I got back home and rushed to the bathroom. I opened the shower, sat down on the tiled floor and wept. I took my sponge and scrubbed every part of my body, just to wash his filthy hands off me. I stayed in the bathroom for God-knows how many hours. In the bathroom, I thought of so many things; it was a time of reflection for me.
"Enough is enough; I think it's time to go back to God," I said to myself.
I came back to the room, knelt down and cried to God for forgiveness. I made a promise to Him never to indulge in any sexual act again until I get married. I made so many promises to serve and obey Him. I put off my phone and slept.
The next day, I turned on my phone and a message from Tunde popped up. He apologised for what happened the previous day. I was still reading his text when his call came in. I decided to answer after several rings.
“Baby, I'm so sorry. I was really tired yesterday."
I didn't say a word. He continued ranting over the phone;
“Baby, please say something.”
“What do you want me to say? When did you become this bad? This is not you!”
“Please just forgive me, please...”
“Hope this won't happen again?” I asked.
“It will never happen again, I promise.” He replied
"Under one condition," I said.
"Tell me about it."
"No more sex."
"I know you are saying this out of anger. All the same, I've heard you."
"You are laughing, right?! You think I'm joking? I'm dead serious."
"I've heard you. Is that all?"
"Yes, for now."
"Okay my love, I'll talk to you later."
He dropped the call. I couldn't help but cry. "Am I in the right relationship?" I asked myself.
He acted normal for a month. He called and even visited me twice. After that, he shut down again like Nigeria's electricity.
On the other hand, I became so preoccupied; the only time I could meet him at home was Sundays, but that's when my schedules are mostly tight. Ever since the last incident, I've been very committed in Church.
After church service each Sunday, I had to attend meetings upon meetings, and by 5pm, I would have to be present for 'house fellowship' which I can't afford to miss because I was the new leader.
For two months in a row, I didn't set my eyes on him. He had stopped picking my calls and of course he never returned them. The reality of loosing him now hit me hard. I cried my eyes out when it dawn on me that my five years of relationship was crumbling before my very eyes.
Everybody knew us to be an item; my family, his family and friends. What will I tell them? Four months had gone by and we hadn't seen each other despite the fact that we both lived in Lagos.
I called cousin Joy, and told her what was going on.
“Pamilerin, don't stop calling him.”
“Even if he doesn't pick up?” I asked.
“Yes! Keep on calling. Please create time and pay him a visit so that it can be said of you that you did your best.”
“I've heard you. I'll find time and check on him.”
On Sunday, I decided not to attend all my Sunday meetings just to see him. I went to his house but to my utmost surprise, I met the room empty. I was told he had moved out. The guy I met in his compound said he had no idea of where he relocated to. He asked me how come I never knew he relocated.
I took his question for an insult, but he was right. How will my boyfriend move out without my knowledge?
“Do you remember the last time you visited him?” he asked.
“Ehn ehn! He moved out the next day.”
My hand bag and phone fell from my hand.
“Are you sure of what you just said?”
“Yes! I'm sure, because I asked of you when he was parking out and he told me you left the previous evening."
I refused to believe what he said. Tunde had another friend in the compound; I checked on him but he was no where to be found. I left the place troubled. I called him severally but he didn't answer.
I returned home that evening and sent him an SMS. He called back and told me he will come by my house the following weekend. I asked him to show me where he relocated to be he refused to disclose his new address.
Continued on next page...
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