Forever To Silence Episode 1

I love him. I truly do. I have loved Folarin all my life, even before love had a name for what I felt. When we finally got married, I believed my waiting had ended. I thought I had stepped into the happiest chapter of my life.

One year after our marriage, Folarin traveled out of Nigeria. It wasn’t easy, but we agreed it was for our future. I stood by him with everything I had. In fact, I was the one who paid most of the bills when he got there rent, food, documents, even things he didn’t ask for. I did it with joy because he was my husband, because his struggle was my struggle.

At first, our communication was beautiful. We talked every day. Morning calls, late-night video chats, laughter that crossed oceans. He told me about the cold, the stress, the long hours. I encouraged him. I prayed for him. I reminded him that no matter the distance, he was not alone.

Then slowly… things began to change.

It didn’t happen suddenly. It crept in quietly, like a crack in a wall you don’t notice until the whole house feels unsafe. He started picking my calls reluctantly. Sometimes he wouldn’t pick at all. When I asked why, he said he was busy. When I complained, he said I worried too much.

The warmth in his voice disappeared. Our conversations became short, dry, forced. He no longer asked how my day went. He no longer cared that I stayed awake just to hear his voice. Sometimes, while we were on the phone, I could feel his mind was somewhere else.

I blamed myself.

Maybe I was calling too much. Maybe I was too available. Maybe distance was just hard on men. That’s what people say, right? “Be patient, he is hustling.” So I swallowed my fears and kept loving him quietly.

But my heart knew something was wrong.

One day, I called him over ten times. No answer. Hours later, he sent a message:

“I’m tired. I’ll call you later.”

Later never came.

I cried that night not because he didn’t call, but because for the first time since we got married, I felt like a burden instead of a wife.

Still, I sent him money the next week. Still, I prayed for him. Still, I defended him whenever anyone hinted that something might be wrong. I told myself love is patient. Love endures.

But deep inside me, a question kept whispering:

When did loving my husband start feeling like begging for his attention?

Continue reading Episode 2