He took me for a Cook

Kandey Alhassan June 04, 2025 0

Credit: Freepiks 

I came to the capital as a student, full of aspirations and a little overwhelmed by the new environment. It wasn't long before I met this guy, and he was undeniably persistent, all over me from the start. I stayed alone in my hostel, and initially, I really didn't want to pay him any attention. But he just kept pestering me until, eventually, I said yes. He was a worker, and right from the beginning, he did everything right with me. The amount of care and attention he showed me was absolutely top-notch. He made me feel incredibly special and cherished, and for a while, it seemed like everything was perfect. 

There was just one problem, a persistent detail that kept nagging at me: he never showed me where he stayed. He always, always visited me at my hostel. This became the only problem in what I otherwise perceived as a budding, wonderful relationship. I tried not to dwell on it too much, enjoying the attention and affection he showered upon me. But deep down, that unanswered question about his living situation lingered, a small, quiet discord in our otherwise harmonious start.

The unresolved issue of his living situation eventually became too much to ignore. One time, I politely asked him to at least show me where he stayed. I explained that I was only asking just in case anything happened so I could know where to find him. It seemed like a reasonable request to me, a practical concern for someone I was growing close to. But to my complete shock and dismay, it immediately turned into a misunderstanding. He reacted with anger, telling me that I didn't trust him.

 After that accusation, he simply stopped talking to me for weeks. Those weeks were agonizing. I was desperate to fix things, to get him to speak to me again. I begged him like my life depended on it before he finally agreed to resume communication. The relief I felt when he finally started speaking to me again was immense. In my desperation to maintain our connection, I, in turn, promised him I wouldn't bring up that topic again. It felt like a necessary sacrifice to mend our fractured relationship, but it also left an unspoken tension, a hidden boundary that I was now committed not to cross.

After that difficult period, things slowly but surely went back to being smooth between us. I was careful not to mention his living situation, and he seemed to appreciate that. Then, completely out of the blue, he invited me to his house to spend a week. I was truly taken aback by this sudden invitation after all his previous secrecy. He explained that he had a flatmate whom he didn't want me to meet for some reason, and that was why he had gotten angry when I had brought it up before. But now, he said, his flatmate had traveled, so I could finally come and see his place. 

Despite my surprise, I honored his invitation. I saw myself as wife material, so I diligently prepared and packed food items, and made my way to his place. That week was so beautiful. We spent quality time together, really knowing each other well. He would go to work and come home just like a husband would. Before he left for work, I would prepare food for him. Sometimes, he would even request certain types of food, and I would happily make them. I made food for him the whole time I stayed there, right up until I left. It truly felt like we were building a life together.

Weeks after that beautiful week at his place, I felt a strong urge to surprise him with some food. He had told me how much he loved the foods I prepared for him while I was there, so I thought cooking some would be a wonderful way to pay him an unannounced visit. I carefully prepared the food and set off, excited to see his reaction. I got to the house and rang the doorbell, a smile on my face.

 To my utter dismay and shock, a woman answered the door. She was carrying a little baby, which immediately sent a jolt of alarm through me. She asked whom I was looking for, and I, trying to keep my composure, told her I was looking for "my man," calling him by his name. She then asked me what I wanted, and I explained that I had brought him some food.

 She asked me to wait and went back in to get him. He came out, and she was right at his heels. I handed the food to him, my heart pounding. Then, he looked at the lady and told her that I was the cook whom he told her about. In that instant, I immediately got the message and left. He began calling my phone, but I couldn't bring myself to answer.

When I finally got home, I decided to hear what he had to say, though a part of me already knew the truth. On the phone, he began to explain, telling me that he was with the lady, but they had broken up. He claimed that after they broke up, she told him she was pregnant, and he had to be there to take responsibilities. He added that she also had nowhere to stay, which was why he had made her come and stay with him. I listened to his explanation, my mind racing. I told him that I trusted him, but he needed to put the lady on the phone or we needed to meet in person so I could confirm his story from her. He declined my request. At that point, I just laughed, a bitter, hollow laugh, and felt immensely sorry for myself. 

Then came the final, devastating blow. He admitted that when he had invited me to spend that week with him, the lady was actually admitted to the hospital for a C-section, and for the entire duration of my stay, she was admitted. And the food, all the food he had made me prepare for him during that week, he had sent it to her at the hospital. My level of trust had fallen greatly. It was an unbelievable deception. I realized then, with a profound sense of sadness, that some men are just unbelievably dishonest.