Even the strong slip sometimes II
A short story based on a true-life story(Part 2)
II
The night of your first date felt surreal. You stood before the mirror, adjusting the deep emerald green dress he’d sent you. It hugged your body in all the right ways, making you feel powerful yet vulnerable. The excitement was unexpected, almost unsettling. You rarely let yourself feel this way, but here you were, heart pounding, anticipation growing with each passing minute. When you arrived, Yomi was waiting by the entrance, his gaze warm as he watched you approach. He wore a dark suit, perfectly tailored, making him look older, more composed. His smile was genuine, his eyes soft. He reached out, guiding you into the restaurant with a hand on your back, a gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.
The restaurant was beautiful, a dimly lit haven with golden lights and soft jazz humming in the background. It felt like a scene from a movie, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into the moment, letting down your guard. As you sat across from him, Yomi leaned in, listening intently to every word you said. He asked questions, thoughtful ones, the kind that showed he was really listening. When you mentioned your distrust in relationships, he didn’t flinch or scoff; he responded with understanding, sharing his own fears and reflections. As the night wore on, you found yourself smiling, laughing in a way that felt easy, unburdened. When the night finally came to an end, he opened the car door for you, a small gesture that made your heart skip a beat. As you slipped into the car, you felt a flicker of hope. For once, it felt different.
The weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Yomi became a constant presence in your life, each day bringing new layers to the person you were discovering. He met you at your highs and lows, encouraging you, listening, and making you feel like your world was a little brighter with him in it. You talked about everything - your ambitions, your fears, your experiences. He never interrupted, never brushed off your opinions. For once, you felt seen, understood. You didn’t want to admit it, but part of you was starting to believe that maybe he was different, that maybe this was what you had been looking for. There were moments of vulnerability, where you allowed yourself to let go of the armor, where he saw parts of you no one else had seen. But there was always a voice in the back of your mind, reminding you to be careful, to remember that men, no matter how kind they seemed, could still hurt you. Yet with Yomi, you couldn’t help but feel safe, as though he was willing to meet you halfway, to break down those walls together...
III
It was a normal day when you found out. The test strip was still in your hand, the two pink lines clear as day. You sat in shock, heart racing as the reality sank in. You were pregnant. Your emotions were a storm - fear, excitement, disbelief, all swirling inside you. But beneath it all, you felt a strange, quiet acceptance. At 25, in your final year, this wasn’t part of the plan, but you felt ready. When you told Yomi, you expected hesitation, maybe even shock. But his reaction was like a slap in the face. His anger was sudden, sharp, leaving you reeling. He insisted that you couldn’t keep the baby, that he wasn’t ready to be a father. His words stabbed you like a knife, and for the first time, you felt a crack in the foundation of the life you had started building with him. In that moment, you felt your heart break, pieces of your dreams shattering around you. You left, tears streaming down your face, feeling betrayed and abandoned.
Two weeks later, he came back, his eyes filled with remorse. He brought gifts, apologies spilling from his lips, promises that he would take responsibility, that he had panicked, that he had made a mistake. His words were like balm to your wound, soothing but painful. You forgave him, but you didn’t let go of the condition you had set.
If he wanted to be a father, he had to marry you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world without the security of a family, without the commitment you’d dreamed of having one day. And to your surprise, he agreed without hesitation. He promised he would meet your parents, make things official, and set your fears to rest.
Within a month, he proposed. It wasn’t just a promise anymore, it was real. He’d told you he was sick and needed you to come over urgently. When you rushed to his place, you were greeted by candlelight, roses, and a small box in his hand. You stood there, heart pounding as he knelt before you, smiling that same soft smile that had first drawn you in. He opened the box, revealing a beautiful ring, and asked you to marry him. You felt the air catch in your throat, emotions swirling, and with a teary “yes,” you let yourself believe that, maybe, this was the happiness you had fought so hard to find.
When Yomi visited your family, you felt nervous, holding your breath as he and your father spoke at length. Your mother, ever the traditionalist, pulled you aside. Her gaze was stern but layered with a sadness that made your heart ache. “My daughter,” she began, her voice steady but laced with disappointment. “How could you do this to yourself? Getting pregnant outside wedlock… it’s not becoming of a well-trained Yoruba girl.” Her words hit like a slap, a mixture of shame and anger washing over you. You tried to brush it off, to focus on the fact that Yomi was here, that he was willing to make things right, but your mother wasn’t finished. “At least I have a man who loves me” you replied, trying to hold your ground, to shield yourself from the doubt her words had sparked. She sighed, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “Etí mẹ́ta ò yẹ orí; èèyàn mẹ́ta ò lè dúró ní méjì- méjì..” (Three ears do not suit the head; three people cannot stand in pairs). Her words lingered, a veiled warning about the importance of doing things the right way. But you dismissed it, choosing to focus on the life ahead of you, on the marriage and family you believed you were building with Yomi.
You threw yourself into planning the wedding, envisioning every detail, every moment, from the colours to the songs that would play. You chose a traditional wedding, understanding that your church wouldn’t perform the ceremony with the pregnancy. But even that didn’t dampen your spirits. You were set to marry the man you loved, to start a family. Your heart brimmed with hope, despite the lingering doubts you tried to ignore.
If you haven’t read the first part, please do… the title is the same…