Please keep me anonymous. My name is Akua, and I’m 29 years old. I’ve been married to my husband, Kofi, for four years. We live in Sunyani, and although we’re not rich, we’ve managed to build a comfortable life together. Our marriage has always been built on love and trust, and we had dreams of starting a family. But after two years of trying, those dreams started to feel impossible.

When we couldn’t conceive, we decided to see a doctor, and that’s when everything fell apart. I was diagnosed with severe infertility issues—I couldn’t conceive naturally. The news was devastating. I felt like I had failed Kofi, like I had failed us. We tried everything we could—medical treatments, herbal remedies, even prayers—but nothing worked. The doctors were clear: there was nothing more they could do.

As time went on, the weight of it all began to pull us apart. Kofi tried his best to comfort me, but intimacy became impossible. We were both grieving, and the thought of being close in that way just didn’t feel right anymore.

In my desperation, I confided in a close friend about our situation. She suggested something I never thought I’d consider—sleeping with another man to get pregnant. The idea seemed impossible, but as the days passed, I thought of the embarrassment from society if I was indeed barren, the pressure will be unbearable. I started to consider it. My friend kept pushing, telling me it was the only way to give Kofi the child we both wanted so badly.

There was a man at work, Jake, who had always shown interest in me. He knew I was married, but that didn’t stop him from flirting. He was charming, and despite my situation, he made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time—wanted. One evening during a night shift, it was just Jake and me in the office. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel his eyes on me as we worked.

He walked over to my desk, leaning casually against it. “You’ve been quiet tonight, Akua. Everything okay?”

I hesitated before replying, “Just a lot on my mind, Jake.”

He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “You know, you can talk to me if you need to. I’m here for you.”

His words felt like a lifeline, and before I knew it, I was pouring out my heart to him. I told him about my struggles, my fears, and the overwhelming guilt that was eating me alive. Jake listened, his expression soft and understanding.

Before I knew it, the conversation took a turn. Jake’s comforting words became softer, more intimate. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering a moment too long. “Akua, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to feel loved.”

I don’t know what came over me, but in that moment, the loneliness and despair I had been feeling for so long took over. I let him kiss me, and one thing led to another. It was a decision I regret deeply, but at the time, it felt like the only way out of the darkness I was drowning in.

Three weeks later, I started feeling sick. My husband, concerned, took me to the hospital, and that’s when the doctor told us the news—I was pregnant. For a moment, Kofi was overjoyed. He was shouting with tears of happiness at Sunyani Regional Hospital, telling everyone who would listen that he was going to be a father.

After seeing the medical report which said I was just three weeks pregnant, I saw the change in his face. His joy turned to confusion, then to anger and disbelief. During that time, Kofi and I hadn’t been intimate. He had been comforting me through my grief, but we hadn’t been close in that way.

Now, I’m afraid that Kofi will decide to divorce me. He has stopped talking to me and refuses to eat the food I prepare, but he ensures that a personal nurse and doctor attend to me and my pregnancy every week. The silence and distance between us are painful, and I fear that the strain on our marriage may be too great to overcome.

I’m at a loss for how to repair the damage and rebuild our relationship. I wish for understanding, forgiveness, and a way to move forward, but right now, I’m overwhelmed and uncertain about what the future holds.