A few days before my wedding, an uneasy feeling crept over me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. It gnawed at me, a deep, unexplainable sense that something wasn’t right. I couldn’t understand why I felt that way. I had been with Ruby for over three years—three beautiful, turbulent years where we stood by each other through sickness, health, riches, and poverty. She was my rock, my constant, and I believed, with every fiber of my being, that not even death could part us.

But the last year of our relationship had tested us. Ruby had been transferred to a town far from Kumasi for work. I hated the distance; it felt unnatural, like a wedge slowly driving us apart. I wanted her back with me. That desire—the ache to close the gap between us—was what spurred me to speed up our wedding plans. Yet, her job kept her so busy that I hadn’t seen her in five long months. We were planning a wedding apart, connected only by hurried phone calls and rushed text messages.

When that uneasy feeling surfaced, I didn’t know what else to do but pray. Late one night, with my heart heavy and my mind restless, I knelt beside my bed and whispered, “God, if there’s something I need to know, something that would stop me from making a mistake, please expose it before I marry her.” My voice cracked as I spoke those words, but I meant them with every ounce of my soul.

The very next day, Ruby came home unexpectedly. When I saw her, my heart leaped with joy—I had missed her so much. But her demeanor was off. She seemed withdrawn, guilty, like she was carrying a weight she couldn’t bear. Her eyes barely met mine, and when they did, they quickly darted away. I tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of my stomach, clinging to the happiness of finally seeing her again.

“I want to take you out,” she said suddenly. Her voice was soft but strained, as though she were forcing cheer into the moment. “My treat. The bills are on me.”

I readily agreed. I had missed her so much that I didn’t care about anything else. We went to a small, quiet restaurant. It was one of our favorites, a place we had visited often when things were simpler, happier. We ordered, but as we waited for our food, I could sense something brewing. Ruby fidgeted nervously, her eyes fixed on the table, avoiding mine.

When the food arrived, she finally looked up, tears welling in her eyes. “I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice trembling.

My heart sank. “What is it?” I asked, my throat tightening.

She took a deep breath, then spoke the words that shattered my world. “I’m pregnant.”

At first, her words didn’t register. I sat there, confused, my mind struggling to process. “Pregnant?” I repeated, almost dumbfounded. Then it hit me like a punch to the gut—we hadn’t been together in five months. My hands froze mid-motion, my fork hovering above my plate.

She saw the realization dawn on my face and quickly added, “I wasn’t going to tell you… I thought maybe I could keep quiet and let the wedding go on. But I love you too much to deceive you like this.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head as my eyes brimmed with tears. “No, you don’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this.” My voice cracked, and the pain clawed at my chest, raw and unrelenting. “This isn’t love. This… this is God exposing you. It’s God.”

The tears came then, unbidden and uncontrollable. My body shook as I cried, but I kept eating, forcing food into my mouth to distract myself from the overwhelming anguish. Ruby stopped eating altogether. She just sat there, sobbing quietly, her hands trembling as they lay limp in her lap.

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The relationship was over after that. There was nothing left to salvage, no foundation strong enough to rebuild what had been broken. I canceled the wedding, offering only vague apologies to those who asked. I couldn’t bear to explain, to relive the humiliation and betrayal. All they got were empty words, and I let the rumors fly.

I’ve never told anyone the real reason, and I doubt I ever will. One day, when Ruby returns to Kumasi, they’ll see her. They’ll understand the truth. Maybe then they’ll know why I’ve never been able to love again, why my heart feels like a hollow shell of what it used to be.