Before I accepted Evans’proposal, I told him I didn’t want us to get intimate before marriage. He said he didn’t mind waiting. “I want to marry you as soon as possible, anyway.” That was the assurance he gave me. At the time, I was 22 while he was 34. I wasn’t desperately looking for marriage but he said he was ready.

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We were both in the same church. That’s how we met in the first place. I served in the choir, and he was in the sanctuary unit. We didn’t keep our relationship a secret from anyone in the church. It was his proof that he wasn’t joking about his intentions for me.

Six months into our relationship, he officially proposed marriage. It all became real to me, and I think I got cold feet. I started worrying about the age gap. I felt he was more experienced in the things of love and life than I was. However, he patiently assured me that he would look out for my best interests.

Truly, he had shown signs that he would take care of me. I had a job but he always seized the opportunity to provide for me. Eventually, I let go of my reservations and agreed to proceed with the marriage plans. It didn’t take long before he brought his family to meet mine for the official introduction.

After we returned from my hometown to the city, I started having accommodation issues. When I told him about it he suggested that I move in with him. “After all, our wedding is in December,” he pointed out. I bought into his logic, and we started living together.

At first, it was fun. We even let go of our initial reservations and ended up getting intimate. This story would have been different if things had remained the same. Unfortunately, change is bound to happen. Even in relationships with a great start like ours.

We began seeing each other’s bad sides. He was addicted to his phone, rarely listened to my concerns, and struggled with pornography and masturbation. He also stopped giving me gifts, and whenever things didn’t go his way, he’d give me the silent treatment.

I’m not saying I was perfect, but I made efforts. I bought him gifts almost every month, cooked, cleaned, and attended to his needs in bed.

One day, when things were good between us he asked me how I envisioned our future. I told him I didn’t see myself working under anyone. “I want to be my own boss.”

After that conversation, he introduced me to his sister so I could learn sewing. Things changed drastically between us again when my apprenticeship began.

The household income became one-sided. He covered all my expenses: transportation, feeding, and general upkeep. This brought tension into the relationship. We argued constantly and gave each other the silent treatment.

When we fought, I complained about how his addiction was affecting our intimacy. He would say he was working on it, but nothing ever changed. Eventually, I got tired and left him.

I tried to move on, even though I missed him terribly. We still talked on the phone, but he didn’t make any effort to win me back, so I focused on my job and personal growth.

Two months down the line, I found out I was pregnant. I told him, and he was overjoyed. He said he suspected it already. We went to my family home together, and my father told him that in our culture, marriage can’t happen during pregnancy.

He said he didn’t mind waiting. He gave me some money and items as an assurance that we’d do the needful after the baby was born. Was I happy? Not really. I was just going with the flow.

But to be honest, he treated me like a queen during the pregnancy,  That period was honestly the best. Our baby brought blessings. His finances increased. We were truly happy. When I gave birth to our beautiful baby girl, he was there through it all.

But two months after delivery, everything changed again.

He stopped being involved. He wouldn’t carry our child, barely spoke to me, was constantly on his phone, and even watched porn in front of me. When I confronted him, he said, “It’s my phone, I can do what I want.” I became depressed. When our baby was four months old, I told him I was tired. He said he was tired too and suggested we break up. I was heartbroken. I asked what next, and he told me I had three days to leave his house. So I left.

He spends on our girl generously — but we are no longer together. We’re co-parenting now.

Here’s where I need advice:

I have my own shop now, and my daughter will turn one in two weeks. Recently, our rent was increased by twice the original amount. I couldn’t afford it, so I started searching for a new place but I couldn’t find a favourable place within my price range. Evans even joined in the search but nothing came of it.

One day, I came home and found that the landlord had locked me and my daughter out. I called my baby daddy, and he came to talk to the landlord. The landlord said we were two months behind on rent and that he needed to give out the house if we weren’t renewing.

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When all our pleas to the landlord fell on deaf ears, Evans’s next course of action was to move all our stuff to his place. “You can live here until you find a place,” he offered.

Now, we’re living like strangers. Our daughter doesn’t know him well enough to let him carry her. He provides food money and checks in when I’m late, but that’s it. We haven’t been intimate at all.

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The other day he said we should get back together. According to him, we make a beautiful family so let’s try and work things out so our daughter can have a real family.

I don’t know what to think. When I left his house, none of his family members reached out. Not even the one I learned sewing from. What do you think I should do?

—Sadie

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