There was something nobody knew about me.
Even while I was struggling with the changes in James, I had never stopped choosing him.
Men had approached me.
Some were kind.
Some were persistent.
Some made it obvious that they wanted something more than friendship.
But I rejected them.
Every single one.
Not because I couldn't see their good qualities.
Not because I didn't enjoy being admired.
I rejected them because I loved James.
I had made a choice.
And once I gave my heart to someone, I didn't want to be the reason they felt betrayed.
Ironically, I was becoming lonely while protecting a relationship that was already making me feel alone.
I didn't tell James about every man who approached me.
I didn't think there was a reason to.
But I also didn't hide my loyalty.
Whenever someone tried to get close to me, I reminded myself that I was in a relationship.
Then one afternoon, my colleague Bathsheba said something that stayed with me.
We had finished teaching for the day and were sitting together when she suddenly looked at me seriously.
"Bjei, can I tell you something?"
I nodded.
"You're too open with James."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You tell him everything."
"Isn't that what couples do?"
She shook her head.
"Not everything."
I laughed.
"Why?"
"Because sometimes, when you give someone access to everything about you, they begin taking you for granted."
I became quiet.
She continued.
"I'm not saying don't love him. I'm saying don't forget yourself because of him."
I looked at her.
She knew more than I had told her.
Maybe she had simply noticed how I behaved whenever James was around.
Maybe she had noticed that I was always explaining myself to him.
Or perhaps she had seen the loneliness in my face.
"James loves me," I said.
"I didn't say he doesn't."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying you need boundaries."
Her words made me uncomfortable.
I didn't want to hear them.
But somewhere inside me, I knew there was truth in what she was saying.
I had become so determined to prove my loyalty to James that I was beginning to forget that loyalty should never require you to disappear.
Still, I ignored her advice.
I continued loving James.
I continued telling him things.
I continued trying to make our relationship work.
Until Mohammed appeared.
I met him on an ordinary afternoon.
School had closed, and I was on my way home when I bumped into him.
At first, it was nothing.
A simple conversation.
A greeting.
A few words exchanged between two people who had never really known each other.
Then he asked for my contact.
I hesitated.
Before I could properly decide what to say, he took my phone and saved his number himself.
I remember looking at the screen afterward.
Mohammed.
His name was now sitting among my contacts.
I didn't think much of it.
At least, not then.
When I got home, I told James.
I showed him the contact.
"He approached me today."
James looked at the phone.
"Who is he?"
I explained.
"He asked for my number."
"And you gave it to him?"
"He saved it himself."
James looked at me.
I wanted him to know because I didn't want secrets between us.
The next day, Mohammed called.
I saw his name on my screen.
I didn't answer.
After the call ended, I showed James the missed call.
"This is the number I told you about."
He looked at it.
I felt relieved.
To me, showing him was proof.
I wanted him to know that I wasn't hiding anything.
Whenever Mohammed called again, I often ignored it.
Then I would show James the missed calls.
I wanted him to see that even though another man was trying to reach me, I wasn't entertaining him.
I thought that was what loyalty looked like.
But something slowly changed.
Not because Mohammed forced anything.
Because James's behavior was affecting me.
The more distant James became, the more alone I felt.
The more he hid, the more I questioned why I was the only one still trying to be completely transparent.
I didn't suddenly fall in love with Mohammed.
That would be a lie.
It started with friendship.
One day, when Mohammed called, I stared at the screen for a long time.
Normally, I would let it ring.
This time, I answered.
"Hello?"
There was silence for a second.
Then his voice came through.
"Finally."
I laughed.
"I was busy."
"I've been trying to reach you."
"I know."
We talked for a few minutes.
Nothing serious.
Nothing romantic.
Just conversation.
When the call ended, I sat quietly.
I felt guilty.
Not because I had done anything wrong.
But because I had crossed a line I had created for myself.
I had spent so long rejecting everyone because of James.
Now I had finally answered one call.
The strange thing was that I felt lighter.
Not happier.
Just less alone.
Mohammed called again the next day.
This time, I answered without hesitation.
We talked.
Then we started texting.
Slowly, the conversations became part of my day.
Good morning.
How was school?
Have you eaten?
How was your day?
Simple questions.
Ordinary conversations.
But they filled spaces that had become painfully quiet.
I still told James about Mohammed.
I didn't hide him.
If Mohammed called, I sometimes mentioned it.
If we spoke, I didn't pretend otherwise.
I wanted James to know I wasn't being dishonest.
But deep down, something had changed.
For the first time, I realized what loneliness could do to a person.
It could make attention feel like comfort.
And comfort, when you are emotionally exhausted, can become difficult to resist.
I didn't know where my friendship with Mohammed would lead.
I wasn't looking for another relationship.
I wasn't planning revenge.
I wasn't trying to make James jealous.
I simply wanted someone to talk to.
Someone who would ask how my day went.
Someone who would listen.
And that was how Mohammed quietly entered my life.
Not with promises.
Not with romance.
Just a conversation.
And sometimes, the smallest conversations become the beginning of the biggest changes.