Chapter 3: A Love That Ruined Me.
She only wanted to be loved—but love, for Ezinne, came wrapped in pain.
It started like most dangerous things do—slow, soft, and sweet.
Ezinne was seventeen when she met Somto. He was tall, quiet, and had this way of looking at her that made her forget she was the girl nobody ever saw. He wasn't like the boys who teased her or tried to touch her without consent. No. Somto looked at her like she mattered.
They met at the cyber café near her school. She was there to print out an exam past question, he was there waiting for a friend. Their first conversation was awkward. He asked if she was a student. She said yes. He smiled. She didn't know why, but she smiled back.
It was the first time in a long time someone spoke to her without expecting anything. She didn't expect to see him again.
But she did.
Twice the next week.
Then once after church service.
And before long, they started talking more regularly. In the café, outside the compound, sometimes in quiet corners where no one disturbed them.
For the first time in her life, someone listened to her. Genuinely.
He asked her what she wanted to study in the university.
"English Education," she said. "Or maybe Law."
"That suits you," he replied. "You talk like someone who knows herself."
It was a simple sentence, but Ezinne held on to it like a treasure. Nobody had ever told her that before—not even her teachers. She started to write his name in her notebooks absentmindedly. Her lips formed silent smiles during lessons, her eyes often drifted to the windows. She began to dream of more than just escaping home. She dreamed of loving and being loved.
But dreams are fragile things.
One rainy evening, they sat under the mango tree near his house. He held her hand gently, fingers brushing over her knuckles.
"I wish I could take you away from all this," he said.
"You don't even know what 'all this' is," she replied, laughing nervously.
He turned to her, serious. "I don't need to. I see it in your eyes."
She looked away, fighting the sting of tears.
And maybe that was the moment she gave him her heart completely.
It didn't take long before the touches became longer. The kisses deeper. She had never been touched before, never even imagined it could feel like that. It wasn't planned. It wasn't talked about. But one quiet Sunday afternoon, in the back room of a friend's compound, she gave herself to him.
She cried afterward. Not out of pain. Not regret. But because she thought, Finally….. someone chose me.
Weeks passed.
She waited for his calls. His texts. His eyes looking for her across the café.
They came.... less.
Then barely at all.
Then not at all.
And one day, when she hadn't seen him for a week, she asked his friend.
"Somto? He's in Enugu. His parents came and took him."
Her heart sank.
She called him. Once. Twice. The third time, he picked.
"Ezinne..… please don't call me again. I'm with my people. They can't know about you."
The line went dead.
So did something in her.
She sat on the floor of her small room, legs pulled to her chest, shaking. Her phone slipped from her hands. Her breath came in short bursts.
And then, just when she thought she couldn't feel any lower—the nausea began.
She didn't need a test. Her body told her.
She was pregnant.
Telling her mother was like walking into a burning house and asking for a hug.
"You are what?!"
Ezinne stood still, shaking. "I didn't plan it, Mama. I....."
Before she could finish, a hard slap landed on her cheek. Then another. Her mother screamed so loud the neighbors gathered outside the house.
"I knew you were useless! See your life! Ashawo! You've brought disgrace to this family!"
Her siblings watched from the doorway. Adaora smirked. Chinedu looked away.
Her mother didn't stop. She dragged her by the arm, out of the compound.
They walked straight to Somto's house where only his mother was around.
"Your useless son got my daughter pregnant!" her mother screamed.
Somto's mother looked Ezinne up and down like she was dirt. "Your daughter? This one? We don't know her."
"She said it's Somto!"
"Let her bring proof. In fact, even if she's pregnant, it's not our business. My son cannot marry this kind of girl."
The door slammed.
Her mother turned to her. "You've finished yourself. Don't come to my house and expect pity. You will suffer. You will carry this shame alone."
And that was exactly what happened.
No one stood by her. No one asked if she had eaten. No one held her hand when the morning sickness hit. Her friends avoided her. Her church banned her from singing in the choir. Her school suspended her indefinitely.
She was seventeen. Alone. And carrying life inside her.
But she carried it anyway.
When the baby came, she didn't scream. She just cried silently, the way she had learned to.
It was a boy.
Tiny. Warm. Fragile. Beautiful.
She looked at him and whispered, "I'll never make you feel unwanted."
She named him Chibuikem — God is my strength.
Because by then, He was all she had left.
She left town a few months after, with nothing but a small Ghana-Must-Go bag, her baby strapped to her chest, and enough money for a bus ride to a distant city.
Nobody said goodbye.
Not even her mother.
But Ezinne didn't look back.
Because sometimes, to survive, you have to let go of everything—even the people who were supposed to love you.