Title: He Stole My Virginity

Part 1: Innocent Heart

My name is Ifeoluwa, and I grew up in a quiet town in Osun State, Nigeria. I was raised by a single mother who always told me, "Your body is a temple; don’t give it to someone who won’t treat it as holy."

I listened. I was the church girl, the one who wore long skirts and didn't flirt. At 21, I was still a virgin—not because I couldn’t have lost it, but because I believed sex should be special. Sacred.

Then I met Seun.

Part 2: The Perfect Guy

Seun was everything I thought I wanted in a man. He was 25, charming, respectful, and always prayed before eating. He spoke gently, opened doors for me, and quoted scriptures that made my heart melt. Everyone at church called him “Brother Seun the humble.”

We became close. He never pressured me. For the first time, I thought, “Maybe this is the one.”

I told him about my vow to remain a virgin until marriage.

He said, "That’s beautiful. You’re rare. I respect you more because of it."

I believed him.

Part 3: The Trap

Six months into the relationship, he asked me to visit him. He had moved into a new apartment and wanted to “pray over the house” together.

I was nervous. But I went—because I trusted him.

He had cooked for me, played soft gospel music, and even anointed the doorpost with oil. It felt safe. Holy even.

Then it happened.

We were talking. He moved closer. One kiss became two. I resisted. He held me tighter.

I said, "Please, let’s stop."

He said, "Ife, I love you. This is not a sin if it’s done in love."

I panicked. I froze. I said "no" again.

He didn’t stop.

And just like that… the purity I’d guarded for 21 years was gone—in a moment I did not consent to.

Part 4: The Aftermath

After it happened, he got up and said, "You’re now mine completely." Then he asked me to take a bath so he could “cleanse” me.

I couldn’t speak. I felt like my soul had been crushed.

Days later, he stopped picking my calls.

Weeks later, I found out he had another girlfriend in Ibadan… and that she was pregnant.

When I confronted him, he said, "Don’t make noise. You’re not even my wife. It was just a mistake."

Part 5: Healing in Pieces

I broke down. I stopped going to church. I felt dirty, useless, ashamed. I thought I’d never be whole again.

But slowly… through therapy, prayers, and the love of my mother, I started to rise.

I realized I was not what happened to me. I was not ruined. I was still Ifeoluwa.

I began volunteering with girls who had similar stories—girls who thought no one would understand.

I started telling my story.

Part 6: My Voice, My Victory

Today, I speak not as a victim, but as a survivor.

What was stolen from me did not define me. My purity was never just about my body—it was about my heart. And that… is something no one can ever steal again.

Moral of the Story: Trust is sacred. And when it is broken, healing takes time—but it is possible. No one has the right to take from you what you are not willing to give. And if they do, they are the guilty ones—not you.

TO BE CONTINUED

JB WORLD.