When True Love Becomes More Like A True Nightmare: A true love story of two lovers and their sad departure


As far as I can remember, it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, we had all come back from church. I was finally able to have a physical conversation with my secret crush. She had a chocolate complexion, was medium in height, had smooth skin, and curvy hips. I noticed in admiration all of these features from a distance but kept everything to myself. It had been my long-held desire, and my prayers had been finally answered.

We were chatting on the veranda, which separated our two opposite apartments, and there was a four-meter gap between us. One could argue that physics laws were used to keep the conversation going. The spark that started it all was a power outage that forced us out of our rooms, and it appeared to be a one-time occurrence. Cinema was one of our common interests. We agreed to go see a movie once the electricity had been restored.

Heavens did it, an hour later power was back, one movie after another, and we dissected each and did a deeper analysis of each character and how we both felt about them. Cinema was one of our common interests. We dissected each film and did a deeper analysis of each character and how we both felt about them. After an hour, no one wanted to leave because it seemed obvious that as far as our hobbies, we were compatible. 

One evening, as usual, we had met at my place for the same, movie time, nature took its course, and our empty stomachs began to howl. We both agreed to take a break and plan a quick snack. That is how we parted ways, but only for a brief moment. While I was preparing the snack, I started to draw fantasy scenarios of her and our romantic life around each other. Had I told her my secret desires already? No, I was still gathering courage. She texted me at 1600 hours that day, and I jiggled. I waited to respond because I didn’t want to show how anxious I was about her summons. She sent a second text, which I ignored in order to remain calm. I responded after a while, explaining that I was busy and couldn’t respond to her right away. But was I busy? Of course not, I was already in love with her appearance. As a bachelor, I had complete control over my way of life, which was not governed by anyone.

The next day, late in the evening, a friend brought me my favorite drink, two cartons of Hunter’s Beer (my favorite cider) for my personal enjoyment. I reached out to her for the company of a drink, not realizing she was an alcoholic. We both had a good time together and then parted ways. I had a night shift, so I had to leave her right after the beer time. We hugged and said our goodbyes.

I was an excessive introvert, whereas she was an intense extrovert. In a week, I learned a lot about her and her family, as well as her previous partners. It was also simple and convenient to pay regular visits because we had both gradually begun to open up to one another. She came over to my house whenever she had time for a movie night or just to talk. I became a good listener as well as a good adviser to her. She was in her final year of high school, and I took that seriously because I had just graduated and knew exactly what that meant for her. I began to shift my attention away from her conversation and toward her studies. I returned her calls, conducted research for her coursework and assignments, and ensured that she was comfortable and safe while at university.

My concern for her seemed to increase her love for me, and she could no longer deny it. I officially asked her to be my girlfriend and she accepted! I didn’t want to rush her before she graduated. I was ready to wait on her. I had a couple of meetings with her mother to discuss her academic performance and future plans. “How could such a young man be so courageous and ascertained to be gentle with my daughter even when he holds the keys to her heart?” her mother wondered. She shared every detail of the conversation with her daughter because mothers always want the best for their children. In her eyes, I appeared to be a divinely sent messiah.

I asked to have a sensitive chat with her one evening. This was dedicated to being open about our prior relationships and how we all decided to move on and be new beings embracing the new us and our new relationship. As much as it was good to talk about these things, I should have kept in mind that each of us had demons and darkness within that our physical appearances tried to conceal.

We both had a past, albeit very different ones. The difference between our pasts was that she seemed to have more demons than I did, and she needed to reconcile with them before she could accept change. Her past had been…so painfully indescribable, and that piqued my interest. As the caring man that I had become, I wanted to see her improve, and I believed she would. I was not about to give up on her because she, like any other human being, deserved to be loved. I’ve always known that there is beauty in the broken. I advised her to accept the past as her past reality so that she could die to it and resurrect as a new creation free of all past monsters and spiritual and sexual entanglements. It was difficult for her to accept, but I assured her that it was the right thing to do.

As a believer, I also introduced her to God and encouraged her to seek refuge in HIM during difficult times.  All I wanted was for her to feel forgiven. By doing all of these things, I mistakenly forced her to transform into the being I desired, which was a huge mistake. I should have loved her for who she was and what she was, so she would willingly change not just for the sake of our relationship. Her past had been harsh and was still deeply moving her. She said she always felt relaxed after talking to me because I gave her my undivided attention, indicating that her issues bothered me and were important. I became her safe haven, making it easy for her to spend the majority of her free time with me.

