I’m a single mom of a 7-year-old. My relationship with my baby’s dad didn’t end well due to a lot of circumstances and family issues. We dated for 6 years before we finally broke up and became co-parents. Although he was a good person, the situation at hand got hold of him, and he couldn’t handle it well, making him turn to something else. After I moved out of his house, I suffered before finding my footing, squatting from one place to another before I finally got my apartment, then I started my traveling process. God made it work, and I left Nigeria with my daughter. When I got here, I got an apartment, and I had a flatmate; we were really cool. My daughter’s father has been present in her life, so they frequently communicate. My flatmate became my best friend because she was so caring and there for me. Fast forward to two years later, my baby daddy moved to the UK and the exact same city as mine. At first, I wasn’t really happy, but I shrugged the feeling off so that I wouldn’t look like a witch or I didn’t want something good to happen to him.
I set a lot of healthy boundaries, and he respected them. He has never been to my house, the same way I have never been to his place; we only meet outside or in a park if he wants to see my daughter or if she wants to spend the weekend with him. Sometimes last year, I noticed my friend who is also my flatmate started seeing someone, the late-night calls and you know the excitement from the relationship was all over the air. I jokingly asked; she said she wanted to be private, and I respected her business. And I was so occupied with my own life that I had no reason to pry into her life, but it was awkward because she always talked about everything the guy did for her but no name or picture, as she would have shown me pictures or mentioned the person’s name and all. I knew something was off, but I knew I would still know. After so many months, my flatmate came home with an engagement ring, and you know I was happy for her. Only for her to say that her boyfriend is my baby daddy. I felt numb and walked away; she got defensive and said she knew I would react that was why they hid it from me.
I was pained; I won’t lie, but I kept my cool and told her all was well. So they started wedding plans, a virtual introduction was done, and I intentionally left home that day and gave her an excuse, as I wanted to save my face with my baby daddy’s family. The wedding was picked, and she insisted I come to Nigeria with them. She begged me to be her chief bridesmaid, that was the humiliating part for me. I just smiled. She said if I was happy for them, I would agree. I said, “No wahala.” We got to Nigeria, and I was bitter because that could have been me. I gisted with one of my friends, and she told me not to worry. We visited somewhere, and I was ready to make sure the wedding didn’t hold. To cut the long story short, she died on the eve of her wedding night after the bridal shower. I feel so bad for her parents, but I don’t feel bad for her. I’m back in the UK with my baby daddy still grieving. Sometimes you don’t cover other people’s stuff because you might not live to tell the tale. I know I’m a bad person, but I don’t care.
Also Read: I Have Fallen Out of Love But If I Leave, People Will Judge Me