Lifestyle

What came after wasn't easy. People talk about "choosing yourself" as if it's simple. Like waking up one day, deciding to leave, and everything falling into place. They don't tell you about the guilt. The voices in your head that sound like your mother, your pastor, your aunties: "You didn't try hard enough. Marriage is work. You're giving up too easily. What will people say?" They don't tell you about the loneliness. How quiet your house becomes when you're no longer perform

I was the perfect wife. At least, that's what I told myself every morning as I woke up at 5 a.m. to prepare his breakfast before he left for work. That's what I believed when I smiled through another family gathering where his mother critiqued my jollof rice seasoning. That's what I clung to when I swallowed my own dreams to make room for his. I had the checklist, you see. The one every Nigerian girl gets handed at some point - by her mother, her aunties, the women at church,

People used to point at us and say, “Ah, love still dey.” Same compound gist, same Sunday rice, same small arguments about which garri is best for soaking. We were the couple that felt like tradition. Then one day, I confirmed the thing I was never supposed to confirm. I did not stumble. I gathered receipts. Dates. Screenshots. Locations. My heart already knew, but evidence has its own kind of peace. When I laid it out, he did not look sorry. He looked offended that the curta