THE WRONG ADDRESS
EPISODE 5
One night, I woke up quietly and saw him on his phone again, using another fake name. This time, he was pretending to be a handsome, wealthy man, chatting with some girl as if he owned the world. Not just that, he was even using his real face under a different identity, still talking to women of the night.
Everything he did revolved around collecting money from them. He was smart, a skilled liar, but I began to notice something—he was always broke. The only time money appeared was when he successfully scammed someone online. That was when it truly dawned on me that the life he was living was dangerous.
One day, I begged him gently, “Please, try to find a decent job. What you’re doing can get you into serious trouble.” Before I could finish, he became furious, slapped me hard, and poured the wine he was drinking all over my face. I just stood there, stunned and shattered.
As time passed, I became sick from all the stress and pain I was enduring with him. The first time I told him I wasn’t feeling well, he went to a chemist and bought some drugs. But after that, he didn’t care anymore. No hospital, no proper treatment, nothing.
One night, he came home half drunk. I was still very weak, lying down and trying to manage myself. He started disturbing me, saying he was in the mood, even though I told him I wasn’t okay. He ignored me completely. He only cared about himself and forced himself on me, even though I was weak and sick. That night, I knew something inside me had completely broken.
The next morning, I complained, thinking maybe it was the alcohol that made him act that way. But he looked at me and said clearly, “As long as you are in my house, anytime I want you, you have no choice.” That was when I realized this man had no conscience at all.
My condition worsened. I was vomiting, weak, pale, and losing strength every single day. I had never felt like this before, and it scared me deeply.
One day, when he stepped out, I gathered the little strength I had and remembered James’ place. I told myself, “If I don’t try now, I might die here.” So I dragged myself there.
The moment James saw me, he was shocked. The way I looked—even I could barely recognize myself. He felt immediate pity and didn’t hesitate. He put me in his car and rushed me straight to the hospital.
At the hospital, the truth finally came out. My condition was serious. I was about eight weeks pregnant. The drugs Rajai had bought from the chemist, thinking it was just fever or malaria, were not safe for a pregnant woman. That alone made everything worse.
I was admitted and spent several days under proper care. James stayed by my side like someone heaven-sent. Slowly, I began to develop feelings for him, even though my situation was complicated.
He was the man from the wrong address, yet he had the same face I once admired from afar back in the village. The man I thought was my dream had turned out to be an illusion, but here was someone real, kind, and caring.
James came every day, bringing fruits and checking on me. Meanwhile, Rajai didn’t even call or show concern. It was as if I never existed.
There I was, pregnant for a man who didn’t care, stranded in a strange city like Douala, with no family, no support. I kept blaming myself. I should have been wiser. I had classmates in Douala, people I could have trusted, but I was too busy worrying they would take my boyfriend. I could have asked one of them to find out who the man I was chatting with really was—but it was too late. A lesson for anyone reading this story to the end.
Instead of being careful, I walked straight into trouble.
Many nights, I wished I could return to the village. But fear always held me back—what would I tell my parents? Who would I say was responsible for my pregnancy?
My heart was heavy, and my future uncertain.
If you were in my position, would you go back to the village?