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When David*(43) met Esther*(39) at a naming ceremony in 2012, he had no idea that she would later become his wife or that loving her would test everything he believed about marriage.

In this story, he reflects on how pressure, pride and silence nearly cost him his marriage, and how vulnerability and honesty rebuilt their love from scratch.

This is David’s story as told to Betty:

I’ll always remember the first time I saw my wife, Esther*. 

My mother arranged the meeting and sat us side by side at a naming ceremony in February 2012. Esther looked radiant in a black dress with pink flowers. We sat on white plastic chairs, our shoulders barely touching. As I looked at her, I wondered why I’d avoided my mum’s attempts to introduce us for so long. 

I was 30 then. For five years, my mother had tried to set me up. Her friends already had grandchildren, and she wanted the same. I kept avoiding her efforts because  I needed more time to become financially stable before marriage. Still, that day, I was grateful for my mother’s stubbornness. 

I was struck by Esther’s quiet beauty and shyness. She barely looked at me when we spoke. Her gaze fell on her feet and remained there while I tried to make conversation. 

We exchanged phone numbers and Facebook details, but I didn’t reach out for weeks. Relationships and marriage weren’t a priority for me at the time. Life felt unsettled. One day, while scrolling Facebook, I saw one of Esther’s posts and left a funny comment. She replied in my DM, telling me she didn’t know I was so funny. 

From that moment, I wanted to keep making her laugh. 

We chatted on Facebook during the week. On weekends, we stayed up talking on the phone because calls were free from midnight till morning. After a few months, I knew I wanted more with Esther. I could tell she felt the same, but I hesitated.  I still wasn’t making enough money to settle down. At the same time, I didn’t want to lose her. 

In July 2012, at a small Mr Biggs in Ibadan, I held Esther’s hand and asked her to be my girlfriend. She said yes.

Our relationship was amazing. Esther made me feel seen, and I loved talking to her. The only issue was her family. They didn’t approve of my financial situation. They weren’t wealthy, but they lived more comfortably than I could afford at the time. 

I didn’t want to push our relationship to the next level and make her suffer, so I made the hard decision to quit my teaching job and open an internet cafe.  The money was better, and I could save toward a wedding and rent. Esther said she didn’t care about money, but that only made me determined to give her a good life. 

In 2014, I proposed. We got married that same year. Her family wasn’t happy, but Esther stood her ground and refused to let them disrespect me.

We moved into a one-bedroom apartment and began our life. The first year of marriage was bliss. The cafe was doing well, and the love of my life had become my wife. I couldn’t have been happier. 

Things began to change after our first anniversary in 2015, when Esther’s sister, Rachel, moved in with us.  She had gained admission to a university in our city and didn’t want to live on campus. We welcomed her into our home. Esther was also happy to have her sister around, and that warmed my heart. However, I didn’t expect how quickly the atmosphere in our home would change.

 Rachel never liked me. She tolerated me when Esther was around, but when we were alone, she made her disdain clear. She muttered insults and mocked our finances. She said I was suppressing her sister’s glory. Every small inconvenience became proof, in her eyes, that Esther deserved a richer man.

If we ran out of food, she made jokes about how stressful it was to manage with poor people. I hated her audacity, but I took it in stride because Esther’s happiness mattered more to me. Whenever Rachel upset me, I told Esther. She apologised and spoke to her sister, but nothing changed.

A couple of months later, I planned to surprise Esther with a car for our second anniversary so she wouldn’t have to take the bus to work. Before I could, a fire destroyed the complex where my cafe was located. I lost everything. I was back to square one. 

The loss sat heavily on my chest. I felt like I was failing as a husband. The pressure from my in-laws, the financial strain, and Rachel’s constant disrespect made me angry in ways I didn’t recognise. 

One day, in October 2016, everything boiled over.

Rachel came home late one night, long past the curfew Esther and I had agreed on. I confronted her, and we got into an argument.  Instead of apologising, Rachel called me  ‘tálíkà’, a poor man. At that point, I’d had enough. I told her to leave my house. She moved out a week later.

From that moment on, Esther and I began to drift apart. We argued over bills, food and other small things we never fought over before. Still, we kept our issues between us. I didn’t want my in-laws to think less of me, and Esther didn’t want gossip. Our bubbly mornings became quiet, and Esther withdrew. I tried to bring up Rachel, but Esther insisted I wasn’t meeting her family halfway. It was one of the lowest points of our marriage. We stopped talking even though we shared the same bed. In February 2017, we didn’t celebrate our wedding anniversary. 

I only remembered when my younger sister sent a message congratulating me. That evening, I sat in the living room alone and cried. I felt like a failure, and thought my marriage was ending. I knew it was only a matter of time before Esther walked away.

When Esther returned from her shop, she saw me and wrapped her arms around me. I broke down again and poured out my heart. I told her how much I loved her. How frustrated I felt. How sorry I was that I couldn’t give her the life I wanted for her. 

She opened up too. She said I was emotionally distant and consumed by money. She was tired and hurt.  That night, we talked until morning, just like we used to when we were dating and before Rachel came into the picture. That conversation saved us. Esther and I decided to rebuild. We planned to save up and relocate, doing anything that would take us as far as possible from our families. It took months of planning, research, and saving, but Esther finally secured admission to a master’s degree program in the US.  

She left for America in 2018. Months later, I joined her.

It wasn’t an easy ride before I relocated. After Esther left in 2018, there were many moments of doubt. I worried she would outgrow me. But she reassured me constantly, and I held on to her words. 

After I  joined her, I worked in a warehouse and registered for a tech quality assurance course on the side. Life was hard, but we had each other.

In 2020, we welcomed our son. The journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s been one filled with lessons that now serve as an anchor. Esther and I aren’t a perfect couple, but we’ve owned this journey in all its different shapes: good, bad, and the in-between. 

We’ve learnt that love needs care and vulnerability. I’m grateful she stayed. I’m grateful we chose each other even when it wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

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