The Cross

Episode 1

I lost my dad when I entered university, leaving my mom as my sole support. She guided me through my university journey, providing everything I needed.

During my time at university, I was in a relationship with John, a first-class graduate of Mechanical Engineering.

After graduating, my goal was to complete my Youth Service, secure a job, and marry my soulmate, John.

With assistance from my mother’s boyfriend, I landed a federal government job while John remained unemployed.

Three years later, I found myself covering John’s rent, bills, and providing him with spending money for interviews and other needs. He constantly reassured me of his undying love, which I believed wholeheartedly.

Despite my happiness in ensuring his well-being, my mother expressed doubts about John’s prospects and our future together.

Despite her concerns, I remained optimistic, reassuring her that everything would work out, and John would eventually find employment.

However, during one of our lunchtime discussions at my favorite restaurant near my office, my mom’s words echoed in my mind.

As I pondered her warnings, a stranger approached me—a tall, dark, affluent-looking man in a stylish suit and shiny blue shoes.

Episode II

I gestured for him to take a seat, and his playful demeanor instantly brought a smile to my face. We engaged in a lively conversation about our values and hobbies, exchanging numbers before parting ways.

Two months later, Donald began sending me gifts every weekend, brightening my days and giving me something to look forward to. Our chats and phone calls didn’t diminish my communication with John, but Donald’s presence made me reevaluate what I wanted in a relationship.

Donald’s attentiveness made me long for the stability and commitment I saw in him. My mother urged me to hold onto Donald and let go of John.

After a particularly hectic day at work, Donald surprised me with a dinner invitation. He instructed me to dress up and await his arrival.

I eagerly dressed in a red dress, styled my hair, adorned myself with accessories, and applied makeup, admiring my reflection in the mirror.

At precisely 8 p.m., Donald texted that he had arrived. Rushing to meet him, I found him waiting beside his sleek black G-wagon, dressed impeccably in a black suit and burgundy shoes.

His presence overwhelmed me, and his captivating fragrance enveloped me as he pulled me into a warm embrace, complimenting my appearance.

Arriving at the venue, we enjoyed a meal together, laughing and conversing. Amidst our conversation, I mustered the courage to ask Donald a favor—to help a first-class mechanical engineering graduate secure a job, someone who had been struggling for seven years.

Taken aback, Donald inquired about the person’s relationship to me, signaling the potential for deeper discussions ahead.

Episode III 

I responded, “My boyfriend,” and it felt like time paused as the words left my lips. Donald smiled, promising to look into the matter.

Sensing the awkwardness, I decided to leave promptly. Donald graciously covered the bill, escorting me to his car where he opened the door for me with a gentle hand on my waist.

Seated in the plush leather seat, I watched him settle into the driver’s seat, and we drove in silence, the radio filling the void.

Arriving at my gate, I bid him farewell and retreated to my room, seeking solace in solitude. I noticed an SMS from Donald thanking me for the evening, stirring a flutter of emotions within me.

As I prepared to respond, I noticed numerous missed calls from John. Choosing to postpone the conversation, I texted him, informing him of my exhaustion.

I called Donald to apologize for my abrupt departure, finding solace in his upbeat demeanor. Despite the awkwardness, laughter ensued, and we bid each other farewell.

Two weeks passed with no word from Donald regarding the job. I refrained from bringing it up, focusing on our conversations.

One Friday evening, still in my office attire, Donald surprised me with a call, claiming to be outside my house. Skeptical, I rushed out, surprised to see a different car awaiting me.

Engaging in light banter, Donald addressed the topic of the job offer, presenting me with a paper and a condition attached.

Perplexed, I accepted the note, watching him drive off as I retreated indoors. Opening the paper, I read the cryptic message, realizing it held a mysterious invitation for the following day at a specific location.

Episode IV 

eated on my bed, I contemplated the myriad of choices life presented. What if sacrificing my virginity—the one thing I held onto in my relationship with John—was the key to his success? Was this the sacrifice love demanded? The internal battle raged on between the conflicting voices of yes and no.

