Lost Once, Forbidden Now: Episode 1
By Adebanke Abel
This was not the life she wanted. No, it wasn't anywhere close.
But...
At eighteen, she became a bride—not for love, not for joy, not for the kind of marriage that girls her age daydreamed about. She became a bride to save her father. A desperate man drowning in debt, facing the shame of imprisonment, and she? She was the sacrifice that kept him free.
Her husband was twice her age, a man who saw her as an acquisition, not a partner. He had saved her family name, paid the price for her father’s recklessness, and in return, she belonged to him.
For years, Adaeze lived in a home where love was a foreign language. She gave birth to Ifunaya at 19. She was a wife in name only, a mother by obligation, a shadow of the girl who once dreamed of art, color, and freedom.
And then, he died.
People expected her to grieve. Instead, she exhaled for the first time in years. By then, she was twenty-six with a seven year old Ifunaya at hand and a heart that had learned to live without love.
So, she made a decision.
She would build a life for herself and her daughter. A life that did not revolve around a man’s approval, a man’s presence, or a man’s absence. And for eighteen years, she kept that promise. She went back to school. She started a thriving business. She became a woman of grace, power, and self-sufficiency.
At forty-four, Adaeze was a woman who turned heads—not because she sought attention, but because she carried herself like she owned the world. People mistook her for Ifunanya’s older sister, and Adaeze did not correct them.
It was proof.
Proof that a woman could survive without being broken.
______
It had been years since Adaeze stepped into a gallery.
Art had once been her passion—her first love, her secret escape—until her parents dismissed it as childish fantasies that would never put food on the table.
Or so she thought. Because as she stood in front of a breathtaking canvas—deep blues swirling into gold, like the sky before a storm—something inside her stirred.
"You’re staring at that painting like you want to steal it."
Adaeze blinked, drawn out of her thoughts. Beside her stood a man—tall, lean, with an easy confidence that settled around him like a well-tailored suit. His eyes held a spark of amusement, like he had been watching her for a while.
"Excuse me?" She turned fully toward him, arching a brow.
He tucked his hands into his pockets, smirking. "I was just saying, you’ve been looking at that painting for so long, I was starting to wonder if you were planning to take it home without paying."
Adaeze let out an unexpected laugh. "And if I was?" she played along.
"Then I’d have to help you with the getaway plan," he said smoothly. "No one should be deprived of something they clearly love."
She shook her head, amused despite herself.
"I don’t steal," she said.
"Good to know," he replied. "But do you create?"
Adaeze hesitated. "I used to," she admitted, her voice softer now.
"Ah." He studied her. "Let me guess. Someone convinced you it wasn’t practical?"
Adaeze exhaled slowly. "Something like that."
He hummed, tilting his head toward the painting. "And do you regret listening to them?"
That question hit her harder than she expected. Did she regret it? Hadn’t she built a great life? A successful business? Hadn’t she survived? But was surviving the same as living?She had no answer for him.
Perhaps he saw that in her silence because he smiled and said, "It’s never too late to start again." And just like that, he left something in her heart that refused to be ignored.
They talked for almost an hour after that. She learned his name. Chidi.
Younger than her, yes, but his mind was deep, his voice steady, his words like paint strokes against a blank canvas. He listened in a way no man ever had before.
Before they parted, he said, "I’d love to be there when you open your art gallery someday." And for the first time in years, Adaeze imagined it. She imagined a space filled with her work. She imagined creating again. She imagined allowing herself to dream.
They exchanged numbers. And that night, for the first time in a long, long time, Adaeze fell asleep with a smile on her face. The next day, she waited for his call. By evening, she sent a message. By the next day, her texts remained unread. By the third day, she called. By the fourth, she stopped. By the seventh, she deleted his number.
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