Chapter 2: The Beginning of Isolation

Dami was trying to survive when we first started dating — struggling with money, and uncertain about his future. But just before I got into university, God showed him mercy. Things turned around for him. He got a well-paying job, and suddenly, life started looking up. He bought a brand-new car, promised to furnish my apartment in school, and even changed my phone.

At first, I was so grateful. It felt like a blessing — like we were both stepping into a new, brighter season. I was proud of him, proud of us. I told myself his success was our success, and his happiness was my happiness. But there was one thing I didn't see coming: his need for control.

Dami never liked me making friends. Any time I mentioned meeting new people, he'd get upset, accusing me of trying to replace him or wanting attention from others. I brushed it off in the beginning — I thought maybe he was just being protective. I didn't realize it was the first sign of something much darker.

It started with little things. If I went out with my classmates, he'd call me non-stop, demanding to know where I was and who I was with. If I didn't pick up on the first ring, he'd accuse me of ignoring him. If I laughed a little too loudly while talking on the phone, he'd want to know who I was speaking to and why I sounded so happy.

At first, I saw it as love — twisted, possessive love, but love nonetheless. I thought his jealousy meant he cared. But I didn't realize then that love shouldn't feel suffocating.

Before I left for school, something happened that shook him. He had a serious fallout with some of his close friends — a situation so bad it nearly cost him his life. The details were messy and painful, and while I never got the full story, I knew it left him broken and paranoid. He became distant, shutting out everyone around him except me.

I wanted to help him. I wanted to be his safe space. So when I suggested he come stay with me in school for a while — just until things settled down — I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought being close to me would help him heal.

When he finally agreed, I felt relieved. But things only got worse from there.

There was this final-year student named Jerry — a 4L student who'd been a huge help to me when I was still sorting out my school biometrics and registration. He was kind, and always willing to lend a hand when I was overwhelmed with the stress of settling into university life. I never saw anything more than friendship there — and I thought Dami understood that.

But when Dami joined me in school, his insecurities flared up. He became suspicious of every guy I talked to — and Jerry was at the top of that list.

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Dami would say, his eyes dark and serious.

"He's just helping me out, babe. It's nothing," I'd reply, but my words never seemed to calm him.

It didn't take long before Dami's accusations turned into demands.

"Block him. Delete his number. I don't want you talking to him again."

I hesitated, but I wanted peace. I wanted to prove to Dami that he had nothing to worry about — that he was the only one I cared about. So I did it. I blocked Jerry and deleted his contact. I told myself it wasn't a big deal — that Dami just needed reassurance. But deep down, it hurt. I was starting to feel isolated.

The days leading up to my matriculation were supposed to be filled with excitement and joy. I had worked so hard to get into university, and this day felt like a celebration of all those efforts. But instead, I walked on eggshells, afraid of doing anything that might set Dami off.

On the morning of my matriculation, Jerry called me from another number. I shouldn't have picked up — I knew that. But a part of me still felt guilty for cutting him off without an explanation.

"Hey, I just wanted to check if you're okay," he said warmly. "It's your big day. Congratulations."

Before I could respond, Dami walked into the room and heard the conversation. And that was it.

"Who was that?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"It's… it's just Jerry. He was just.

Before I could finish, he snatched my phone out of my hand. His face twisted with rage.

"You think I'm a fool?" he shouted. "You're still talking to him behind my back?"

"Dami, it's not like that,

The slap came so fast I didn't even see it coming. My face stung, and my vision blurred with tears.

"You're disrespecting me," he hissed.

My heart pounded as I stared at him, my cheek burning, my mind struggling to catch up with what just happened. This was supposed to be my day. My moment. But instead, it was ruined and shattered by the person who claimed to love me.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. I forced a smile through the ceremony, but inside, I felt hollow. When my friends asked why I was so quiet, I lied and said I wasn't feeling well. I didn't tell anyone about the slap. I didn't tell anyone about the way Dami had grabbed my wrist so tightly it left bruises.

That night, Dami apologized.

"I was just angry," he said softly, his fingers brushing against the spot where he'd hit me. "I love you so much, and I can't stand the thought of losing you. You know I didn't mean it, right?"

I nodded because I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that the slap was a mistake and a one-time thing. But a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that this was just the beginning.

In the weeks that followed, Dami's control tightened. He didn't want me to go out unless he was with me. He didn't want me to make friends, especially not male friends. If I spent too long talking to anyone, he'd question me endlessly when we got home.

The isolation grew heavier. I stopped attending group discussions, afraid that Dami would accuse me of flirting with someone. I kept my phone on silent, scared that an unexpected call or message would set him off.

And yet, through it all, I stayed. Because every time he hurt me, he apologized. Every time he broke me down, he promised to build me back up.

"I just love you so much," he'd whisper against my hair. "I'm only like this because I'm scared of losing you."

And I believed him.

I believed him because I wanted so desperately for our love to work. I believed him because I thought love meant sacrifice and even when that sacrifice was my happiness.

But the night of my matriculation should have been my warning. That slap was more than just a burst of anger. It was a preview of the storm that was coming.

And I was nowhere near ready for what came next.