Don't Judge Me Without Reading My Story

DON'T JUDGE ME WITHOUT READING MY STORY FIRST Episode 1: The Man I Was Never Supposed to Love I never knew that falling in love could destroy everything I believed about my family. If someone had told me that the man I would one day love would also be the man my mother had forbidden me from marrying, I would have laughed. But life has a strange way of turning our biggest fears into reality. My name is Brenda, and for most of my life, I believed I knew the truth about my family. I was wrong. It all started with a question I had carried in my heart for years. One evening, I sat across from my mother, staring at her while gathering the courage to finally ask. “Mum, is there no way I can trace my father's family?” She became quiet. For a few seconds, she simply stared at me. Then she sighed. “Brenda, how many times do I have to tell you? Your father died when you were born.” “I know that, Mum. But I want to know about him. I want to know where he came from. I want to know what he looked like.” My mother's expression changed. “Your father was making arrangements to introduce me to his people when death took him away.” I swallowed hard. “Does that mean you never met any of his family?” She shook her head. “We were both students when we met. When I became pregnant with you, my father threw me out of the house. Your father promised to take me to his people after I delivered you.” She paused, and tears gathered in her eyes. “But he never made it.” “Why?” “He had a terrible accident while on his way to get money for your delivery.” I stared at her in disbelief. “So he died because of me?” “No, Brenda.” She reached for my hand. “Never say that. You were a blessing, not a curse.” But those words didn't stop the questions in my heart. I wanted to know my father. I wanted to see his face. “Do you have any picture of him?” My mother looked away. “I used to. But robbers broke into the house years ago and took the box where I kept them.” My heart sank. There was no picture. No family. No relatives I knew. Just a story about a dead father I had never met. I wiped my tears and tried to smile. “Mum, when I eventually get married, will Grandpa represent my father?” “Yes,” she replied. Then her voice became serious. “But there is something you must never forget.” I looked at her. “Our tradition forbids us from marrying anyone from Bokoso.” “Bokoso?” “Yes.” She leaned closer. “It is considered a taboo. Anyone who goes against it can be rejected by the family and treated as an outcast.” I rolled my eyes. “Mum, you have been telling me this since I was a child.” “And I will continue telling you until you understand.” She pointed at me. “Promise me you will never marry a Bokoso man.” I smiled. “I promise.” At that time, I had no idea how badly that promise would come back to haunt me. Seven Years Later Seven years passed. I grew into a successful young woman. My career was moving forward beautifully. One promotion followed another, and I was proud of the life I had built for myself. But there was one thing missing. Love. I had money. I had a good career. I had a beautiful apartment. I had everything people thought would make a woman happy. Yet every night, when I returned home, I felt painfully alone. Then one day, my company transferred me to Bokoso. The moment I told my mother, she reminded me of her warning. “Brenda, remember what I told you.” “I remember, Mum.” “Stay away from those men.” I laughed. “Mum, I'm going there to work, not to find a husband.” “I mean it.” “I promise.” A few days later, I arrived in Bokoso. The place was beautiful. My company provided me with a fully furnished apartment and an official car with a driver. Everything seemed perfect. But when the driver left me at my apartment that first evening, the silence hit me. I stood in the middle of my beautiful living room and realized something. I didn't need another promotion. I didn't need another expensive piece of furniture. I needed someone. Someone to talk to. Someone to laugh with. Someone who would ask how my day went. Someone who would hold me when life became difficult. I needed love. And unfortunately, most of the men who approached me in Bokoso were exactly the kind of men my mother had warned me about. One afternoon, I finally confided in a colleague who was like a sister to me. “Brenda, you're too educated to allow an old tradition control your happiness.” I remained silent. She continued. “You're living in a modern world. Your parents cannot choose your husband for you.” “But my mother says it is a taboo.” “Then let her believe that. You have your own life.” I looked at her. “What if she's right?” She laughed. “Then don't marry the wrong man. But don't reject a good man simply because of where he comes from.” Her words followed me home that evening. That night, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. Why should I allow my mother's tradition to control my entire life? I wasn't getting younger. I wanted a husband. I wanted children. I wanted someone to share my life with. “My father came from his own family,” I whispered to myself. “Why should I allow my mother's family tradition to decide who I love?” Just then, my phone rang. I reached for it. It was one of the men who had been asking me out. A man from Bokoso. I stared at his name on my screen for several seconds. My heart raced. I knew what my mother would say. I knew the promise I had made. But I also knew how lonely I had become. Finally, I answered. “Hello?” “Hi, Brenda. I've been trying to reach you.” “I know.” “Can I see you tomorrow?” I hesitated. Then I closed my eyes. “Okay.” The next day, I met Edwin. And from the very first moment I saw him, something felt different. There was no awkwardness. No pressure. Talking to him felt strangely easy, as though we had known each other for years. We laughed. We talked about our dreams. We talked about our families. We talked about life. By the time we said goodbye, I was already smiling. I didn't know it then, but that simple meeting was the beginning of the biggest mistake or perhaps the greatest love of my life. Edwin began calling me every day. Morning. Afternoon. Night. His voice became part of my daily routine. Before long, I was waiting for his calls. I began looking forward to seeing him. And slowly, without realizing it, I fell in love. But there was one problem. Edwin was from Bokoso. And my mother had made one thing very clear: **I could love anyone in the world—but never a man from Bokoso.** I knew I was walking toward a forbidden love. I just didn't know that this man would eventually change my entire life. **To be continued...**