I Gave Up University For Him

My name is Amara Okafor. I was 19 years old when I made the biggest mistake of my life.

I gave up my university admission for a man.

The admission letter was on the table. University of Lagos. Law. My mother had cried when it came. She was a market woman in Onitsha. She sold akara for 20 years to pay my WAEC.

"Mama, I will be a lawyer," I told her, hugging the letter. "I will build you a house."

That same night, my boyfriend, David Okonkwo — no, not the David from my first book, a different David in this story, let's call him Chidi Eze — came to my house crying.

Chidi was my secondary school sweetheart. He was brilliant. He had also gotten admission to University of Lagos. Engineering. But his father had died. His mother had no money. He had no one.

"Amara, I cannot go to university," he said, tears falling. "I have no fees. I will have to go and learn mechanic work in Onitsha."

I looked at my admission letter. I looked at his face.

And I did something my mother never forgave me for.

I tore my admission letter in half.

"Chidi, you will go. I will not go. I will work and pay your fees."

Chidi held me like I was his God.

"Amara, I swear on my mother's grave. When I become a big man, I will marry you. I will buy you a house. I will never leave you. You are my sacrifice."

I believed him.

For 4 years, I became his sponsor, his mother, his wife, his slave.

I worked 3 jobs. In the morning, I sold akara with my mother in Onitsha market. In the afternoon, I cleaned houses for rich women in GRA. At night, I did braiding for students until 11pm. My hands bled. My back broke. I slept 3 hours a day.

Every month, I sent Chidi N150,000. For his school fees. For his hostel. For his laptop. For his food.

I sold my mother's gold earrings — her only inheritance from her mother — to buy him that laptop. My mother cried for 3 days.

"Amara, you are killing yourself for a boy who will forget you," she warned me. "A man who eats from your sweat will one day say you are dirty."

I did not listen. I said, "Mama, Chidi loves me."

Chidi graduated with First Class. First Class in Engineering. He got a job in Lagos. Then he got a second job. Then he started his own tech company.

He became rich. Fast.

He bought a car. He bought a suit. He changed his accent. He started speaking like a Lekki big boy.

And he started changing towards me.

He stopped calling. He stopped visiting Onitsha. When I called, his secretary said, "Oga is in a meeting."

When I went to Lagos to see him, security stopped me at his office gate.

"Madam, do you have appointment? Oga is busy."

I waited 6 hours in the sun, in my old wrapper, with my akara smell still on my clothes.

When he finally came out, he was in a black suit, with a beautiful girl beside him — light-skinned, in red dress, with a diamond necklace. Her name was Sophia Adeyemi. Daughter of a Commissioner. Heiress.

Chidi looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I was a beggar.

"Amara? What are you doing here? I told you not to come to my office in that wrapper."

I was holding a small nylon bag. Inside was ofe nsala, his favorite soup, that I cooked for 5 hours and carried from Onitsha to Lagos.

I gave it to him. "Chidi, I brought your favorite. I missed you."

He did not take it. Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Eww, what is that smell? Is that village soup? Chidi, tell your maid to go."

Maid. He called me maid.

Then Chidi did the worst thing.

He brought out a red envelope from his suit and threw it at my face.

"Amara, here is your wedding invitation. I am marrying Sophia next month. You are invited. As my... as my... former classmate."

The envelope fell to the ground. I picked it up, hands shaking.

Wedding Invitation: Chidi Eze & Sophia Adeyemi. Eko Hotel, Lagos.

I looked at him. "Chidi, what about your promise? You said you would marry me. I gave up university for you. I paid your fees for 4 years. I sold my mother's gold."

Chidi laughed. A cold, billionaire laugh.

"Amara, that was school love. That was poverty love. Look at you. Look at me. Do you think a CEO like me can marry a market woman who sells akara? You are not my class anymore. You are not my level. Go back to Onitsha. Find a mechanic to marry."

He turned and entered his car with Sophia. The car drove away, splashing dirty water on my wrapper.

I stood there, in front of his office, holding the wedding invitation and the cold soup.

I did not cry. Not yet.

Because that night, I found out something that would change everything.

I was 2 months pregnant. For Chidi.

And he had just told me I was not his class.