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This is Oyin’s story, as told to Boluwatife
I experienced the worst heartbreak of my life without warning on a random Tuesday afternoon in 2024.
I was lying on my bed, absent-mindedly scrolling through Instagram. I had just finished replying to a work email and decided to “rest my eyes.”. Then a familiar smile stopped my thumb mid-air.
It was Kunle, my boyfriend of six years, on BellaNaija’s Instagram page.
The caption read something like: “Love is sweet! #KunleWeds…” I didn’t read the rest at first. I was too busy staring at the pictures.
There he was in a cream agbada, leaning into a woman I had never seen before. She was wearing a matching cream aso-oke, laughing into his chest like she had every right to be there.
I blinked and refreshed the page. Surely my eyes were playing tricks on me. But the post was right there, no matter how many times I refreshed it. I zoomed in on his face to be sure I wasn’t mistaken. I wasn’t. It was Kunle.
My Kunle. My “we’re-getting-engaged-before-the-year-ends” Kunle.
I even checked the date, as if it might have been from years ago, and I somehow missed it. It was posted twenty minutes earlier, and already, comments were pouring in. “So beautiful!” “God, when?”
I forwarded the link to his Instagram DM without typing anything. I didn’t trust myself to add words. The message delivered, and I waited hours, staring at my screen at intervals for the “seen” icon.
When it was almost midnight, and he still hadn’t seen the DM, I called him over the phone. I called three times, but he didn’t pick up. I went to check his WhatsApp and saw that his profile picture had disappeared. He had blocked me. Confused, I went to his Instagram account, and it said, “User not found.”
That was when the confusion began to turn into something colder. Because if this was a misunderstanding, why was he blocking me everywhere?
And if it wasn’t a misunderstanding, then who had I been in his life for the past six years?
****
This story is culled from a weekly series exclusive to the Zikoko Daily Newsletter. Subscribe here for more stories like this.
Life comes at you really fast.
You read stories of people sharing how they discovered that their partners were seeing someone else, and you never think that can happen to you. I never thought that could one day be me. Yet, here I was.
The worst part is that we were fine.
Kunle and I were one of the most steady and comfortable couples you’d ever meet. We hardly fought and shared the same sense of humour. Whenever we hung out with mutual friends, we almost always ended up driving everyone to fits of laughter because we were always cracking jokes.
We met at a mutual friend’s convocation celebration. It was also my convocation, and I’d gone to this friend’s canopy to take pictures with him. In the confusion of arranging to take pictures, Kunle mistakenly spilt his Chapman on my white dress and wouldn’t stop apologising.
He asked for my number to “dryclean the dress,” and I told him I would consider it. He texted the next morning: “How’s the dress? And how’s the girl inside it?” It was corny, but I loved it.
Somewhere between late-night calls and weekend visits, he became my person.
Six years is not a small thing. It was years of inside jokes, of learning the exact tone of his voice when he’s stressed and falling asleep together over the phone. I even met his family, and his sister often called me “our in-law.”
Earlier that year, in March, we went ring shopping. We often talked about our future and, over the years, had both agreed that 2024/2025 was the most realistic period for us to settle down. By then, we would have worked for a while and saved up some money.
So, when Kunle had asked that we visit a ring shop so he’d know my preferences, I thought, “This is it. The proposal will happen this year.”
That was in March. The BellaNaija post went up in October.
How did he go from planning a future with me to getting ready to marry someone else in seven months? How come I had no idea?
I needed to find answers, so I did the first thing that came to mind.
****
Since Kunle had blocked me everywhere on social media and even phone calls, I did the next best thing: I started spam-calling him.
I spent a week calling him every day with different numbers. Once he picked up and realised it was me, he’d block the new number too. I sent him several messages, pleading for him to explain what was happening. When he didn’t respond, I resorted to sending curses. He didn’t reply to those either.
I also tried catching him unawares at his house, but somehow, he was never there on the few occasions I went. When all my attempts at reaching him failed, I turned to his sister, Bimpe.
Bimpe and I were somewhat close. We had hung out together without him a few times, and I often gifted her on her birthday and on random occasions. She had even once joked that she’d choose me in the divorce if Kunle messed up. If someone had answers for me, it’d be Bimpe.
