I Wore Customized Waist Beads for a Man Who Already Had a Bride

I met him in July 2024.

He is a nurse living in the UK, but when our paths crossed, he was in Ghana on a short visit. We met, and within a few days, he was gone again. Just like that. In and out of my life so quickly, or so I thought.

Honestly, when I met him, I had no plans of falling in love again. I was tired. Not just tired, but emotionally exhausted. The word relationship alone used to make my heart race in fear. I had been through enough to know how quickly love can turn into confusion and pain.

So I was guarded.

By the time he openly showed interest in me, I was already gone. Distance was never a barrier between us. We were miles apart, yes, but it never felt that way. Every morning, we spoke before stepping into our day. At night, we unwound by listening to each other breathe through our exhaustion. On days when work frustrated me or life felt heavy, he would just sit there on video call, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

I was updated on every little thing he did. Cute pictures. Random selfies. Short videos of him cooking, stepping out, visiting places. As I write this, almost 40 percent of my gallery is still him. His face. His activities. His life. I carried him in my phone like proof that I was loved.

When he texted me about the small things bothering him, I was there. When his microwave stopped working, I listened. When he complained that people were using his land in Ghana as a car park, I offered suggestions. Communication between us was full. One hundred percent. That is what I believed. I hardly overthought anything. I had no reason to suspect him.

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In return for what I thought was faithfulness and love, I gave him all of me. I held nothing back. I even customized waist beads with his name scripted into them. It was my way of saying I am yours. Even from afar, I am keeping myself for you. I am loyal to you.

He knew about the beads. When I got them, I sent him pictures. When I wore them, I sent him a video. He teased me and laughed, saying, “Look at you.” We shared intimate moments over the phone. Things I had never done before, I did with him. Sometimes he would send a video and ask me to do the same. And I did. We made love over the phone whenever he wanted, or whenever I wanted. It felt safe. It felt mutual. It felt like us.

Until January.

That was when he started getting angry over things that made no sense. It was unlike him to go two days without hearing from me, yet suddenly he could go that long without calling. My calls went unanswered. My texts were ignored. Sometimes he would pick up and quickly hang up. No updates. No pictures. No sweet check-ins.

One day he casually mentioned he was going to London after work. I asked what was happening in London because he usually told me his plans in advance. He said he had some days off and was going to Ike. I said okay. I did not want to seem suspicious.

I did not hear from him again until the next day. Very unusual. The following morning I called, and we spoke for about an hour on video like nothing was wrong.

But something was wrong.

His attitude began to affect me deeply. I could not eat. I could not concentrate at work. I started losing weight. When you make someone your everything and they begin to withdraw, it can feel like you are losing your mind. That was exactly what was happening to me. I was unraveling.

On the 16th of January, I called him and overheard background noise. People were speaking Twi. I distinctly heard someone mention Adenta, and another voice saying, “Let’s go to Adenta,” while someone else mentioned Birmingham.

I asked him about it. He said his cousin had come to visit and they were catching up.

The next day, the 17th, I had this terrible feeling. I told my best friend that something was not right. I said I did not know what was wrong, but I was not okay. That day he did not answer any of my calls.

The following morning, the only message he sent was, “I will call you this morning, okay.” The call never came. Not in the morning. Not in the afternoon. Not until evening, and even then, nothing.

On the 19th, I heard from the grapevine that he had been in town for the past two weeks and had gotten married over the weekend. It sounded unreal. Like a badly written movie where I was the main character. I almost expected to turn around and see cameras behind me. It did not feel possible.

I sent him the wedding invitation card that was circulating. He replied that his name was common, that it could be someone else. He dismissed it so easily.

I was confused. Deeply confused. So I called the RSVP number on the invitation. A woman answered. I told her I just wanted to confirm something. She asked for his name. I mentioned it. She asked for his middle name. I mentioned that too. She paused and said, “Wow. Do you have his picture? Can you send it to me on WhatsApp? I am confused as well.”

I sent the picture. She asked if I had any other proof. I sent screenshots of our chats.

After a few minutes, she confirmed it was the same person. The bride was her sister.

She kept saying, “Wow, wow, wow,” and I ended the call because I could not breathe.

Shortly after, he texted me, “Where are you?” and “What are you doing?”

I replied. The first thing I typed was, “Yaw, why?”

He replied, “You know I love you.”

Love.

He asked where I got the card from. I asked him if that was really important right now. He said yes because he had a lot to say. “Don’t believe whatever people are saying.”

I told him I was lost. I was in denial. I needed him to explain.

He begged me to come and see him. I was advised not to go. They said he would lie. They said I would leave more confused than before.

But I went anyway.

I went because I was anxious. I was in shock. I was still hoping this was somehow a misunderstanding.

I told him if it was true, he should come wearing his ring. The next day when he came to pick me up from the terminal, there was no wedding ring on his finger.

When we finally spoke, he said he did not want to lose me, so he did not tell me. He said he had his own plans. He said family pressure forced the wedding. He claimed he had spoken to the girl and that now they knew there was someone else in the picture. He kept talking about plans that made no sense.

So I asked him, if you knew you were getting married, why were you telling me in November to choose a school in or around Birmingham so I could stay home? When my admission came, where exactly was I supposed to stay?

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He had no answer.

He just stood there, looking at my face.

And that was when it finally settled in. I had loved a man who was planning a wedding while planning a future with me.

—Heartie

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