I met the father of my child when I was just 17, fresh out of senior high school in my village. He worked as a spare parts dealer in Abossey Okai and became a cornerstone in my life and my family’s well-being.

When I expressed my dream of moving to Accra for work, he not only encouraged me but also made the transition smooth. Since he lived in a two-bedroom house, I didn’t need to rent a place of my own—I moved in with him.

Living together, I became his pillar, caring for him devotedly, and soon, our relationship blossomed. He supported me in setting up a food business, and from my earnings, I saved enough to enroll in a year-long course in infant learning and teaching.

Life seemed to be falling into place until his business hit rock bottom. Suddenly, the entire financial burden of our home was on me.

I didn’t mind. I knew he was a hardworking man who had hit a rough patch. I shouldered the responsibility without hesitation. Then, at 20, I discovered I was pregnant—at the same time, our rent was due.

With no choice, I used all my savings to pay the rent and took a bold step to secure our future. I approached a nearby school for a feeding contract, but the headmistress, noticing my certificate, offered me a teaching job instead.

My mother stepped in as well, giving us GHS 8,000 from her cocoa sales. I handed my fiancé GHS 5,000 to restart his business, which soon began to thrive. Life seemed to stabilise again.

I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, and my determination to keep our family afloat never wavered.

Two years later, my fiancé started constructing a house. He promised that once it was finished, he would visit my family to pay my bride price.

By then, we had begun planning our future, even buying items for the traditional marriage. But just as the pieces of my dream life were falling into place, things took a dark turn.

His behaviour changed. He spent less time at home, avoided contributing to household expenses, and became increasingly distant. My suspicions grew, and after some digging, I discovered the truth—he was seeing another woman, a single mother.

When I confronted him, his response cut me deeply. He admitted to the affair but dismissed me with cruel words, saying she was more educated than I was.

Feeling broken and betrayed, I watched as he moved in with her, abandoning me and our son. He never showed up for our child’s school events or even his birthdays, leaving my son resentful of his absent father.

Five painful years passed. I worked tirelessly, shielding my son from the void his father had left. Meanwhile, my fiancé’s new relationship fell apart.

Suddenly, he was back, remorseful and tearful, begging for forgiveness. He promised to make things right, to marry me, and to rebuild the family we once had.

But his betrayal left scars I can’t ignore. Should I let go of my grudge and give him a second chance, or is this a chapter better left closed?