With resolve, I flashed Donald, ensuring I wouldn’t waver in my decision.

At 7 p.m., I found myself in the hotel room, awaiting Donald’s arrival. Dressed casually yet charmingly, he greeted me with warmth, promising to tread lightly knowing my virginity was at stake.

As I swallowed the bitterness of wine to mask the turmoil within, I found myself waking up to Donald’s gaze, my head pounding with regret.

His casual admission about his wife left me dumbfounded and betrayed. Snatching the letter, I dismissed him with a mix of anger and disbelief.

The offer was enticing, but the pang of regret gnawed at me, intensified by the realization of my mistake.

As I stormed out, I sought solace in John’s embrace, desperate to unload the weight of my actions. His innocent gesture melted my resolve, and I reveled in his genuine happiness.

But the guilt persisted, haunting me despite my attempts to bury it. I toyed with the idea of confessing, but the fear of losing John paralyzed me.

Finally mustering the courage, I confessed amidst a movie night at his apartment. His reaction was visceral—anger and pain etched on his face as he pushed me away, rejecting my attempts to explain.

I pleaded, begged, and cried, but John’s resolve remained unyielding. Cast out and broken, I lingered outside his door, futilely seeking reconciliation.

The next day, I watched him leave for work, his weary eyes betraying the pain we both felt. My heart shattered as he drove off, leaving me alone with the weight of my decisions.

Begging for respite, I called in sick, retreating to my bed, consumed by a torrent of tears and regret.

As I stared at the ceiling, grappling with the reality of my loss, the question lingered: how could I go on without him?

Episode V 

Despair engulfed me as I contemplated a life without John—maybe death would offer solace from the agony of loss.

Losing everything—our love, the sacrifices made—felt like a cruel twist of fate. He was my first love, and the thought of life without him was unbearable. I yearned for someone to wake me from this nightmare.

After two weeks of solitude, my mom persuaded me to attend a birthday party, hoping to lift my spirits. Reluctantly, I adorned myself for the occasion, hoping for a brief respite from my anguish.

At the party, a familiar scent filled the air, drawing my attention to a figure entering the venue—a figure I knew all too well. My heart sank as I watched John arrive with another woman, his presence causing a tidal wave of pain and despair.

I tried to compose myself, but the anguish was overwhelming. Before I knew it, I collapsed, my body unable to withstand the emotional turmoil.

Awakening in the hospital, the world spun around me, mirroring the chaos within. I remained hospitalized for two days, prescribed Celexa to manage the stress, with strict instructions to avoid further emotional strain.

Returning home, I felt disoriented and vulnerable. The pain in my stomach mirrored the ache in my heart, compounded by feelings of insecurity and inadequacy.

I found myself consumed by jealousy, comparing myself to the woman by John’s side. In her presence, I felt like a mere shadow of my former self, plagued by doubts and insecurities.

Episode VI 

Living each day became a struggle, a constant battle against the pain of losing John.

I found myself drawn to his Facebook page, torturing myself with glimpses of his life with the woman who had replaced me. Tears stained my pillow night after night, a silent testament to my heartache.

His absence on WhatsApp signaled the finality of our relationship, his decision to block me a stark reminder of our severed connection.

Gradually, I learned to navigate life without him, stumbling through each day like a child learning to walk. The pain became a familiar companion, a relentless reminder of the void he left behind.

A year later, amidst the monotony of a television program, my mother’s voice pierced the air in a flurry of excitement.

Rushing out, I beheld John standing before me, a bouquet of flowers in hand. His casual attire and warm smile stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me.

Though every fiber of my being longed to collapse into his arms, I remained composed, determined to show strength in the face of adversity.

Approaching my mother, I requested the opportunity to address the situation, bracing myself for her disapproval.

Her words cut through the air like a knife, a stark reminder of the obstacles standing in the way of our reconciliation. Yet, despite her admonition, I was determined to confront John and seek closure once and for all.

