In 2022, Folake* (27) suddenly found herself homeless and broke after her long-time boyfriend ended their relationship. In this story, she shares how the breakup was her wake-up call to make better financial decisions and what rebuilding has looked like.
As Told To Boluwatife
One night in August 2022, I tapped my boyfriend, Tunde*, awake, ready for war.
When he opened his eyes, I presented him with evidence I’d painstakingly gathered over two weeks: screenshots of chats, selfies and voice notes to prove his infidelity.
I’d discovered he was cheating on me with multiple women by chance. One random girl had messaged me on Snapchat: “Hi dear, sorry to bother you, but are you dating Tunde?”
I laughed at first because I knew what that meant. She was coming to me “woman to woman” to claim she had a thing with my man.
I thought, “Surely, this babe is joking. Not my Tunde.”
Then she sent screenshots and pictures. Tons of pictures.
My blood ran cold. My chest was tight. For a few hours, I convinced myself it was a prank. Then, I systematically went through his phone for weeks and saw enough to write a Tyler Perry movie.
When I confronted him that night, I expected drama, begging, maybe even tears. I desperately wanted him to explain and give me excuses — a reason to forgive him.
It sounds pitiful, but Tunde was my world. We’d been together for four years and lived together for three. I just wanted us to go back to how things were. Instead, Tunde looked me dead in the eye and said, “So, you’ve found out. What do you want me to do?”
I thought my ears weren’t working. I asked him, “Is that what you’re supposed to say?”
He calmly said, “You’re the reason I do all this rubbish, Folake. You’re too controlling. Maybe we should take a break to figure out what we really want.”
I couldn’t say a word. Four years gone, just like that.
The Breakup That Almost Broke Me
Two days later, Tunde asked if I could “give him space” for a while. That was code for “pack your things.”
The statement triggered a realisation that pushed my heartbreak to the background: I had absolutely nothing.
Nowhere to go, no property and no money.
I’d moved in with Tunde immediately after uni, and had essentially built my life around him. Everything I had was ours. He was the breadwinner, but I poured all my heart and soul into the relationship.
I thought we were “building together,” so I didn’t think twice about channelling whatever small money I made as a beginner makeup artist to what I believed was our home: taking care of food, buying fuel, and getting Tunde gifts. Sometimes, I even lent him money that I never got back.
I thought we were a team, so I never worried. I didn’t even have savings of my own because, why would I? Tunde handled everything I needed. I honestly didn’t think I lacked anything.
The breakup was a wake-up call.
I’m ashamed to say I begged Tunde a little. He cheated on me, but I was the one doing the pleading. I begged him to consider our love and let us work things out. When he didn’t budge, I asked him to give me adequate time to get a place to stay. He refused.
I cried for almost 24 hours straight.
I honestly thought my life was over. If not for my religion, I would’ve considered ending it all.
Tunde and I rarely had major fights. He’d cheated before, but swore never to do it again, and I trusted him. I didn’t check his phones or keep him from going out. He even spent whole weekends with his guys. So, his “control” allegations were very strange. It was like he just wanted an excuse to send me away.
In the end, I wiped my tears, packed three years of my life and makeup tools into three travel boxes, and moved into my friend Ronke’s one-room apartment.
On the day I left, I had just ₦15k in my bank account.
The Financial Reality Check
For the first time in a long time, I was broke.
The worst thing was that I couldn’t even call home for help. I had fought with my parents and sister over this same guy because they didn’t like his job and wanted me to leave him.
Even though we still kept in touch, I wasn’t as close to my family as I had been before, due to their constant complaints about Tunde.
I knew telling them about my situation would only lead to them mocking me. So, I decided to face my struggles on my own.
My only saving graces were Ronke and my handiwork. My world might have scattered, but at least I had a skill that could feed me and a place to lay my head.
So, I started rebuilding.
It was hard. I had initially told Ronke I’d squat with her for three months. My thinking was that I’d hustle for as many makeup jobs as possible, gather money and rent my own place. But it wasn’t as easy as I imagined.
Firstly, I didn’t have a shop. I’d only learnt makeup to have a skill, not because I wanted to make it a business. My dream business was to open a fashion store, which Tunde had promised to set up. So, up until I became homeless, my clients were the girlfriends of Tunde’s friends who knew what I did. They came to the house when they needed my services and sometimes gave me ₦5k or ₦10k as a thank you.
As a result, I didn’t have an actual customer base. I had to start afresh, opening a business page on social media and beginning to market my work. I didn’t get any clients for four months. It was even more difficult because I could only offer home services. I didn’t have a shop where people could walk in. Most of the time, I just did makeup for my friend so I could take videos and post them online.
Also, when I managed to find clients, I couldn’t just keep all the money. I had to contribute to the household’s expenses and support my friend, as she was essentially feeding me.
I ended up squatting with my friend for almost two years. I don’t know why I thought I could manage to stand alone in three months. Maybe living with Tunde and relying fully on him made me blind to the financial realities of surviving in Nigeria.
During those two years with Ronke, I was in a constant cycle of hustle, settling bills and trying to save money. Yes, that saving I didn’t do before? No one told me to take it seriously.
Ronke — God bless her for me — didn’t pressure or make me feel like an inconvenience, but I knew I had to actively plan my finances so I never had to be stranded again.
I learnt to follow a budget for the first time in my adult life. Whenever I got paid for a job, I divided the money into two: half to my savings account and half to my spending account. I didn’t even spend the half in my account on myself, I used it to settle bills at my friend’s house and buy tools to upgrade my business.
In 2023, I found a hairstylist who owned a salon around Ronke’s area and begged her to give me a small space in her shop for my clients. She agreed and let me pay her ₦5k weekly for the space. That’s how I got a walk-in “shop”.
Fortunately for me, the hairstylist’s clients started to patronise me too. I also began getting returning clients from social media.
By 2024, I’d saved ₦350k, and my sister borrowed me ₦100k extra so I could rent my own one-room apartment.
The apartment felt like I was taking my first deep breath in two years.
Starting Over from Scratch
Since I cleared my savings for rent, I had to live in that room with no furniture for the first six months. I didn’t even have a mattress. But I slept on the floor with pride and happiness.
It wasn’t the soft life I was used to. No AC or Netflix like in Tunde’s house, but this was my own place. No one could wake up one day and send me away.
Gradually, I began to turn the apartment into a home. I bought a mattress, plastic chairs and a few kitchen utensils. I started feeling proud of myself again. There were times when I missed the comfort of relying on Tunde, but I had to fight through.
Eventually, my peace of mind came back. I realised I used to treat love like a financial plan. I gave my stability to a man and called it a partnership.
Now, I was building something real by myself.
I still don’t have everything I need, but I’ve come a long way since 2022. I’m not rich, but I’m stable. I have ₦200k in savings and no debt. I already have my rent saved somewhere. I’m even planning to get my own shop soon.
Last month, Tunde texted me. Something about “catching up” and “missing what we had.”
I didn’t even open the chat. I archived it and went back to my life. God forbid I return to what almost took my life.
*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
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