When Love Turns Against You

I used to believe that love was proven by sacrifice. If you gave enough, endured enough, and stayed long enough, the other person would eventually see your worth. That was the version of love I carried into my relationship with Kolawole and it almost broke me.

I met Kolawole when I was already finding my feet as a makeup artist in Lagos. Lagos is not a gentle city; it teaches you hustle before it teaches you comfort. I worked long hours, moving from bridal jobs to photoshoots, sometimes standing for hours until my legs trembled. Still, I was proud of myself. I was independent, creative, and hopeful. When Kolawole came into my life, he felt like rest. He spoke softly, laughed easily, and made me feel seen or so I thought.

When we decided to move in together, I did not hesitate. Love made me brave and foolish at the same time. I paid the house rent with my savings, telling myself it was “our” home. I furnished the room little by little. I cooked with my money, bought foodstuffs, paid bills, and covered transport. Even when he was not working or contributing, I told myself it was temporary. I believed in him more than he believed in himself.

People around me noticed, but love made me deaf. “You’re doing too much,” they said. I defended him every time. I told myself love was about giving, not counting. If he was quiet, I assumed he was stressed. If he forgot my birthday, I told myself material things didn’t matter. I ignored the small discomforts until they became my normal.

Slowly, something changed.

Kolawole started withdrawing. He became distant, irritable, and cold. Conversations that used to flow became forced. He started complaining about little things my questions, my presence, even my silence. Then one day, he said it. He needed space.

That word shattered me.

Space from what? From who? I was the one carrying the weight of our lives. I was the one sacrificing sleep, money, and peace. Yet suddenly, I was the problem. I felt confused, embarrassed, and deeply hurt. I tried harder, thinking maybe love needed more effort. But the harder I tried, the further he drifted.

Eventually, I did the hardest thing I had ever done I left.

Walking away felt like failure. I felt like I had invested everything and received rejection in return. I cried for nights, replaying memories and questioning myself. Was I not enough? Did I give too much? Should I have been less kind, less available, less loving?

With time, pain turned into clarity.

I realized something important: no amount of sacrifice can force love to grow where it does not exist. Loving someone with all your money, energy, and soul does not guarantee they will love you back. Sometimes, people don’t leave because you did too little they leave because they never truly valued you.

Today, that experience gives me strength.

It taught me that love should not drain you dry. It should not turn you into a beggar for affection or appreciation. Love should meet you halfway, not watch you carry everything alone. I learned that generosity without boundaries becomes self-destruction. I learned that my worth is not measured by how much I suffer for someone.

Kolawole was a lesson, not a mistake.

I am stronger now. I still love deeply, but I love wisely. I still give, but I no longer give at the expense of myself. And most importantly, I know this truth with my whole heart: no matter the sacrifices you make for someone, they do not owe you love only respect does.

And next time, I will choose both.