She Was My Girlfriend Until I Saw Her In Her Landlord’s Car

I share a compound with my landlord who is a well-known businessman. We both live in two-bedroom apartments. He is hardly ever around. Sometimes he disappears for two or three months straight. When he finally shows up, it’s usually to relax and spend time with university girls.

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I moved in last year in May when his company was doing well under a big contract. Since then, I’ve seen him with at least ten different girls. They are all young, beautiful, but clearly nervous whenever they’re around him. My apartment sits right by the main gate, so I see almost everything that happens in the compound.

Then came that Thursday night, September 25th. It was around 11 p.m., and I had just returned from work. As I got out of my car to close the gate, I noticed headlights approaching. It was the landlord’s car. He had two girls with him, one in the front seat and another in the back. I opened the gate for him, closed it behind them, and walked up to greet him. But something felt strange.

The girl in the back seat couldn’t look me in the eye. The car windows were slightly tinted, and it was dark, so I couldn’t see her clearly. Regardless, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something about her felt familiar.

The next morning, I decided to trust my gut. I usually leave for work around 6:30 a.m., and I knew he’d probably drop the girls off around that time. So I waited. As soon as I heard his door open, I stepped outside.

What I saw nearly broke me. The girl in the back seat that night was my serious girlfriend. The same girl who had never once visited me since I moved into that house. She always had one excuse or another. Whenever I showed up on campus unannounced, she was either busy somewhere or nowhere to be found. I remember her roommate once told me, “Forget about Mariska and move on.”

How could I have forgotten about a woman I was investing in? I would send her thousand cedis every week for upkeep. I trusted her enough to leave my car with her whenever I travelled. I can only imagine the number of guys she’s entertained in it.

I bought her everything she wanted. Not long ago, she claimed her phone was giving her problems, a story I knew was false because I’d bought that phone brand new. Still, I was already planning to get her one of the new iPhone 17 models.

That morning, when our eyes met, she froze like she’d seen a ghost. I greeted my landlord, opened the gate for him, and pretended I’d never met Mariska before.

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Ten minutes later, her first message came in. I didn’t read it. I just blocked her. Then I blocked her mum, her brothers, and even her close friends.

Since then, she’s been calling me from different numbers every single day. I keep blocking them all. I’m a forgiving person, but this one cut deep. It feels like a spear through my heart.

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Just yesterday, her mum called me from a new number. I picked up, and politely let her talk until she finished and ended the call. My parents didn’t raise me to disrespect elders. But I once overheard this woman advising her daughter not to put all her eggs in one basket until she met the right man, all because her own husband did her dirty years ago. She has no idea I ever heard that conversation.

For some reason, I believed Mariska loved me enough not to take her mother’s advice. I was wrong. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this, it’s to never invest in a woman from a struggling home. It doesn’t end well.

—Davies

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