Episode VII 

As the weight of my mother’s words settled upon me, I grappled with the enormity of the decision before me.

“How can I bounce him out, Mom?” I pleaded, my voice trembling with uncertainty. “He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. How can I let him stay with another woman?”

Tears flowed freely as I poured out my heart to my mother, revealing the anguish I had endured in silence for the past year.

Her disapproving shake of the head only deepened my despair, leaving me feeling utterly lost and alone.

Yet, in that moment of vulnerability, John’s presence offered a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

With trembling hands and a heart heavy with emotion, I uttered a simple plea: “Hug me, please.”

But his response surpassed all expectations, as he knelt before me, presenting a dazzling diamond ring and asking for my hand in marriage.

Words failed me as a whirlwind of emotions threatened to engulf me. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably as I clung to him, desperate for the reassurance of his touch.

The sudden rush of joy was tempered by a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that something was amiss.

As my mother looked on, her words a cautionary reminder of the gravity of our decision, I found myself torn between euphoria and doubt.

But amidst the uncertainty, John’s indifferent demeanor sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a flicker of fear within me.

Despite my misgivings, I said yes, allowing him to slide the ring onto my finger.

As we retreated indoors, an unsettling feeling lingered in the air, a silent harbinger of the challenges that lay ahead.

Though I couldn’t articulate it then, I sensed that the man standing before me was not the same man I had once loved.

Episode VIII 

This John who proposed was different. His aura exuded confidence, his polished appearance spoke of success, and every gesture hinted at a life of luxury. As I sat by his side, serving refreshments, I couldn’t help but steal glances at my ring, feeling a surge of excitement and anticipation.

During a conversation with my mother, John expressed his desire to fast-track our wedding plans, citing his readiness for marriage and a reluctance to delay. His words filled me with elation, as if all my dreams were finally coming true. With him, I felt like a winner, as if the pains of the past were fading into insignificance.

As he prepared to leave, he turned to me with a compliment, igniting butterflies in my stomach and a blush on my cheeks. Holding onto his waist, I gazed into his eyes, feeling a rush of emotions coursing through me. However, beneath the surface, I sensed a tension in his body, a hint of reservation that left me uneasy.

Attempting to loosen his embrace, he disclosed a major career change, signaling a shift in his life plans. Despite the unexpected news, I couldn’t help but feel proud and excited about our future together. With hugs and kisses, he departed, leaving me to revel in the prospect of our impending wedding.

That night, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I slept soundly, my dreams filled with visions of our happy future together. The next morning, as I went about my chores, the sparkle of my ring served as a constant reminder of the love and happiness that awaited me.

As the days passed, our communication flourished, with heartfelt messages exchanged between us. Before I knew it, the day of our wedding arrived, and I stood before him, ready to embark on a new journey as his wife, filled with hope and excitement for the years ahead.

Episode IX 

Our wedding day unfolded like a fairy tale. I felt like royalty, beaming with joy from ear to ear as I walked down the aisle. John’s wealth was on full display, evident in every detail of the lavish ceremony – from the opulent hall decorations to the exquisite food, gifts, and fine wine. It was a day I had always dreamed of, and it surpassed all expectations.

After the festivities, we retired to our hotel room, where I was greeted by a trail of petals leading to the bed, adorned with chocolate, cake, and wine. My heart swelled with gratitude and excitement as I turned to John, who stood behind me with a gentle smile.

As I moved closer to him, ready to embrace the night ahead, he brushed my hand off his chest and uttered a simple “Enjoy.” Confusion flickered in my mind, but I shrugged it off, assuming he was simply preparing a surprise.

While I freshened up in the bathroom, anticipation bubbled within me, and I eagerly awaited John’s return to bed. But as the minutes turned into hours, his absence became unsettling. Curiosity getting the best of me, I slipped into my nightgown and wool slippers, quietly stepping out to find him.

