For the first time, I allowed myself to think about what I wanted beyond Wale, Lola and the arrangement that had controlled my life for years.
I wanted a fresh start. I wanted to meet a responsible man, fall in love, get married and have more children. I wanted to build a home where I would not have to hide my identity or explain why the father of my child belonged to another woman. I wanted to wake up every morning without worrying about what Wale would say or what Lola might discover next.
But I wanted to achieve all these things far away from that environment.
The problem was my son.
He was only three years old, and I couldn’t imagine living without him. Every time I looked at his pictures, I wondered what would happen if I handed him over to Wale and Lola as they had planned. Would he grow up calling Lola his mother? Would he eventually forget that I was the woman who carried him for nine months, endured the pain of childbirth and stayed awake through countless nights to care for him?
Would I become nothing more than a stranger who visited him occasionally?
That thought terrified me.
On the other hand, I knew that leaving the country with him without informing Wale could create serious problems. Wale had already made it clear that he wanted his son close to him. He had refused to let me relocate with the child, and I knew he would not take kindly to discovering that I had left without his permission.
I was trapped between two difficult choices.
Should I give my son to Wale and Lola and try to rebuild my life without him, or should I take the risk of leaving the country with him?
I spent several nights thinking about it.
Eventually, fear of losing my son pushed me towards a decision.
I was going to relocate to the United Kingdom with him without informing Wale or Lola.
I knew it wasn’t a decision I could make lightly, and I understood that leaving secretly could have serious consequences. But whenever I imagined handing my son over to another woman and watching him grow up in a home where I might eventually have little or no place, my heart couldn’t bear it.
Their plan was to take him when he turned five. He was only three, which meant I had roughly two years before the arrangement they had discussed became a reality.
I decided I couldn’t continue waiting for that day to arrive.
I started researching the requirements for relocating to the UK with my son. I gathered information, arranged my documents and began the application process quietly. I didn’t tell anyone at work, and I certainly didn’t tell Lola.
Whenever she called or sent me a message, I responded as normally as possible.
Sometimes, I felt guilty when she spoke to me. I would remember how she had trusted me before everything fell apart, and I wondered whether I was preparing to betray her all over again.
But then I would look at my son and remind myself that I needed to make decisions about my own future.
I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life waiting for Wale to decide what role I was allowed to play in my child’s life.
The travelling process wasn’t easy. There were documents to gather, forms to complete, appointments to attend and several things I had to put in order. I was careful not to let my plans become obvious to anyone around me.
My son was still attending school, and I continued taking him there as usual. I went to work, attended to my responsibilities and maintained my normal routine, even though my mind was constantly occupied with the future.
Whenever Wale called to ask about his son, I answered his questions. I didn’t want him to suspect anything before I had a clear outcome from the visa process.
Lola and I also continued working together, although our relationship was no longer what it used to be. We greeted each other, discussed work and occasionally exchanged a few words, but the closeness we once shared had disappeared.
I knew she was still hurt by what I had done, and I couldn’t blame her.
However, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about my plans.
I was afraid that if she knew, she would inform Wale, and he would do everything possible to stop me.
Then came the day of our visa interview.
I woke up early that morning, dressed my son neatly and checked our documents several times before leaving the house. I tried to remain calm, but my hands were trembling.
On our way, I kept looking at my son in the back seat.
He was excited about going somewhere new, completely unaware of the complicated decisions his mother was making on his behalf.
I wondered whether he would eventually thank me for trying to give him a different life or blame me for taking him away from the father he knew.
When we arrived, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was doing this because I wanted a future where my son and I could live without constantly being caught between Wale and Lola.
The interview went ahead, and we completed the necessary process.
Afterwards, all I could do was wait.
Those waiting days were some of the longest days of my life. Every time my phone rang, my heart jumped. I kept checking my messages and emails, hoping to receive good news.
I tried not to discuss the application with anyone.
Then, one afternoon, the message finally arrived.
Our visas had been granted.
I read the message once.
Then I read it again.
I couldn’t believe it.
I covered my mouth and started crying, but this time, they were tears of happiness. I held my son tightly and kissed his face repeatedly.
For the first time in years, I felt that I might finally have a chance to build a life of my own.
I imagined us settling into a new home, my son starting school in a new environment and me finding opportunities to grow professionally. I imagined meeting someone who would love me without asking me to hide, someone who would accept my son as his own and help me build the kind of family I had always wanted.
That day, I was genuinely happy.
But the happiness didn’t last without questions.
As I sat on my bed that evening, staring at the visa approval, reality slowly began to sink in.
Wale didn’t know.
Lola didn’t know.
Neither of them knew that I had started the process, attended the interview and received approval to relocate with their son.
I had made the decision alone, and now I had to face what might happen when they discovered it.
I wondered whether Wale would accuse me of taking his son away from him. I wondered whether Lola would feel that I had betrayed her for the second time. I wondered whether she would ever understand why I had been so afraid of handing my child over to them.
Part of me wanted to call her.
I wanted to tell her that I was leaving and give her an opportunity to hear it from me rather than discovering it through someone else.
But I was afraid.
What if she told Wale immediately?
What if he tried to stop us before we could leave?
What if everything I had worked for collapsed at the last minute?
I looked at my son sleeping peacefully beside me and gently brushed his hair away from his forehead.
He had no idea what was happening.
All he knew was that his mother loved him.
And whatever mistakes I had made in the past, I knew I couldn’t imagine a future without him.
Still, one question continued to disturb me.
I had spent years hiding the truth from Lola, and now I was preparing to leave the country without telling either of them.
I had told myself that this was my chance to escape and start again, but I couldn’t ignore the possibility that my decision would cause another painful confrontation.
Was I finally choosing my own future, or was I about to make another decision that would hurt everyone involved?
I didn’t know the answer.
All I knew was that our visas had been approved, my son was only three, and I had no intention of waiting until his fifth birthday before deciding what happened to our lives.
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