I got this DM from a lady…
She said she’s pregnant for her best friend’s husband.
Now, before you think it was some kind of “love happened by mistake” situation - no, this one was deliberate.
Back in school, her best friend slept with her boyfriend.
She forgave her… but she never forgot. She carried that grudge for years, waiting for the perfect revenge.
Fast forward to now, she got close to her best friend’s husband, seduced him, and even slept with him the night before their wedding…
while standing as her maid of honor. They’ve been having an affair ever since, and now she’s pregnant.
She’s telling everyone she’s keeping the baby, not because she loves the man, but because she wants her best friend to feel the exact same pain she once felt.
The problem? The man is now confused, his marriage is hanging by a thread, and an innocent child is about to be dragged into a war that started long before he was born.
Men, listen, some grudges women carry are invisible until you’re already inside the trap.
And once you’re in, you pay with your peace, your money, and sometimes, even your life. Imagine a side chick getting pregnant just to punish you for something your wife did 10 years ago.
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So something happened to me this past week… and honestly, it made me sit up.
About two years ago, my mom and I met this pastor. We visited his church to pray, hoping for spiritual direction. You know, sometimes life pushes you to seek clarity. He said a lot.
Prophesied that I'd get a job, that my visa was coming miraculously, that big things were ahead.
But see, I know my Bible. I may not carry “Pastor” in front of my name, but God gave me brain and discernment. I could tell some of what he said was more validation than revelation.
There were things he said that sounded less like God and more like control dressed in scripture.
Still, I held on. I was trying to get my life together. But then life hit hard—my mom passed. My world tilted. Things got dark. Yet somehow, I kept moving. Quietly. Resiliently.
Ten years ago, my wife told me she was traveling to Abuja to visit her sister.
That was the last time I saw her.
We didn’t fight. There was no argument. No warning. She just… vanished.
....
She left behind three children, the youngest barely a year and six months old. I waited: Days, then weeks, hoping to hear something. A message. A reason. Anything.
Then I found out from one of her colleagues that she didn’t just leave the city, she left the country.
Her parents knew. Her siblings knew. They all kept quiet.
She abandoned her home. Her marriage. And her own children. Without a single word.
That day, I became both father and mother overnight. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy.