SHE CALLED ME BROKE AND LEFT ME FOR A RICH-YAHOO BOY–SHE BEG WITH HER BABY ON HER BACK.
Episode 1
My name is Emeka.
And if I tell you that love nearly destroyed me, I’m not lying.
It all started four years ago. I had just gotten a job at a mechanic workshop in town. Life wasn’t perfect, but at least I was earning something small every week. I was the kind of man who believed in building slowly. I believed in love that starts from nothing and grows into something big. You know that kind of love where two people support each other through struggles and rise together? That’s the love I wanted.
And then… I met her. Anita.
She was a student at the polytechnic. I used to see her every day pass by my workshop, holding her books close to her chest. She always wore simple clothes, nothing expensive, but her beauty? Her beauty could stop traffic.
One day, I gathered the courage and greeted her. She smiled. That one smile gave me hope for weeks. From there, we became friends. I started walking her to her hostel. We would talk about school, life, dreams. I told her I wanted to own my own car repair garage one day. She told me she wanted to work in a bank.
We were both dreamers. And we had nothing—just big hearts and high hopes.
I remember when she told me her parents were struggling to pay her school fees. Without thinking twice, I gave her almost all my savings. I had been keeping that money to buy better tools for my work, but I didn’t care. I told myself, “She’s my woman. If she’s in pain, I should be the one to help her.”
I didn’t buy clothes for myself for a whole year. I didn’t go out. Every naira I had, I gave to her. I bought her data for online classes. I bought her slippers when hers tore. I even gave her money to send to her sick mother in the village.
But you know the worst part?
I didn’t complain.
I was happy doing all that because I believed… I believed she was the one. I believed that one day, when things got better, we would look back and smile at all we had suffered together.
People told me, “Emeka, be careful. Girls can change.” But I didn’t listen. I thought, “Not Anita. She’s different.”
Until things slowly started to change.
She became distant. She stopped picking my calls the way she used to. When I came to her hostel, she would say she was busy or about to sleep. One day I went to surprise her with food I cooked from home—jollof rice with fried meat. I knocked on her door, and she shouted, “Go away! I’m not in the mood!”
That night, I cried on my way back. I held the food in my hand like a fool.
Then she started dressing differently. More expensive clothes, nails done, new wigs… I knew I didn’t buy any of them. I asked, “Where are you getting all this from?” She said her uncle was helping her.
Uncle?
Which uncle?
I wasn’t ******. But I didn’t want to believe the truth.
One evening, I followed her from school without her knowing. She entered a black Benz parked down the street. A guy with tattoos and gold chain opened the door for her. She kissed him. I saw it.
I didn’t even know when I started crying right there by the roadside.
She was cheating on me… with a Yahoo boy.
The next day, I went to see her. I wanted to talk like a man. I wanted to beg if I had to. I wanted to remind her of everything we had shared.
But she didn’t even allow me to talk.
She looked me in the eyes and said, “Emeka, let’s not waste each other’s time. You’re a good guy, but you’re too broke. I can’t be living like this when there are men out there who can give me the world. You’re not the kind of man I want anymore.”
Just like that.
Four years of love. Four years of sacrifice. Four years of giving her my heart.
She dropped it on the ground and crushed it with her feet.
I walked out of her hostel that day with tears in my eyes, shame in my chest, and pain in my soul.
I was finished.
But that was only the beginning.
After that day, everything changed.
I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. My friends kept telling me to forget her, to move on, but they didn’t understand. How do you forget someone who became part of your every day? How do you erase the memories of walking her to school, of laughing over roasted corn by the roadside, of planning a future together?
I dragged myself to work each morning, but I was like a ghost. I would hold a spanner and forget what I was fixing. My boss had to call me one day and ask if everything was okay. I lied and said I was fine. But deep down, I was broken.
And while I struggled, Anita was living her best life.
Her social media was filled with pictures—her sitting inside flashy cars, holding iPhones, wearing new wigs, eating at restaurants I could never afford. It was like she was rubbing it in my face, showing me what she had now that I wasn’t enough for her.
She started wearing makeup every day, long eyelashes, painted nails. She even started bleaching her skin. The Anita I knew was slowly fading away, turning into someone else—someone I couldn’t recognize.
