I had no choice but to accept the fact that Efe would always abuse me. I couldn’t lose him, so I held back my tears. I felt like I was on a Y junction deciding which way to take, but they all had consequences. My face wore fear and confusion, and Zoryll’s mother was silent, like she was as hopeless as I was.

“You better leave him, he will abuse you until he kills you one day,” Zoryll gushed when she heard me talk to her mom in the kitchen. “You must report him to the police,” she added.

Her mother and I looked at her as if she was crazy. We both knew it was not the right thing to do. If I got him arrested, I was going to lose him, and he would never love me again.

“I love him, and we’ve been through a lot,” I said calmly and sadly because her suggestions were ridiculous.

“Does he love you? A man who loves you wouldn’t lay his hands on you,” she shouted and this time she was angry.

I could see the rage in Zoryll’s eyes as she spoke. She was fighting Efe ‘s spirit, even if she was from the same country as him. She had hatred for him. I had never seen such, and the one thing that made me think she wanted him was her outburst.

We, as South Africans, love each other, and each tribe knows each other tribe by surnames. But those Nigerians were different. They were like Zimbabweans, who never side with wrongs or maybe it was jealousy.

I didn’t see Efe as an abuser, even when I tried to. He was the man I loved. Part of me didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. Who would date a woman with a disabled weight? I did have hate for my body, but Efe loved it and that made me felt good.

He would have left me anyway because, in my village, there were prettier girls, but he chose me.

“Come on, he doesn’t love you,” Zoryll hissed, causing me to panic because I was terrified. She then came my way, as if she would slap me in order to wake me up from my dream. The rage she had at that moment was like the one Efe had. I didn’t know why she was so eagry and why she insisted I leave Efe. Maybe she wanted him.

“Zo … Zoryll, leave it,” her mother said while controlled her by dragging her back. “Let her make her own choices,” she added calmly.

In response, Zoryll nodded, even though I saw she still didn’t want me to stay with Efe. “Your choice then, so please don’t bother coming here telling us about your relationship problems,” she shouted, then stormed out of the house.

“Don’t mind her. Do what your heart tell you,” Zoryll’s mother whispered while rubbing my shoulders.

I didn’t know who to listen to, but my heart told me I couldn’t lose Efe. He was my everything. We had been together for too long. Yes, he cheated! But he had a right to because he was a man. I believed it was me who led him to do it sometimes. But I wasn’t worried about his cheating though, mainly because he would obviously come back to me. He knew I was worth it.

I might have been wrong, but I had faith. My heart felt Zoryll’s jealous, but my head told me she was right. But I knew that if I left him, I was going to be lonely again. I went to my parents’ home because I didn’t want to stay here ever again. The way Zoryll looked at me made me uncomfortable. Her mother was a pretender, and I realized she loved gossip, no wonder she asked me lot of questions.

Zoryll’s mother spoke with Efe, and he was apologetic. I saw the remorse in his eyes. He gave me another thousand rand, and I felt like a princess once again. If we argued a lot of times, I would have been a millionaire with all those thousand rands he gave me.

“Are you coming home?” he asked concerned.

“No, I’ll come tomorrow,” I replied.

He kisses my cheek and left, but I didn’t notice my mother standing behind me.

“That man loves you,” she muttered.

I turned back and smiled. “He’s the best,” I replied.

I went back into the house, cleaned up the kitchen, did the dishes, and went to sleep. I had a good sleep, and I kept on dreaming about my wedding with Efe. I dreamt about the Nigerian way they propose to a woman for marriage, and the palm wine they would give as a gift to my father. I also dreamt about the African glittering cloth was gifted to my mother, and a lot of rands were paid as my ‘ lobola’ (bride price). It was what I wanted in my real life.

While I was dreaming, I felt something shaking the world, then I opened my eyes and saw the light shining through the window, and I noticed I wasn’t alone. Efe was laying beside me on top on my green duvet.

“Morning my angel,” he said.

Before responding, I stretched my hands and sat up comfortably thinking of the dream I’d had, and Efe saw the smile on my face.

“Why are you so happy?” he asked and held my hand. He then kissed my cheek and hands.

“I was dreaming about you and I getting married,” I chuckled.

“We will get married,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t mean it.

“You are already my wife. Me and you are together forever,” he placed my hand on his chest. He seemed to mean it, then he jumped over me. “The bed is cold without you. Please come home?” he added and I nodded.

I smelt the cigarettes from his breath, and I quickly notice that he was dirty. His clothes were worse, and it made me uncomfortable after I taught him to be hygienic.

Tell us: Do you think it is possible for abusive people to change?