I’m Anyango from Kisumu. Philip and I met back in college, dated for years, and finally settled into a simple, sweet life. I sell mitumba at Kibuye Market; he fixes cars at the garage. Nothing fancy, but we had each other—that’s what I kept telling myself. Then he started changing, little by little. He’d roll in late, barely look at me, or snap when I asked how his day was. I blamed the long hours, the heat, anything.
I cooked his favourite fish, wore the dresses he once loved, and even tried cracking silly jokes to make him smile. Nothing. Our house turned quiet in the worst way. He’d sit on the couch scrolling, laughing at messages I wasn’t allowed to see. He stopped touching me, stopped eating my food, and stopped acting like my husband.
One Sunday morning I was packing a basket to visit my mum in Bondo. I asked, “Babe, do you want anything from Shags? ” He looked up, cold as stone, and said, “I don’t love you anymore, Anyango. When you go to your mother’s, just stay there.” I swear the basket almost dropped from my hands. My chest went tight, legs weak. He just walked out like he’d asked me to buy paraffin. In that moment, everything we built felt like it vanished. I stood there shaking, wondering how the man I loved could throw me away so easily. Read more: https://drbokko.com/? p=35022