My friends showed me pictures of her with the Yahoo boy. His name was Dapo. He was tall, with tattoos all over his arms and gold chains hanging from his neck. He always had wads of cash in his hands, posing with cars that probably didn’t even belong to him.
People whispered that Dapo was dangerous. They said he didn’t just scam people online—he did rituals too. I didn’t want to believe it. But I knew that money… that kind of money doesn’t come clean.
But Anita didn’t care. She was in love with the money, not the man. She was flying to Abuja, going to Lagos, staying in hotels I could only dream of. My own Anita. The girl I sacrificed everything for.
One day, I was sitting outside the workshop, drinking pure water after a long day. I heard loud music, and before I could turn around, a black Benz parked right in front of me.
I almost choked.
Anita stepped out, her long wig bouncing on her shoulders, her lips painted bright red. She was wearing a short gown, one that didn’t even reach her knees. She was glowing—but not the kind of glow that comes from happiness. It was the kind that comes from vanity.
And then I saw him. Dapo. He stepped out from the driver’s side, tossing his car keys in the air, laughing loudly like the whole world belonged to him. He didn’t even look my way; to him, I was invisible.
Anita saw me. I was standing there, dusty from work, my hands still smelling of engine oil, my shirt torn at the edge. She looked at me and smiled, but not the smile I remembered. It was the kind of smile you give to someone you pity. She whispered something to Dapo, and they both burst out laughing.
I wanted to disappear. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. But I stood there, frozen, my hands clenched into fists.
Dapo grabbed her waist, pulled her close, and they kissed right there in front of me. Long and deep. I looked away. My chest burned with pain I couldn’t explain. My hands shook, my eyes watered, but I refused to cry.
When I finally gathered myself to turn back, they were gone. The Benz had driven away, leaving me standing there alone, broken.
My friends came and patted my back. “Forget her, Emeka. Forget her. That’s not love. That’s just greed.”
But they didn’t understand. I still loved her. Even after everything, I still loved her. My heart refused to let go.
But love isn’t enough when someone chooses money over your soul.
SHE CALLED ME BROKE AND LEFT ME FOR A RICH-YAHOO BOY–SHE BEG WITH HER BABY ON HER BACK.
Episode 1
My name is Emeka.
And if I tell you that love nearly destroyed me, I’m not lying.
It all started four years ago. I had just gotten a job at a mechanic workshop in town. Life wasn’t perfect, but at least I was earning something small every week. I was the kind of man who believed in building slowly. I believed in love that starts from nothing and grows into something big. You know that kind of love where two people support each other through struggles and rise together? That’s the love I wanted.
And then… I met her. Anita.
She was a student at the polytechnic. I used to see her every day pass by my workshop, holding her books close to her chest. She always wore simple clothes, nothing expensive, but her beauty? Her beauty could stop traffic.
One day, I gathered the courage and greeted her. She smiled. That one smile gave me hope for weeks. From there, we became friends. I started walking her to her hostel. We would talk about school, life, dreams. I told her I wanted to own my own car repair garage one day. She told me she wanted to work in a bank.
We were both dreamers. And we had nothing—just big hearts and high hopes.
I remember when she told me her parents were struggling to pay her school fees. Without thinking twice, I gave her almost all my savings. I had been keeping that money to buy better tools for my work, but I didn’t care. I told myself, “She’s my woman. If she’s in pain, I should be the one to help her.”
I didn’t buy clothes for myself for a whole year. I didn’t go out. Every naira I had, I gave to her. I bought her data for online classes. I bought her slippers when hers tore. I even gave her money to send to her sick mother in the village.
But you know the worst part?
I didn’t complain.
I was happy doing all that because I believed… I believed she was the one. I believed that one day, when things got better, we would look back and smile at all we had suffered together.
People told me, “Emeka, be careful. Girls can change.” But I didn’t listen. I thought, “Not Anita. She’s different.”
Until things slowly started to change.
She became distant. She stopped picking my calls the way she used to. When I came to her hostel, she would say she was busy or about to sleep. One day I went to surprise her with food I cooked from home—jollof rice with fried meat. I knocked on her door, and she shouted, “Go away! I’m not in the mood!”
