I can barely see through the tears as I type this. My heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million pieces, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to put it back together. Today, I found out that Shola—the man I gave my heart, my body, my future—got married last week. He’s with her now. Iyanu, The girl he swore was just a friend.
It feels like a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. I’m reliving every moment, every memory, every promise he made and broke.
We met one night at a party on campus. I was in my final year, and he was just starting out, full of excitement for university life. I still remember how he walked up to me, looking so eager, a little nervous.
“Adeola, right?” he said. “I’ve heard so much about you. You’re the best student in your department, and I’m studying the same course. Can I get your number? I’d love for you to be my mentor.”
His words caught me off guard. I’d never thought of myself that way, but his admiration was sweet. He seemed like a good kid, just starting his journey, and I was about to end mine. I gave him my number, and we stayed in touch. I’d offer advice when he asked, nothing more.
After I graduated, Shola still checked up on me from time to time, since my apartment is not far from the school he do visit me most times asking how I was, saying he missed having me around campus.
Then one day, he called me in tears. He had been kicked out of his hostel. There was a problem with the landlord, he couldn’t pay his rent and he had nowhere to stay. His voice was shaking, and I could hear the desperation. I had an extra room in my apartment, and it didn’t even cross my mind to say no. I let him move in with me. He was just a young student in need, and I wanted to help him.
But then, something shifted. We started spending more time together, and before I knew it, we were more than just mentor and mentee. I fell in love with him—completely, helplessly. He had a way of making me feel alive, like I could start over again, like I could be young and carefree, despite the age gap of 8 years. I should have known better.
The first time I got pregnant, I was terrified. I sat him down in my living room, my heart pounding in my chest, and told him the news. His face changed immediately, from shock to anger.
“Adeola, I can’t deal with this right now! I’m just in my first year! I need to focus on school!”
I cried as he begged me to get rid of it, I even told him I don’t mind being responsible for the welfare of the baby but he clearly state it to me that he doesn’t want the baby, he was to take full responsibility of his children, so we would have them at the right time. He promised me that we had a future together, but he just wasn’t ready yet. He said we’d have our time—just not now. Out of love, I did it. I had the abortion.
Afterward, he came home with flowers and a small gift—a gold bracelet. He said it was his way of apologizing, of showing me he still cared. But the pain of that day lingered. I tried to bury it deep, but I couldn’t.
A few months passed, and it happened again. Another pregnancy. This time, I was more afraid of his reaction than the reality of carrying his child. And again, he got angry. I saw the same panic, the same frustration. “Why do you keep letting this happen, Adeola?” he snapped. But wasn’t it both of us? I felt trapped, stuck in a cycle I couldn’t escape. He convinced me to go through with another abortion.
Then came the gifts again—the empty promises, the sweet words, and the constant apologies. I believed him every time because I thought he loved me. He promised we would have our future once he finished school. He talked about how many kids we’d have, how we would build a home together. But deep down, I could feel something was wrong.
By the time I got pregnant for the third time, I barely recognized myself. I was emotionally exhausted, but I thought things would be different. But no—his reaction was the same, only colder this time. “Adeola, you know I can’t handle this. Why are you doing this to us?”
And still, I went through with it, because I loved him, and I believed in the dream he kept selling me. But each time I went under that knife, a piece of me disappeared. The pain didn’t just linger—it consumed me.
I started noticing him spending more time with a girl from his class Iyanu. They were always together, studying, laughing, walking around campus. I asked him about her, but he always brushed it off. “She’s just a friend,” he would say. I tried to believe him. I told myself that after everything we’d been through, he wouldn’t betray me like that. But I could feel it in my gut. Something was wrong.
Then came the final blow—the fourth pregnancy. By this time, my body was weak. The doctor warned me that another abortion could be dangerous. But Shola insisted. He wasn’t ready for a child, and he said we had no other choice. After the procedure, I found out the devastating truth—I would never be able to carry a child again. My womb had been destroyed.
I told him, hoping he would finally realize the gravity of what had happened. I thought he would hold me and tell me we’d get through it together. But instead, he looked at me coldly and said, “You shouldn’t have kept getting pregnant in the first place.” His words felt like poison, seeping into my veins. Three days later, he left. No explanation, no goodbye. Just gone.
I didn’t hear from him again—until today. A friend told me he got married last week. To her. To Iyanu. The same girl he promised was nothing more than a classmate. As I sit here, I can’t stop the tears. I feel so lost, so broken. I’ve given up my body, my future, my ability to have children—all for a man who never loved me the way I loved him.
I don’t know how to move on from this. I don’t know how to heal. My heart is heavy, my soul is weary, and every time I think of him standing at that altar with her, a part of me dies all over again.
Please, if anyone is reading this, I need help. How do you heal from this kind of betrayal? How do you pick up the pieces when everything you believed in is gone? I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost my future, my dreams, and now the one person I thought would always be there has built a life with someone else.
I’m crying as I type this because I can’t see a way forward. The depression is swallowing me whole. How do you move on when you’ve lost everything? Please, if you have any advice, anything to help me get through this, I’m begging you—tell me. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.