When she picked up, I didn’t waste time. “Bimpe, what is going on?”
She didn’t need to ask me what I meant. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh and swore she didn’t know the girl either. She said Kunle had just started bringing her home a few months back. At first, the family thought it was nothing serious. Then suddenly it was introductions and wedding plans.
“A few months?” I remember repeating, like maybe if I said it slowly, it would hurt less.
Bimpe said she didn’t know how to tell me. That it wasn’t her place, and she kept hoping Kunle would explain it himself.
She “didn’t know how to tell me.”
After six years of being with her brother and regularly visiting her family’s house. I had a cordial relationship with everyone in that family, and yet no one saw it fit to tell me the truth.
In the “months” since he started bringing this other woman home, I still visited them a few times and ate with them. I can’t imagine that they were smiling with me while actively planning a wedding behind my back.
I asked Bimpe a question, “When he brought her home, did you mention me to her?”
She didn’t say anything in response. That silence told me everything I needed to know. No one had fought for me. I had simply overestimated my place in that family for all those years.
I hung up, and the tears finally came. I cried so much, my eyes were bloodshot. I had to take sick leave from work for days. I didn’t feel like myself for weeks; it felt like my heart was breaking several times a day.
And then, in the middle of that heartbreak, I made a decision that shocked even me.
I decided I would attend the wedding.
****
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My friends and siblings tried to talk me out of attending the wedding.
They kept saying, “Oyin, what do you want to do there?” “Is the heartbreak not enough? Do you want to embarrass yourself on top of all that?”
I didn’t have a clean answer for them, and I still don’t really know why I went. I guess a part of me wanted to see it with my own eyes, to confirm it wasn’t a bad dream. Also, if anyone needed to be embarrassed, it should be Kunle, not me.
So, I made my findings and discovered the wedding date and venue. I bought new outfits, had my hair done and even hired a professional make-up artist. I arrived at that wedding looking like a million dollars.
When I walked into the church, I felt eyes on me almost immediately. Some of our mutual friends attended the wedding as well, including some of Kunle’s coworkers who knew we were dating. I’m sure the gossip was hot that day. Everyone probably expected me to create a scene and give them even more to talk about. Me, I was just there to enjoy myself.
Kunle saw me just as the ceremony started, and his face changed. The confidence disappeared, and his smile tightened. He looked like a man waiting for chaos. I didn’t give him any.
After the church programme ended, I followed everyone to the reception hall. I even greeted his mum politely and hugged Bimpe. Both of them were just staring at me as if I’d grown two heads.
I found my seat, and when the food came, I ate to my fill. I must have stopped every usher that walked by to collect a new plate of food and small chops. When it was time to dance the couple in, I joined the crowd and danced as if there were a prize for the best dancer.
At this point, even the bride had noticed something was off. I’m not sure if she knew me or if she just noticed the way Kunle was staring at me with fear in his eyes. Both of them were uncomfortable and didn’t dance as much as they should have. They just signalled the MC to stop the music and continue with the rest of the programme.
Throughout the rest of the day, Kunle kept stealing glances at me while I tried as much as possible to avoid his eyes. Honestly, despite my outward bravado, my heart was breaking inside, and it took everything in me not to break down and cry. When I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I left the party and went home.
That night, he sent me one message. “I’m sorry.”
Just that. I stared at it for a long time. Then I put my phone down and went to sleep.
****
It’s been over a year since all this happened.
On the outside, I look fine. I go to work and laugh with my friends, but I’m still nursing pain in my heart.
Betrayal changes a person’s life so much. I don’t believe in promises anymore. When a man tells me he likes me, my mind immediately starts producing imaginary red flags. Instead of feeling flattered by compliments, my chest tightens, and I get scared.
I hate that about myself. I used to love freely. Now I analyse everything, and it’s exhausting.
Sometimes I replay the last year of our relationship, looking for clues I missed. Was she already there when we went ring shopping? Were there late replies and “busy weekends” that I ignored?
I don’t think I’ll pursue a relationship anytime soon. Trust feels like a weird concept, and I don’t even trust my own judgment anymore.
The scariest part isn’t that he betrayed me. It’s that I’m not sure I’ll ever be the girl who believed in forever so easily again.
I don’t know which loss hurts more.
*Names have been changed to protect the subject’s identity.
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