective. He made me feel safe, and I loved that feeling.

We were together for over a year. In all that time, he never tried to touch me or force me into anything. We just talked and fell in love, like teenagers. I didn’t mind that I had no other friends. I felt I had found my best friend and the love of my life in one person. I thought I had everything.

When I took him to meet my family, they liked him. I was so proud. But my big brother, Yaw, was not happy. He said, “My soul isn’t at peace.” He felt something was wrong with Louis. We all ignored him. We thought he was just being a protective big brother. My dad and brothers checked Louis’s background, and everything was fine. So, we got married.

The wedding was beautiful. His family welcomed me with open arms. I admired their values. After three months of marriage, I found out I was pregnant with twins. We were so happy. I dreamed of our home filled with the sounds of a baby crying, little feet running, and bedtime stories. I was ready for that perfect life you see in movies.

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He began getting calls late at night. He would disappear for hours. When I asked him about it, he would just smile, rub my cheek, and say, “Oh, it’s just business. You know how it is.” I believed him. I wanted to believe him. But a small, worried feeling started to grow inside me.

In my sixth month of pregnancy, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see the woman I knew as Louis’s sister. I was happy for the company, as Louis was away on a week-long trip. But her face was serious.

After she sat down, she said, “Adjoa, I need to talk to you. I need to apologize. You don’t deserve this.”

I froze and my mind raced. What was she talking about? How did she mean?

She continued, “I’m not Louis’s sister. I’m his wife. His first wife.”

I could not understand her words. She calmly explained that she and Louis had been married for almost twenty years. She said they married young, but she could not have children because of an illness. After many surgeries, they still had no baby. She said they agreed that Louis would find someone to have a child with. He refused until they saw me at the hospital. Me, I was their lab rat; I was to become their babymaking machine.

They found out about me and my family. Louis decided to befriend me. But when he saw I would not be friends with a married man and that I had never been with a man before, they decided to marry me instead. She agreed to the plan because she wanted a child. But after I got pregnant, Louis started avoiding her. He only talked about me. He had not visited her in over a month. She was hurt and insecure, so she came to tell me their truth.

The news was too much, so I remember I passed out.

When I woke up, I was in denial. I remembered my brother’s warning. My family and I had been tricked. Why would Louis betray me like this? I sent her out of my house, but she left an envelope behind. Inside were their marriage certificates, photos, and other proof.

I was in terrible pain. I needed answers only Louis could give. Maybe it was all a lie. I waited for him to return from his trip.

That was the longest wait of my life. I cried every day. I had no one to tell.

When he came back, I confronted him. At first, he acted like he did not know what I was talking about. But when I gave him the papers, the look on his face told me everything. I had been played.

I told him I wanted a divorce. I said I could take care of my baby alone, but I needed my freedom. I begged him and told him I did not want to die young.

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I don’t know what I said wrong, but it was like a switch flipped in him. I had never seen him so angry. He started smashing things, breaking furniture. In minutes, our living room looked like it had been robbed.

I screamed. He stopped and walked towards me. I moved back, but he grabbed my arm. “You think I’ll let you leave?” he said. “You are my wife. The mother of my child. My first love.” Then he screamed, “Are you leaving me for another man? I will ruin your life if you ever mention divorce again! You belong to me!”

He dragged me to the bedroom. Despite my cries and protests, my husband forced himself on me. He only stopped when he saw I was bleeding. He rushed me to the hospital. By God’s grace, my baby and I are okay.

But now, I don’t know who I am living with. When I see him, I remember that night. I feel like I have been kidnapped. I don’t see Louis anymore. I see a monster.

I can’t close my eyes without seeing it all: this fraudulent marriage, the violence. It haunts me. I want to tell my family and go home, but I am scared of what he will do.