Ray's explanation about "owing me a favour" as the reason for his unwavering kindness and attention didn't quite sit well with me. It sounded more like a shield than a genuine reason, but I decided not to press further. The growing tension around him was palpable, and I didn't want to push him into a corner.
Once he seemed to relax, he surprised me by throwing his own question into the air, catching me slightly off guard.
"Do you mind sharing with me why you decided to quit your marriage? What happened?" he asked, his voice soft yet curious. I had been expecting the question eventually but hadn't exactly prepared myself to answer it.
I exhaled slowly, gathering my thoughts. "Nothing specific happened right before I left," I began, choosing my words carefully. "But I had been feeling very suffocated, unfulfilled, imprisoned, and miserable for a long time. It wasn't one thing, Ray. It was a collection of things - a slow chipping away of myself over the years. One morning, I woke up, and it just hit me. If I didn't leave right then, I might never get another chance. So, without much of a plan, I packed a few personal belongings and walked out."
I finished with a small sigh, as if releasing a fragment of the burden that still lingered in my chest.
Ray looked genuinely distressed, his eyes filled with empathy. "I'm so sorry, Eva. I didn't know you felt that way. You always seemed so happy, content, and resilient by the way you carried yourself."
"Really?" I asked, my lips curving into a sad smile. "Well, I don't know how I managed it. I endured several years of emotional and psychological abuse. But let's not dwell on that now," I added, waving the memories away as if dismissing a dark cloud. "It's not something I'm ready to talk about in detail yet. My focus now is on healing, getting fit, and finally pursuing all those dreams I've been holding on to for far too long."
I smiled, a genuine smile this time, and Ray returned it.
"Do you mind sharing one of those dreams with me?" he asked, a glint of curiosity and encouragement in his eyes.
"Oh, I have so many," I replied, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of them. "I've been considering a career in mental health counseling - specifically sex therapy," I said with a wink, noticing how his ears turned a little red. Did he just blush?
"And," I continued, my voice becoming more animated, "I want to travel the world, see new places, interact with different people, and learn new things. I want to live life on my terms for once."
I went on and on, sharing my dreams and goals, my voice gaining momentum with each word. Ray listened attentively, occasionally laughing or asking thoughtful questions. His interest in my aspirations felt genuine, and his encouragement only fueled my determination.
That evening, over light dishes and casual chatter, we talked for hours. We laughed like two old friends, reminisced about life, and even teased each other. I must confess, talking to Ray was easy - like talking to someone who truly understood me. He wasn't just mature in his foresight; he had an uncanny ability to make me feel seen and heard.
For the first time in a long while, I felt light, hopeful, and even a little giddy. Life was beginning to show its brighter hues, and I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the road ahead wouldn't be as lonely as I had once feared.
When Ray finally left that night, I drifted into the most peaceful sleep I had experienced in a long time. It was the kind of sleep that left me feeling refreshed and renewed, like a newborn child. The next morning, I woke up to a text from him.
"I need to return to Abuja today for a crucial business meeting," the message read. "But remember, I'm just a text or call away if you need anything."
I couldn't help but smile as I read his words, feeling a warmth spread through me like sunshine. It was then I realized something odd - I didn't even know what business Ray was involved in. Amid everything, I had never thought to ask. I decided not to inquire over text, though. This was a conversation better saved for when I saw him again.
Instead, I replied with a heartfelt message, thanking him once more for everything he had done for me and wishing him a safe trip back to Abuja.
After a leisurely breakfast and a warm shower, my phone pinged again. This time, it wasn't just a text - it was also a credit alert. My eyes widened in surprise as I read his message accompanying the transaction.
"Please don't refuse my small gift. Get something fun with it and be happy!" His message ended with a love emoji that sent a flutter through my chest.
I wasn't expecting him to send me money, and for a moment, I debated whether to acknowledge it. The last time I tried to refuse his generosity, it had seemed to hurt him, so I decided against doing that again. Instead, I resolved to make good use of his thoughtful gift.
Over the next week, I took deliberate steps to reinvent myself. First, I registered at a gym, determined to regain my physical strength and stamina. With a portion of the money, I bought gym tunics and casual outfits, as I had left home with only a few basic clothes. Next, I indulged in quality skincare products, giving my skin the nourishment it deserved.
The transformation didn't stop there. I scheduled an appointment at a local salon and treated myself to a full hair revamp. By the time the week was over, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me in the mirror. My skin glowed, my hair was sleek and styled, and there was a new confidence in my stride.
I felt alive - vibrant in ways I hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just about the physical changes; it was about rediscovering myself, embracing the woman I wanted to be.
Ray's generosity had sparked this change, and while I didn't want to depend on anyone else for my happiness, I couldn't deny the impact of his thoughtfulness. As I admired my reflection, I made a silent vow to keep moving forward, to keep investing in myself - not just for him or anyone else, but for me.
During the weekend, my phone buzzed with an unexpected call from an old uncle, someone I hadn't spoken to in a while. His tone was accusatory from the start.
"Your husband called me," he said sharply. "He's complaining about how you abandoned him and the house. He's threatening to file a case for your arrest!"
"Arrest? For what exactly?" I asked, baffled.
"He says you left without his permission, and now he's planning to involve the authorities," he explained, his tone heavy with judgment.
I could feel my chest tighten, but I forced myself to remain calm. This was absurd, even by his standards. Instead of engaging in a long, drawn-out conversation, I politely excused myself. "Uncle, I'll handle it. Thank you for letting me know," I said before ending the call.
The following day, I decided it was time to take control of the situation. No more playing defense. I reached out to a lawyer and scheduled a meeting. Sitting across from her, I felt a sense of empowerment as I laid everything on the table.
"I want to file for divorce," I said firmly.
She listened carefully, offered her guidance, and within days, the divorce petition was prepared and sent out. I knew this would stir up trouble, but I was ready to face whatever came next.
As expected, Tessy, my eldest daughter, called me not long after. Her tone was sharp and disapproving.
"Mom, why are you doing this? Dad is upset, and everything is falling apart at home. Why can't you just come back and sort this out?"
Her words stung, but I refused to let her guilt-trip me. I interrupted her mid-rant. "Look, Tessy, I don't know when you decided to become your father's advocate, but let me make this clear. This is my life, not yours. I suggest you mind your business, focus on your own life, and stay out of an issue that's older than you and far more complex than you can understand."
My words were harsh, but I needed her to understand that this was a boundary she couldn't cross. For a moment, there was silence on her end. Then, without another word, she hung up.
Before the call ended, though, she had mentioned something that tugged at my heart. Uzoma, my youngest daughter, and Felix, my only son, had returned home from school and were deeply troubled by my absence.
That part hit me hard. I could picture their young faces, confused and hurt by everything happening around them. My chest ached at the thought of them struggling to understand, but I knew this was not the time to go back.
I needed to stand my ground, focus on myself, and heal. When the time was right, I would reach out to Uzoma and Felix, and I would explain everything to them. For now, I had to trust that they would eventually understand why I needed to take this step for myself.
The days ahead weren't going to be easy, but I was determined to reclaim my life, one step at a time.