Damaged

The sound of my phone vibrating on the wooden bedside table jolted me awake. Eyes heavy with sleep, I squinted at the screen to read a message from my friend, Albert.

“Hi Pat. Check your DM…” were the first words on the notification. “It’s about your girl…” followed almost immediately as I picked up the phone.

I clenched my jaw and let out a frustrated breath.

“Hey bro, what’s up with your usual chitchat?” I texted back.

“I saw your girlfriend today at Tropicana with a guy…” his next message came in almost instantly.

“I’m not interested. Jane and I aren’t together anymore,” I replied.

“What happened?” Albert probed, poking his nose in as usual.

“I’m not in the mood for a lengthy explanation. Just know that Jane and I are no longer together,” I shot back.

I dropped the phone angrily, glanced at the wall clock above me, and realized I was almost late for my reading class. My exams were only days away, but the days leading up to them had been hell—perhaps the most traumatic days of my life.

As I dressed and tried to shake off the tension, my thoughts drifted. This generation is something else. People are so emotionally damaged that they mistake lust for love. Relationships have become less about commitment and more about blame games. No one wants to take responsibility anymore.

Caught in my thoughts, the phone vibrated again.

“Hi, dear!” came a voice on the other end. I couldn’t place it immediately, but I knew it was a woman. After everything I had just been through with Jane, I was like a wounded lion—wary of entering the forest again. That experience had left me changed. I had started seeing women differently, with growing suspicion and quiet resentment. Maybe I wasn’t the only one scarred. Maybe we’re all just broken—too broken to truly love anymore. Hurt seems to have replaced love in our hearts.

“Hi, who’s on the line, please?” I asked coldly.

“Pat, don’t tell me you don’t recognize my voice. And why are you sounding so harsh?” she asked.

“I’m not up for small talk,” I replied. “Just introduce yourself and get to the point.”

“It’s me, Mary…”

Before she could say another word, I noticed she was sobbing. Mary was a close friend from school. We had stayed in touch over the years, though not frequently—out of respect for our privacies. It was a code we lived by.

“Mary, what’s wrong?” I asked, more concerned now.

“I caught my boyfriend cheating this afternoon…” she struggled to get the words out.

I knew how that felt. Just days ago, I had gone through the same pain. My girlfriend—the one I’d made plans with—was having an affair with someone she once introduced to me as “just a friend.” When I confronted her about it, she dismissed my concerns and accused me of being insecure.

“Nowadays, anyone who wants to cheat will brand you insecure just for asking questions,” I said, my voice calm but heavy. “It’s a common trend.”

I felt sorry for her. I encouraged her to pull herself together, assuring her that this toxic cycle of careless relationships and emotional damage would eventually come to an end.

“I’m done with men,” she said, her voice trembling. “I swear I’ll never see them the same again.”

I understood her frustration—deeply. I had felt the same way not long ago.

“It’s hard not to generalize,” I said gently. “But don’t let one person’s betrayal define everyone. You’re strong, Mary. And you’ll get through this.”

My words seemed to give her a small sense of peace. And for now, that was enough as she thanked me and hangup.

By Patrick Ekong ©️