Secrets, Scars, and Survival: My Untold Story

EPISODE 13: I was in my third year at the NCE when I heard that one of my friends had died. Honestly, I don’t think Aunty was responsible for her death. I heard the girl was unwell, and sadly it led to her passing. We weren’t even in contact before her death due to the incident with the arrest. Right now, I’m pregnant with my third child. I’ve never had a boyfriend not even once. Aunty’s husband has been responsible for all my pregnancies. At this point, I’m no longer interested in anyone else, but him. I’d leave school anytime I wanted and come home, but I was never allowed to carry or care for any of the children I birthed. I told Aunty’s husband about this pregnancy, and we went for an abortion. I also returned to school and continued with my life until I began falling sick again. So I went home, on getting home I told Aunty’s husband, he brought in a doctor. That was when we found out I was already six months pregnant. Aunty started asking who the father was. I initially said it was my boyfriend, but when she began beating me, I confessed it was her husband. She scoffed, saying, “So you want to dash us a baby? It’s impossible for you to have a child for my husband or marry him.” I tried explaining that it was a mistake and that I wasn’t even interested in her husband, but she didn’t listen. Instead, she issued warnings and told her thugs to go retrieve my belongings from school. And just like that, I dropped out again in my final year. I was locked indoors until the day I delivered my baby. After delivery, they took the baby from me and returned me to the hotel as usual. Five days before the naming ceremony, the baby fell ill. After several tests, the doctor confirmed he reacted to the formula and needed breast milk. That’s how I was taken back home. On the day of the naming ceremony, Aunty’s husband begged me to stay in my room while the event went on. Whenever the baby cry, they would sneak him in for me to breastfeed. Now, I’ve two boys and one girl for them. Recently, there’s been tension between Aunty and her husband. He wants all his children raised together, but Aunty refuses to accept the last baby. After the naming, she’d drop him with me, claiming to outsiders that she left him with her sister. Whenever she returned from her shop, it was always one issue or the other. She kept saying the baby is a bastard and that only a DNA test could prove otherwise since she wasn’t aware of the pregnancy. When my baby was around four months old, my mother visited. Aunty had summoned her to take me back to the village with the child until he turned one. When my mother arrived, she said all sorts of things. In anger, I threatened Aunty, saying I’d expose everything they did. She simply replied that my closest friend was dead, and the other girl would never talk. I had no choice than to follow my mother back to the village, the surprising part in all of all this, is that I wasn’t even upto 23 years old. I tried calling Aunty’s husband, but his number never went through not even after I arrived in the village. So I continue my life in the village, this time my son is going to a year. I was working as a teacher in a private school and had rented an apartment close to that school. One day, surprisingly Aunty’s husband showed up at my place. He was sweet-talking me, saying things like, “Will you leave your other kids behind?” and “Forget that your Aunty is saying she paid you off.” I gave in and agreed to return with him. While we were on our way back, my mother called Aunty, who immediately warned her husband not to bring me near her house. Regardless, we still went. When we arrived, her husband told her to calm down and reassured her he wouldn't marry me but preferred they rent a separate apartment for me. They contacted an agent and secured a place for me immediately. I resumed teaching and spent my weekends learning fashion design in my new apartment. Aunty’s husband would visit often. It felt like we were married, even though we weren’t officially. One day, Aunty asked me to visit her. I went, we ate, drank together. Less than an hour after I got home, I started experiencing severe stomach pain. A neighbor rushed me to the hospital, where I was admitted for four months, I almost lost my life. When I began to recover, the doctor told me how lucky I was to survived, saying whatever I had eaten must have been poisoned. And that unfortunately, my womb is now damaged to carry any more child. He asked if I’d prefer to have it removed or turned, and I agreed to have it removed. I informed Aunty’s husband, and he was furious. He accused Aunty of poisoning me, said he feared for his own safety too. My mother called after the surgery, screaming at me over the phone, accusing me of trying to implicate her daughter. She said I was ungrateful after all she and her daughter had done for me. Then I found out the most shocking part of my life, Aunty is her daughter! I, on the other hand, is the daughter of my mum’s late friend. When Aunty was born, my mum (the real Aunty’s mother) was struggling so my mother (her late friend) decided to raise her daughter (Aunty). And shortly after she gave birth to me, she handed me over to Aunty’s mother at the hospital before passing away. After the poisoning incident, Aunty’s husband started processing our travel documents. Months after we left the hospital, we received our visas myself, him, and our little boy. We traveled abroad and two years later, we returned to get the other two kids. But Aunty had sold the house, changed their schools, and relocated to an unknown place. All efforts to find the kids failed. Now, I’m in my 30s, still living in the UK with Aunty’s husband as his wife, this time we're officially married. Life is good and despite everything, I truly love this man. *The End.*