By Juliet Onyeyinchi
There are stories that remain buried for years because the pain attached to them is too heavy to relive. This is one of mine.
The very first day my ex-husband asked me to cheat on him, not out of infidelity, but so I could get money to feed him, I knew something was terribly wrong. At the time, I didn’t fully understand it. I was married, in love, and hopeful. I thought marriage meant protection, partnership, and peace.
I was wrong.
Years back, while I was still living with my ex-husband, there was a young, promising man who regularly checked up on me. My husband knew about him very well. This man had been good to me long before I got married — he spoiled me with gifts, supported me financially, and treated me with care. We almost got married, but life happened. That story is for another day.
After I got married, out of what he claimed was love and concern, the man continued sending me money and gifts. Shockingly, my husband approved of it. He never met the man, never spoke to him, but he enjoyed every kobo that came through me.
Each time money was sent, my husband would immediately collect my ATM card, withdraw everything, and leave me with nothing. Still, he wasn’t satisfied. He constantly pressured me to keep calling the man so he wouldn’t stop sending money.
I warned him several times. I told him the man might eventually want something in return — that no man gives endlessly without expectations. My worries were ignored.
The man was handsome, intelligent, and hardworking. At the time, he worked with Agip Oil Company. Whenever he was on leave, he always wanted me around. That was before my marriage. After I got married, he began expressing a stronger desire to see me again.
One day, he called and said plainly that since I got married, he had been dying to have me by his side again. He pleaded repeatedly to see me and spend time with me.
I reported everything to my husband, expecting anger, maybe even jealousy.
Instead, he shocked me.
He encouraged me to go.
Not only that — he pressured me. He said if the man got angry and stopped sending money, I would “suffer.” That was when confusion turned into fear. I began to question everything. Did this man truly love me? Or was I just a means to an end?
The following day, my ex-husband asked me to dress up in a sexy outfit. He personally brought out the clothes. He said he would take me to the location himself, disguise, and once he saw me meet the man, he would leave.
I thought it was some kind of setup. Maybe he wanted to confront the man. Maybe he had a plan. I tried not to overthink it.
He insisted I call the man on loudspeaker and tell him I was on my way. The man asked me to meet him at a hotel. My husband heard everything and signaled that I should agree.
That was when reality hit me.
He quickly arranged a taxi and paid for a direct drop to the hotel. At the hotel gate, he told me to call the man and inform him that I had arrived. The man gave me the room number.
I turned and looked at my husband, hoping for clarity, hoping he would stop everything.
Instead, he told me to go and “play along.”
When I tried to speak, he shut me down. He warned me not to change any words and told me to go inside and “have fun.”
Standing there, I felt trapped. I felt sold. I felt disposable.
As I hesitated, he shouted at me to hurry up and not let people hear his voice. That was the moment I saw the monster behind the man I married. Fear took over. Tears rolled down my face as I ran into the hotel.
Ije marriage eme mu ife.
Marriage did me something.
This is my lived experience — a lesson paid for with tears and trauma.
If you would like me to continue this story, comment “Next.”
Please share so others can learn from my experience.
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