Four years ago I experienced the worse heartbreak of my life. It was 14th February. The night of Valentine. Everything in me gave up. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t stand. Even my own tears deserted me. I paced around my boyfriend’s house as if I didn’t know my way into his room. I called his phone. It rang but he never picked up. I called again and put my ears behind his window. His phone was ringing from the inside but he wasn’t picking up. I knocked. I screamed his name. I called again. No response came through. I kept going around the house, hoping something would change. It was around twelve midnight when his next-door neighbor asked me, “Lady, is everything alright with you?”
Our relationship was three years old. His father was the pastor of our church so it was through the church that I got to know him. He wasn’t in town when his father was pastoring our church. He was living abroad but came around once every year. I didn’t pay him much attention though he was very free with all my friends. One day after church, he stopped me and took my number. The following day, he called to tell me he wants to be friends with me. A week after being friends, he proposed to me. I didn’t say yes because the proposal sounded hurried. He said, “I would be going back very soon and I want to have you say yes before I finally leave.” I told him, “I can respond to your proposal even if you’re not here. No need to rush.”
My only concern was how we were going to manage the distance. But he told me, “When I return next year, I wouldn’t be going back again. It’s my father’s wish for me to come back home and work so I would be back, stay here, and find myself something to do.” I didn’t say yes immediately. He went back to the US, communicated with me every night and day until I finally said yes to his proposal. He was far from me but we never missed a day without being close to each other. He came back a year later and as he promised, he didn’t leave again. He got himself a very good job and started building his life locally.
A year or so later, his father got retired and was duly sent off. His parents didn’t fancy Accra life. They spoke lowly of the fast-paced living here and spoke highly of their hometown where everything seemed easy. Before his parents left Accra, his mother told me, “Henry is in your hands now. I’ve known you for a while and I know you can take very good care of him. Don’t allow him to go wayward. When the time is right and you come home, we would always welcome you with open arms.” That was an endorsement of our relationship and because of that, I did everything I could to ensure Henry was happy. When he called for me to visit and…R£ad The Full Story On Our Site T@P H£ere.. Don't forget to share.
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