This is the last part of a three-part series. Links to the next parts are at the end of the story.
Ivy broke up with me in December over something personal to her. It was serious, and she thought breaking up was the best thing to do. I convinced her otherwise, and we got back together the next day.
About two to three weeks later, I broke up with her. But again, we got back together.
But then came the final blow soon after.
Throughout 2024, she told me how much she hated Lagos. She hated her job. She wanted to come home. And I wanted that too. I had a job, had some money saved up. I could take her out, buy her things, take care of her bills until she was able to find her feet again, see her every day.
That was all I wanted. For her to come back.
Then one day in January 2025, she called me sounding all excited. She had gone out to a party, and she was glowing with energy, saying Lagos wasn’t so bad anymore. Her job wasn’t so bad. She could see herself staying.
I lost it.
All year, she had said the opposite, and suddenly, this? That was when it hit me, there was no plan anymore. There was no plan for us to be together again in the same city, no plan for me to move to Lagos and none for her to return to Port Harcourt.
So I gave up.
And I turned to the next person. Not porn this time, it was my coworker and assistant, Chika. I invited her over. She came, we had sex. I cheated on Ivy again. It happened twice.
About a month later, I wasn’t really talking to Ivy anymore. We still said good morning and good night, but during the day, nothing. The distance was growing. If she had stayed in Lagos, it probably would have just faded away.
But in some shocking twist, she quit her job and came home. Just like that.
I was already planning how I’d end it for good. I’d planned the call, the breakup speech, everything. Then suddenly, she was back. When she arrived, she told me she hadn’t gotten the scholarship she’d been hoping for. On top of that, she wasn’t feeling well, something serious, something that required surgery.
She was broken, and I couldn’t bring myself to add more pain. So I put a break on my breakup plans. I would do it later, I thought. But when Ivy came back, I fell for her again. She was still the same Ivy. I still loved her. So I thought, let’s just keep dating and see how it goes.
One day when she wasn’t feeling well, I left work early, bought her medicine, helped her take it, tucked her in bed, and went to watch a movie. I left my phone in the bedroom.
She came out to the living room, stood in front of me, and asked,
“Who is Chika?”
And just like that, it all came tumbling down.
She cried, deeply and bitterly. I tried to comfort her. But how do you console someone who trusted you completely and got betrayal in return? It felt like I was the most horrible person ever. I felt like the worst person alive.
I had stayed clean all year, no cheating, until the very last minute, right before 2025. And I ruined everything.
The next day, she came back still angry, of course. She shouted. Called me names. And I got angry too. I said things I wish I never said, words I couldn’t take back. It hurt her deeply. She didn’t expect those kinds of words from me.
It nearly turned into a physical fight. I left the house. Went to work. Didn’t come back until she’d gone to her family’s house.
That was the end. That was how we broke up for real.
For the next month, I told myself I didn’t need her. That I was good. That I’d moved on.
But the truth?
Throughout 2024, because I had cheated, I became a ‘yes man.’ I couldn’t say no to her. I felt like I owed her. Buy this? Yes. Send me this? Yes. Even things I couldn’t afford, yes. But now that she had left me for what seemed like forever, I was miserable without her.
Fast forward to her birthday. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. That’s when my journey began.
I started watching videos, listening to real doctors talk about porn and its effects on the brain. The more I listened, the more I saw myself in what they described. The patterns. The behavior. It was all me. I started realizing: our relationship didn’t crumble because of her or distance or Lagos. It crumbled because of me.
I destroyed it.
This was someone I loved more than anything, and yet I kept hurting her. I kept doing the very thing that would break her. And I couldn’t understand why.
That’s when I knew I had to apologize. Truly.
By July, months after the cheating and breakup, I messaged her. Surprisingly, she replied a day later.
I asked if I could see her. She said no. I begged. She finally agreed. We met at a public gym. She was cautious. I was hurt, but I understood.
I brought a letter I had written. It contained my apology and explained some details on how we got to the point we were in. I read it to her.
She said it was okay. She was moving on.
Still, we talked. I explained everything, about the porn, the cheating, the root of it all. She understood everything and didn’t hate me. It was just that she felt disappointed but despite that, she still wanted me to do well.
Before I left, I told her I still loved her.
And for what it’s worth, she gave me a ride home.
As soon as I got back, I picked up my tablet and started recording this story. I don’t know, Eve, maybe I still want her back. But I also know I’m not ready for a relationship right now. I’m still figuring things out.
I’m three weeks clean from porn now. Just three. And even though I had relapses where I would open a site, glance at it, then close it, but I don’t count those anymore.
For the past three weeks, I haven’t touched porn at all. Nothing.
And I’m hoping, hoping earnestly that maybe, just maybe, one day, I’ll be able to love Ivy again the way she deserves to be loved.
No porn, other women, or lust.
Just love.
There will be arguments, sure. But I want to love her for real this time. I still love her. And I hope somehow that we find our way back to each other.
But if she doesn’t want that, I get it.
I don’t blame her, I messed it up. That’s on me.
Still, I hope the next time I record something like this, It’ll be us together again. Happy.
The end!
He asked that you read with empathy, and now he’s asking for something else: your thoughts. What would you have done in his place?
This is the last part of this story. Read the previous parts and other series here.
Want to share your story? Click this link, we’d love to hear from you!
