When I turned twenty-five, he explained that his business had suffered unexpected losses.
At twenty-six, he promised that the following year would be different.
Every year brought a new reason to wait, and every reason sounded convincing because I wanted so badly to believe him.
I rejected other men who approached me. Some were serious, respectful, and financially stable. One even sent his older sister to speak with my family about marriage.
I declined them all.
“What if Daniel finally comes for you?” my mother once asked.
“He will, Mama,” I answered. “He has promised me.”
My mother would look at me for a long moment, but she never forced me to make a decision. She knew how deeply I loved him.
What she did not know was how much of myself I had already sacrificed to keep that relationship alive.
When Daniel’s business struggled, I lent him money from my savings. When he couldn’t pay his shop rent, I helped him. When he fell ill with a severe fever, I spent two nights beside his bed, checking his temperature and preparing food he barely touched.