That night, I cried on my way back. I held the food in my hand like a fool.
Then she started dressing differently. More expensive clothes, nails done, new wigs… I knew I didn’t buy any of them. I asked, “Where are you getting all this from?” She said her uncle was helping her.
Uncle?
Which uncle?
I wasn’t stupid. But I didn’t want to believe the truth.
One evening, I followed her from school without her knowing. She entered a black Benz parked down the street. A guy with tattoos and gold chain opened the door for her. She kissed him. I saw it.
I didn’t even know when I started crying right there by the roadside.
She was cheating on me… with a Yahoo boy.
The next day, I went to see her. I wanted to talk like a man. I wanted to beg if I had to. I wanted to remind her of everything we had shared.
But she didn’t even allow me to talk.
She looked me in the eyes and said, “Emeka, let’s not waste each other’s time. You’re a good guy, but you’re too broke. I can’t be living like this when there are men out there who can give me the world. You’re not the kind of man I want anymore.”
Just like that.
Four years of love. Four years of sacrifice. Four years of giving her my heart.
She dropped it on the ground and crushed it with her feet.
I walked out of her hostel that day with tears in my eyes, shame in my chest, and pain in my soul.
I was finished.
But that was only the beginning.
After that day, everything changed.
I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. My friends kept telling me to forget her, to move on, but they didn’t understand. How do you forget someone who became part of your every day? How do you erase the memories of walking her to school, of laughing over roasted corn by the roadside, of planning a future together?
I dragged myself to work each morning, but I was like a ghost. I would hold a spanner and forget what I was fixing. My boss had to call me one day and ask if everything was okay. I lied and said I was fine. But deep down, I was broken.
And while I struggled, Anita was living her best life.
Her social media was filled with pictures—her sitting inside flashy cars, holding iPhones, wearing new wigs, eating at restaurants I could never afford. It was like she was rubbing it in my face, showing me what she had now that I wasn’t enough for her.
She started wearing makeup every day, long eyelashes, painted nails. She even started bleaching her skin. The Anita I knew was slowly fading away, turning into someone else—someone I couldn’t recognize.
My friends showed me pictures of her with the Yahoo boy. His name was Dapo. He was tall, with tattoos all over his arms and gold chains hanging from his neck. He always had wads of cash in his hands, posing with cars that probably didn’t even belong to him.
People whispered that Dapo was dangerous. They said he didn’t just scam people online—he did rituals too. I didn’t want to believe it. But I knew that money… that kind of money doesn’t come clean.
But Anita didn’t care. She was in love with the money, not the man. She was flying to Abuja, going to Lagos, staying in hotels I could only dream of. My own Anita. The girl I sacrificed everything for.
One day, I was sitting outside the workshop, drinking pure water after a long day. I heard loud music, and before I could turn around, a black Benz parked right in front of me.
I almost choked.
Anita stepped out, her long wig bouncing on her shoulders, her lips painted bright red. She was wearing a short gown, one that didn’t even reach her knees. She was glowing—but not the kind of glow that comes from happiness. It was the kind that comes from vanity.
And then I saw him. Dapo. He stepped out from the driver’s side, tossing his car keys in the air, laughing loudly like the whole world belonged to him. He didn’t even look my way; to him, I was invisible.
Anita saw me. I was standing there, dusty from work, my hands still smelling of engine oil, my shirt torn at the edge. She looked at me and smiled, but not the smile I remembered. It was the kind of smile you give to someone you pity. She whispered something to Dapo, and they both burst out laughing.
I wanted to disappear. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. But I stood there, frozen, my hands clenched into fists.
Dapo grabbed her waist, pulled her close, and they kissed right there in front of me. Long and deep. I looked away. My chest burned with pain I couldn’t explain. My hands shook, my eyes watered, but I refused to cry.
When I finally gathered myself to turn back, they were gone. The Benz had driven away, leaving me standing there alone, broken.
My friends came and patted my back. “Forget her, Emeka. Forget her. That’s not love. That’s just greed.”
But they didn’t understand. I still loved her. Even after everything, I still loved her. My heart refused to let go.
But love isn’t enough when someone chooses money over your soul.
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