My boyfriend always asks me to close the door each time I ask him for money.

And every time I did, a part of me d!ed behind it.

I know every adult reading this will understand the aspect of this “closing door,” so let me not explain further.

While writing this, I’m still weeping, but I sincerely wish every lady out there will read this story.

So, when I met Derrick, I was in Year One in one of the federal universities in Nigeria.

I was bright and intelligent and wanted to go to school at all cost. But you know, when life throws a lot at you, if you aren’t too strong, you might fall into a pit.

That was exactly my story.

Life was so hard, I no go lie give you.

There were days I stayed without food. I only drank pap and kwili-kwili because I didn’t even know where the next meal would come from.

I know you must be wondering about my parents—don’t even scratch it. The first time I called my father to send me money, he said he too needed money as well.

And if we are to weigh life now, he said I should be the one sending him money, not the other way around.

I wept eeh!

But thank God for my mother. The few times I called, she would squeeze 2k and send it to me.

That was my life in school—until I met Derrick.

I didn’t even have the intention of dating anyone at the moment. But the moment he approached me, after we talked for a while—he asked for my name, what I was studying, and the rest. Then before he left, he asked for my number and said, “At least, once in a while, I can call you and take you out.”

Me that hunger wanted to finish, I quickly gave him my number. To me, one can’t tell where God wants to bless her from.

He called a few times and we spoke. Then one day, he called and asked for my house number so that he could come pick me up. He said he wanted us to go buy barbecue.

I smiled when I heard *barbecue*. Who dash monkey banana? Me that had been drinking garri since was now going to eat barbecue?

I told him I was living in a hostel, that he should just come and pick me up there.

The sound of “hostel” seemed to irritate him a bit, but he said,

“You can’t leave your parents’ house and still come to school and be living in a hostel. You don’t even have your privacy.”

I was like, *Oga abeg leave this matter. Do I have money to eat, let alone renting a space? Abeg oh!*

Seeing that I didn’t say a word, he replied like he was listening to the conversation in my heart,

“Don’t worry, dear. About this hostel matter, we will see to it.”

And that was it.

We went out that day and ate barbecue that I had never eaten in my life.

He bought food in a takeaway pack for me and also gave me some cash before he took me back to the hostel.

That was the first night I slept like a baby without waking up in between to drink water because I was so hungry.

When I woke up in the morning, I couldn’t believe that things were beginning to take better shape for me, because I don suffer.

Life continued and even got softer as Derrick was there for me.

After two weeks, Derrick called me to escort him somewhere, and when I did, he took me to a GRA area that was like a drop to the school. It was nice and beautiful. I was even thinking it was his house because he had fixed it up with a bed, fridge, groceries, a wardrobe filled with clothes, and an AC.

I was still admiring the place and telling him how beautiful it looked when he handed me the keys and said it was my home now.

I screamed. I screamed eeh!

I ran into him and hugged him instantly. I even gave him kisses on his cheeks. I was shocked that I did that.

It was at that moment I realized what some women used to say—that money can bring out love from a woman. Nne, money brought out my love!

After that day, I moved in. Later on, I even invited my friend Anurika to come see my house, and the only thing she kept saying was,

“Please, whoever this man is, hold him strongly. This one pass goldmine!”

We would laugh about it, but the truth of the matter was that Derrick had not even said anything about a relationship all this while.

So I was threading with carefulness.

Then one day, Derrick called me and said he was traveling to South Africa and might be coming back in three weeks’ time. My heart skipped because, how will I recharge for light? How will I eat? How will I go to school without transport money?

It’s true he had been giving me money, but it was not really something that could sustain me for long. Sometimes handouts and little school bills would collect it all. So I was in deep thought.

The next words he said sent shivers down my spine,

“I will be coming over to spend some time with you before I travel. Then before I travel, we will discuss.”

And that was it.

He came. At first, I was shy. I had only had segz once—with my boyfriend in the village who forcefully took it when I went to see him—and that broke the relationship.

I remember vowing to God not to do it again, but life can be so unfair sometimes.

I gave in, and we had a swell moment.

When I woke up the next day, he was already up and looking at me with this grin. He said,

“You’re really so sweet. Thank you for making my night a blessed one. Mmmhhh… For my travelling, I will send you some money. Just be a good girl and keep my property in order till I come back.”

I wasn’t so sure what he meant by my property, but I kept mute.

A few minutes later, I had a notification on my phone, and when I checked, for the first time, he had sent 300k. My heart did gbim gbim.

I thanked him and was really grateful. He travelled, and stayed for a while before he came back, but from the day he came back, having segz became a routine.

Most times, he slept in the room he rented for me for like four days in a week.

He goes to work from my house.

It got to the point where it looked like I was living with my husband in the house, because I couldn’t even tell him to leave.

He stopped giving me money like before. He reduced it to the barest minimum.

My body was suffering. My relationship with God was zero, because which mouth will you use to pray after the nack you almost every day?

I did ab0rtion twice. The suffering I went through was even worse than when I was in the hostel drinking my pap and kwili-kwili in peace of mind.

Derrick became controlling and manipulative. And worst of all, I couldn’t even go back to the hostel because everyone already believed I was dating a big fish who was taking good care of me and had changed my level.

So one day, I intentionally asked him for money for a project, and as usual, I got the “close the door.” And I did.

I had been doing that for a long time.

After the deed, he sent me the money I asked for. It was 50k I requested, but he gave me 25k.

I left with it and took a decision that day never to go back to that house.

I went back to the hostel and paid. I didn’t care what people would say.

The hostel fee was 20,000 Naira.

I paid and got a space.

I had already sneaked in some of my things back to school, and that was how I continued my life—dedicating it to Christ and promising never to go back to Derrick again.

He called for a while and then stopped calling.

I learnt hair-making later on, and that was what I used to finish my studies. When I was graduating, I was just crying because I knew I went to the devil’s den and came back.

I still remember that house—the house Derrick rented for me.

I still remember the bed, the mirror where I lost myself every night.

But now, my self worth is regained, I’ve built my own big salon and life has gotten better, and each time I braid another woman’s hair, I remind her:

There’s no blessing in what steals your peace.

Morals:

1. Parents must take responsibility for raising their children, because neglect breeds broken values that society later pays for.

2. As a woman, learn to say no even when it’s hard, your boundaries are your power, your silence is not consent, and your worth is never tied to who you please.

3. As a man, if you must demand a woman’s body before helping her, then you were never a helper, you were her downfall.

If this story inspired you, kindly share.❤️

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