Peering around the corner, I spotted him engrossed in a phone call, his back turned to me. With a pang of guilt, I approached him silently, not wanting to intrude on his privacy but craving the comfort of his embrace. Oh, how I trusted him with all my heart, never suspecting deceit in his actions.

Episode X 

As I drew nearer to him, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks – he was engrossed in a video call with a naked woman on our wedding day. My heart sank as I watched him, oblivious to my presence, conversing with her as if I didn’t exist.

Despite my own beauty and worth, I couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy. The sight of him calling that fair lady, completely consumed in their conversation, shattered me to the core. Quietly, I retreated to our room, allowing the tears to flow freely.

Anger, pain, and despair consumed me. I longed to confront him, to demand answers, but fear held me back. The thought of facing the possibility of divorce, of dredging up painful memories, paralyzed me.

I lay on the bed, engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, my heart heavy with betrayal. Eventually, exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted into a fitful sleep, clinging to my pillow as if it were my only solace.

The next day, I made a conscious decision to bury the events of the previous night, to avoid the confrontation that threatened to unravel our fragile marriage. I silently endured his distant demeanor, his indifference to my pain.

Months passed, and the chasm between us only grew wider. Despite my efforts to reignite the spark between us, my husband remained cold and distant. We shared the same bed, yet we might as well have been worlds apart.

Desperate to salvage our relationship, I tried everything – seduction, conversation, pleading – but it was all in vain. My once vibrant life became a bitter existence, overshadowed by depression and despair.

I suffered in silence, unable to confide in my mother, knowing her disapproval of John would only exacerbate the situation. Alone and broken, I struggled to hold onto the fragments of my shattered identity, losing myself in the darkness that consumed me.

Episode XI 

This wasn’t the life I had prayed for, nor the marriage I had dreamed of. It felt like my very essence was slipping away, and I was powerless to stop it. I found myself conversing with invisible entities, teetering on the edge of madness.

One night, in a desperate attempt to connect with my husband, I turned to alcohol. As he succumbed to its effects, I adorned myself with perfume and body spray, hoping to reignite the spark between us.

Despite his initial resistance, I persisted, guiding his hand to my body. With each touch, he uttered the name “Alexandra,” a dagger to my heart. Yet, I pressed on, clinging to the hope of salvaging our relationship.

After he reached climax, he collapsed beside me, unaware of my anguish. I sought refuge in the bathroom, tears blending with the cascade of water. In despair, I whispered a silent plea for a child, a beacon of redemption in my darkness.

Summoning courage, I reached for his phone, desperate for answers. Entering “Alexandra” as the password, I unlocked a world of betrayal. His intimate exchanges, the financial transactions, the naked images – each revelation a blow to my shattered heart.

Consumed by rage and despair, I grasped a knife, poised on the brink of violence. Yet, at the sight of his peaceful slumber, a flicker of humanity stayed my hand. Sobbing uncontrollably, I unleashed my fury, the pain and betrayal driving me to madness.

As the chaos subsided, a chilling stillness enveloped us. Terrified by his motionless form, I fetched water, my trembling hands struggling to comprehend the gravity of my actions.

Episode XII




I poured him some cold water, and he jolted awake, retching before sinking back into sleep. As I surveyed the mess he’d made, a wave of misery washed over me. Tears streamed down my face as I reminisced about our past, the sacrifices I’d made, and the profound sadness that now engulfed me. Sleep eluded me, consumed by thoughts of our shattered relationship.

The next day, he awoke feeling ill and questioned what had transpired. I informed him of his excessive wine consumption, our intimacy, and subsequent vomiting. Clutching his head, he grabbed his phone and retreated from the room, leaving me to ponder his actions, imagining him reaching out to Alexandra.

Suddenly, Alexandra became my obsession. I longed to emulate her, to possess her allure and charm. Determined to salvage my marriage, I resolved to compete for my husband’s affections, convincing myself of the need to fight for his love.

