Three years after divorce, Adwoa told me my two kids needed a father. I argued that after eleven years in a marriage that was turbulent at best, I didn’t need to love another man for him to be a father to my two kids. She said they were too young for me to carry the burden all alone. I told her that even when their father was around, I carried the burden all alone. “No new man will help me carry the burden of another man’s children,” I argued.

FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX

I grew up with Adwoa. She knew me better than anyone on this earth. When my marriage was failing and I ran to her, she gave me a shoulder, a room to escape the storm for days, and clarity, and said, “You deserve better than this. If he’s not going to change, then there’s no need.”

It was the third time I’d run to her with my kids in tow. She took care of us like we were in her asylum. When my marriage finally broke down, she hosted my kids for months, took them to school, paid their fees, and fed them until I found my feet to bring them in again. My kids call her Mom, sometimes “Big Mommy” because she’s bigger.

All the time she was telling me about a father figure, she had something or someone in mind for me. One day she called, “I’m coming around. I’m not coming alone.” She cut the call before I could ask who she was coming with. I heard a knock, I opened the door, and it was Adwoa and another man who looked like he’d lost his place on earth.

“Meet Max. Max, meet Wendy, my childhood friend,” she said.

We shook hands, and I let them in. The man sat in silence while we talked over him. Later, Adwoa said she had brought him to see me and felt we would be a good couple. Now Max smiled. I thought happiness looked good on him.

“No, you can’t do that,” I said. Max took over, “It’s my first time meeting you, but it feels like I’d known you for a very long time because Adwoa has told me everything. I came to confirm, and indeed she didn’t lie.”

He told me how he lost his wife three years ago and how he’d been looking for someone who would understand him and also be a good mother to his son. “You’ve done it before, and I would be happy if you do it again with me. I promise you, I’m not a troublesome person.”

The whole thing felt like a play—a play I’d been drafted into without a script. I was sitting there like a tree, watching them take turns to talk. I told Adwoa, “No, you can’t do this to me.” She responded, “I can do everything to you as far as it is for your own good.”

Max understood my need for time to think things through. He asked how long, and I said as long as I needed to see what I had to see. He called often. He came to check on us. Adwoa took the kids in when I needed to go out with Max. It took us a year, but one day we fell into each other’s arms, and we have remained there till today.

Our marriage ceremony was something small, just for the two families. We moved in immediately and started life together. I could see how he respected his late wife and placed her memory in a respectful place. I didn’t ask for the same or compete. I had come from the opposite side of marriage; rough, turbulent, emotionally draining. All I asked for was a quarter of what he gave his wife, but here I am, enjoying what looks like more than I asked for.

What Nobody Tells You About Divorce

Marriage, when you’re mature and have been through a lot, feels different. It’s like eating the icing, knowing the cake will be better. This is what I prayed for while marrying my first husband, but it took a second attempt to have a childhood dream come true. And Adwoa, that girl, there’s no bigger love than hers. This story is about her. I shared it to celebrate the forever love I found in her.

—Wendy 

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 [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******