Blessing finished WAEC and passed well, but there was no money for university. So she went back to selling bananas in the village, same as before. Her hands were rough, her dreams felt far away. Then Aunty Ngozi came. “Blessing, you’re hardworking. Won’t you like to marry?” Blessing shook her head. “I want to further my education.” Aunty Ngozi smiled. “My brother in Lagos is a police officer. He’s looking for a wife. When he comes next week, you’ll meet him.” Blessing’s mind raced. Lagos. Police officer. A chance to leave the banana stand behind. Maybe this was her way out. She told herself: _I’ll go to the city, change my life, and still go to school._ When Mr. John arrived, Blessing took him straight to her father. “Daddy, this is the man who wants to marry me.” Her father frowned. “We’re working hard selling bananas so you can go to school. Now you want marriage?” Mr. John stepped in fast. “No sir, you misunderstand. Marriage won’t stop her schooling. Once we get to Lagos, I’ll enroll her myself.” Blessing believed him. For the first time in months, she felt hope. The wedding happened. The papers were signed. And Blessing followed Mr. John to Lagos, thinking her real life was about to start. _On the wedding day, the elder asked, “Do you have a wife?” Mr. John said, “No.” But Aunty Ngozi was about to speak After the wedding, Blessing settled into Mr. John’s house in Lagos. It was big, clean, with light that stayed on all night. Nothing like the village. But during the traditional rites, the elder asked the questions again: “Do you have a wife?” “No.” “Do you have children?” “No.” Aunty Ngozi couldn’t stay quiet. “I won’t lie. My brother has a daughter. But she lives with her mother. It won’t be a problem.” The room went silent. Blessing stood up, face burning. “A child? And you said no?” Everyone started begging her. “Please, don’t get angry. It’s just a female child. She doesn’t live here.” Blessing was furious, but she also saw no way out. She’d already left the village. She’d already told everyone she was going to Lagos to study. So she swallowed the anger and agreed to marry him. They arrived in Lagos together. And Blessing reminded him: “How about my school? You said you’d train me.” Mr. John smiled and patted her hand. “First, give birth. After that, I’ll send you to school.” Blessing said nothing. But inside, something broke. She started trying to get pregnant. Month after month, nothing happened. _Blessing began to wonder — was she the problem? Or was he hiding something?_ --- The months turned into a year. No pregnancy. No school. Just silence and pressure. Blessing started crying at night. “Am I the problem? Will I never give my husband a child?” Mr. John never said a word. He acted normal, went to work, came home late. But one day, he left for work and forgot to lock his room. Blessing went in to clean. Anger and curiosity made her open his drawer, scatter his papers. And there it was — a medical report. *Diagnosis: Impotent. Unable to father a child.* The paper shook in her hands. All this time, he knew. He lied about the school. He lied about the child. He let her cry and blame herself. Blessing sat on the floor and cried. Not quiet tears — deep, shaking sobs that had been building for months. Now she had a choice: walk out and go back to selling bananas in shame, or confront the man who ruined her dream. When Mr. John returned home that evening, Blessing held the paper in her hand. “Explain this,” she said