There was this one boy from her past she couldn’t seem to get off her mind. He wasn’t physically close, but he was always present. It was her greatest demon and a major impediment between us. “I’d rather not share his details; “It’s safer to be buried with this one secret,” she revealed one day as we sat chatting as usual. I knew that as long as we kept secrets from each other, we’d end up on the same path as before. Intrigued by her statement, my mind began to speculate on what might have happened between the two. “If God gives so many second chances, why wouldn’t I give her another chance at true love?” I questioned myself. I decided to give her time to recover so she could make the right decision when she was sober and not under any pressure. We took a reflection break.

We did not engage as much during the time break; it was less communicative because it was a self-time evaluation of consciousness. Each person made a resolution to reflect on and set goals for themselves and for the relationship. A city carnival festival (where people meet and have fun) happened to coincide with our break. This did not pique my interest as the introvert that I am, but it did for my extrovert fiancé. She went to the carnival with a group of male and female friends whose identities I didn’t know. She didn’t tell me anything.

Following the time out and the end of our break, we gathered for a thorough discussion of the next steps. She poured her heart out because she was an extrovert and a woman. Inquiring about the city carnival festival, she stated that she did not attend. I begged her to be honest, and she admitted she had gone with her friends. I couldn’t stand lying people. “Perhaps we’re just too different,” I reasoned at that moment. A relationship built on lies has no chance of success, I was sure. I began to question whether every statement she had ever made to me was true or false. This created an invisible barrier between us that only I could see. I approached her mother in private to learn more about her way of life. Her mother was not open enough about her daughter, despite the fact that she was well aware of what was going on.

She kept everything hidden because it was the only way she could protect her; she adored and cared for her. She had a heated argument with her sister on one fateful night. During the conversation, her sister revealed every detail about her dirty past, and my girlfriend kept pleading for forgiveness. I happened to be on the outskirts of the apartment, where I could not only see but also hear every word. It broke my heart to learn about her other side of life during a fight. I wished she had told me by herself. 

I confronted her about it the next day, and she admitted it was all true. She then went on to reveal even more embarrassing details about her past which I will not go into here. Her true identity however remains with God, I started to think but resisted the feeling that we were too different and hoped in vain for change. I took her hand in mine and told her we were a team and we’d figure it out. She was a young girl, vibrant, full of energy and fun, who was not ready to settle down and wanted to travel and enjoy the world. I was young but wanted so badly to settle. She was still seeing her ex-boyfriend, a demon she had failed to conquer. She came home drunk every morning, despite the fact that I cleaned up her mess; she missed coursework and assignments that I completed and submitted on her behalf. She was abused, and I consoled her; she was beaten, and I bandaged her wounds; I gave her love, and to me, she seemed to be paying me with pain. I saw no future with her because she didn’t have one of her own.

My goal in her life shifted, and I began focusing on her redemption rather than our relationship. This was her favorite part because she could always find a brother, a friend, a lover, or a family to belong to. Unfortunately, I did these things because I know how it feels to be rejected and abandoned especially because of your weaknesses. I was there for her through her addictions and struggles to overcome them. I concentrated on positively influencing her life in the hopes that she would change one day. Addiction takes a lot of patience, which I might think I lacked.

When she knocked on my door at 2315 hours, I couldn’t open it because of what might happen next. She
had nowhere to turn but to gather herself and plan her next move. “We’ll talk when the sun comes up.” I
sent her a text message. I understood because she did not respond. The next morning, she told me about
being sexually abused by a male friend, though I found it difficult to believe anything she said.

In reality, she had had sexual relations with him willingly and she felt guilt. She found out she was pregnant a month later. I got so hurt, once she came running to me, I told her bitterly that she couldn’t turn back because it was too late. How long was I going to endure the pain? The solution at hand was to approach the male friend who had gotten her pregnant and resolve the matter together, I advised her. My role in her life I hoped was to see her redemption, but I accepted the fact that I couldn’t, I wasn’t Jesus! I failed! I gave in! and she succumbed back to her sexual addiction. She dropped out of school, had a baby boy, and never tasted the sweet fruits of her education labor. It hurt me even more. I loved her but I was getting so hurt.

I knew it was finally time to let go and move on to the next chapter of my life. She is now a mother to someone and a baby mama to someone else. I couldn’t say it was wasted time, but rather an opportunity to learn that it’s Jesus that saves!  When I saw her sink into the same past she was trying to overcome, tears streamed down my cheeks. Her chocolate skin, smooth skin, and curvy hips stayed with me. I couldn’t help but walk away, hoping for her redemption one day and comforting myself with the fact that we were just so different. I accepted the fact. And that became our undetermined fate, the end of our beautiful bitter romance journey!



 Story by: Raymond Ahabwe

 Editted : G.L. Maria

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