The shattered vow

Untitled Episode

The knocks came again, sharper this time. I hesitated with my hand on the door handle, still thinking about the supermarket scene. My mind was tired, my heart even more so.

I opened the door slowly, not sure who I expected…but definitely not him.

It wasn't my ex.

It was Rex, the one person who had seen me through my worst days after my breakup, the friend who had become a quiet part of my healing.

“Clarabelle,“ she said softly, her eyes searching my face, “You've been crying”.

I looked away, not wanting her to see just how broken I still felt. “It's nothing, come in”.

She stepped inside, carrying a plastic bag that smelled faintly of jollof rice and fried plantain. “I was just at home, thought you might want something to eat.”

I wanted to smile, but the memory of my ex's words at the supermarket replayed again in my mind.

Virgin Mary… take your virginity to hell.

I must have gone quiet for too long because Rex sat beside me on the edge of the bed. “Did you see him?”

My head snapped up, “What do you mean?”

“ I heard from a friend he was back in town,” Rex said, carefully watching me. “ I was hoping you wouldn't run into him”.

I let out a humorless laugh, “I didn't just run into him…I ran straight into his mouth.”

Rex frowned, “What did he say”?

I looked down at my hands, “enough to remind me why I left and enough to make me wish I had never met him.”

Rex was silent for a moment, then reached out and took my hand. “You don't owe that man anything. Not your time, not your tears, and definitely not your heart. He lost the right to hurt you the day he walked away.”

Rex's thumb brushed over my knuckles.

“Then maybe it's time to make new memories, ones that don't involve him.”

I would have had s*x with him. Maybe now we will be walking towards marriage.

I'm no longer a virgin; I lost it to a stranger. That is the most painful part of it all.

"And you still want me to create more memories when I am certain that I can't have anything to do with the opposite gender. "Please let me recover in peace, I said calmly.

The smell of the good Rex brought filled the room, warm and comforting. She unpacked the container and placed it on the small table near my bed.

“Eat,” she said, passing me a fork. “You can talk after.”

We are in silence, as the thought of the event keeps playing over again in my mind.

I'm sure it wasn't just meeting my ex that hurt, but the thought of the reason why we separated, and that reason was lost to a stranger.

Later that evening, she insisted we take a walk. The sun was dipping, painting the sky a soft orange, and the quiet streets felt like a world far from the supermarket chaos. We talked about random things, music work, silly jokes and, for the first time in weeks, I laughed without forcing it.

As we walked back to my apartment, Rex glanced at me. “You know Clarabelle, I'm always here for you. So take your time and don't judge yourself.

We got to my apartment, she picked up her things and bid me goodbye.

That night, lying in bed, I thought about forgiving myself and focusing on building the best out of me. Just within some time, I dozed off.

****************

The week passed quietly. Work kept me busy, and Ada kept me sane. She had this way of pulling me out of my own head without making it obvious, dropping by with food, calling me to gist about random things, or dragging me out for a walk when she knew I’d been inside too long.

Saturday came, and Ada suggested we try a small café she had discovered. “You’ve been hiding indoors too much,” she teased as we walked in. The place smelled of fresh pastries and coffee, and the low hum of conversation felt strangely comforting.

We found a table near the window, ordered drinks, and started talking about a new TV series she wanted me to watch. I was laughing at one of her exaggerated impressions when a shadow fell over our table.

“Amara?”

The voice froze my smile.

I looked up — and there he was. My ex. Neatly dressed, holding a cup of coffee, wearing that same smug expression that used to make me feel small.

His eyes flicked to Ada, then back to me. “So… this is what you’ve been doing?” he said with a mocking half-smile.

Before I could respond, Ada sat up straight, her eyes narrowing just slightly. “If by ‘this’ you mean sitting with someone who values her, then yes. This is exactly what she’s been doing.”

My ex chuckled, shaking his head. “Value? You think you can erase history with… her?”

Something inside me shifted. I wasn’t that same girl who used to shrink under his words. I looked him straight in the eye.

“I didn’t erase anything,” I said evenly. You walked away. I just stopped leaving the door open for you to come back.”

The café had gone quieter now, the air thick with tension. My ex’s smirk faltered for a split second, but he masked it. “You’ve changed,” he said, almost like it was an insult.

Ada leaned forward slightly. “No. She’s just remembering who she was before you tried to break her.”

His jaw tightened, and without another word, he turned and walked out.

I let out a long breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Ada reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You did well, babe. I’m proud of you.”

And for t

The first time since that supermarket encounter, I truly believed I was going to be okay.

We left after clearing the bills. I got home, feeling a bit tired and exhausted.

Lost in my own thoughts about how my life and relationship with men had been so far

**“Sometimes I sit and wonder how a heart that once felt so full can suddenly feel so empty. I thought love was supposed to be a safe place, a shelter from the storms of life, but now it feels like the very storm I’m trying to survive. Healing hasn’t been as straightforward as people make it sound. They say time heals everything, but time doesn’t erase the memories, the laughter, the small details that made everything feel so real. Instead, it forces me to live with them until they slowly lose their sharpness.

I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. There are days when I wake up with a heavy chest, remembering how easily I used to smile just because of a single message or call. Now the silence feels louder than words ever did. Sometimes I catch myself reaching for my phone, almost forgetting that the person I want to talk to is no longer mine. That’s when the pain hits the hardest—the reminder that love, no matter how strong it felt, doesn’t always stay.

But healing teaches me things too. It teaches me how to be alone without being lonely. It shows me that my worth was never tied to someone else’s ability to see it. I am learning to appreciate the small victories—the mornings I wake up with lighter thoughts, the nights I go to bed without tears, the moments I catch myself genuinely laughing again. These tiny steps might seem invisible to others, but to me, they are proof that I am slowly piecing myself back together.

Heartbreak feels like the end of everything at first, but maybe it’s really the beginning of something new. A new strength, a new understanding, and eventually, a new kind of love—starting with myself. I won’t rush the process; I won’t force the healing. I will allow myself to grieve, to feel, and to let go at my own pace. Because one day, I know I’ll look back and realize the pain that once felt unbearable was actually shaping me into someone wiser, someone softer, yet stronger.

For now, I carry the sadness with grace, knowing that with each passing day, my heart is learning to beat differently. Not for the past, not for what I lost, but for the life still ahead of me. And maybe, just maybe, this brokenness will become the reason I discover the best version of my

self.”**