I busied myself with household chores, preparing meals, and attempting to engage John in conversation, but my efforts fell flat. Despite my endeavors, he remained indifferent, oblivious to my existence. I felt increasingly vulnerable, insecure, and desperate for his approval.

Days passed in a haze of longing, yearning for his compliments, craving his affectionate touch, yet receiving only silence in return. I became a shell of my former self, uncertain of how to navigate this unfamiliar terrain. Our home felt like a foreign land, where we coexisted as strangers, our interactions tinged with an uneasy camaraderie.

Night after night, I cried myself to sleep, yearning for the joy that had once filled our lives. I longed for the independence I had relinquished at his behest, lamenting the life I now led, devoid of happiness.

Episode XIII 

Two months after our first intimate encounter, a strange sensation prompted me to take a home pregnancy test. The result was positive, and despite the tumultuous state of our relationship, I harbored a glimmer of hope that this child might mend our fractured bond.

Eager to share the news, I meticulously planned a special announcement for my husband. When he returned from work, I directed him to the dining room, where I had prepared a surprise. As he lifted the cover from his plate, revealing the message “We are going to be parents, I am pregnant!” his reaction was far from what I had anticipated.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his tone tinged with anger and disbelief.

Confusion and frustration clouded my response as I defended the validity of the news. But his reaction was cold and callous. “You will have to remove that thing,” he declared, dismissing the prospect of parenthood with disdain.

Enraged by his callousness, I lashed out, my hands meeting his cheeks with force. “You are a beast, John, a beast!” I cried, unable to contain my anguish. “Why are you doing this to me?”

As emotions boiled over, I pursued him into the room, my hands grasping desperately for some semblance of understanding. But his silence only fueled my rage, and I unleashed my fury upon him, each blow a testament to the pain and betrayal I had endured.

Amidst the chaos, his words cut through the turmoil like a knife, laying bare the truth of our fractured relationship. “I married you because I wanted to fulfill the promise I made to you,” he confessed, his voice heavy with regret. “But you broke my heart, and I can’t forgive you.”

The weight of his words crushed me, leaving me gasping for air as the gravity of his revelation sank in. My world shattered in an instant, the shards of my shattered dreams piercing my soul with each agonizing breath.

In a moment of despair, I reached for my phone, sending messages of anguish and despair to my mother and husband. Then, consumed by a darkness too profound to bear, I succumbed to the void, welcoming the oblivion that awaited.

Episode XIV 

Three weeks after my discharge from the hospital, both fortune and misfortune visited me. I lost the baby, and a diagnosis of hyperplasia led to the removal of my uterus. Devastated and broken, I sought refuge in my mother’s home, where she wasted no time in demanding that John come and retrieve his bride price. He never did.

Four years later, my mother passed away, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill. Struggling to cope with the emotional turmoil, I turned to therapy, attending sessions four times a week. Antidepressants became a constant companion as I battled to navigate the lonely landscape of my existence.

To fill the emptiness in my heart, I sought solace in acts of kindness, regularly visiting orphanages and old people’s homes. Yet, despite my efforts to find meaning and purpose in the world, the absence of love and companionship gnawed at my soul like a relentless predator.

Twelve long years have passed since I last saw or heard from John. Rumors filtered through the grapevine, suggesting he had relocated to Canada with his family, callously abandoning the remnants of our shattered relationship.

At forty-five years old, I find myself standing at the crossroads of life, burdened by the weight of regret and unfulfilled dreams. No husband to share my joys and sorrows, no children to carry on my legacy, I am but a shadow of the woman I once was.

If I could turn back the hands of time, perhaps I would choose differently. But alas, the past is immutable, and I am left to bear the consequences of my choices alone. My journey serves as a cautionary tale to the younger generation, a reminder that love, though beautiful, can exact a heavy toll if not nurtured with care.

In matters of the heart, let not passion blind you to your worth. Strive for balance and equality in your relationships, and never sacrifice your happiness for the sake of another. For in the end, it is the scars of our choices that define us, shaping the paths we tread and the destinies we embrace.


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