I Was 19 and He Was 41. It Was Not Love. It Was a Lesson I Paid For.

Back in 2019, I was 19, fresh from secondary school, waiting to gain admission. My mother sent me to Aba to stay with her elder sister and learn tailoring. That was where I met Uncle K, my auntie's neighbor. He was 41, a trader at Ariaria, always buying me soft drinks and asking about my future. At first, I thought he was just kind. Then the gifts became money, small amounts like 2,000 naira. Then one evening, he called me to his shop to 'help him arrange goods.' Before I knew what was happening, he had locked the door. I was too scared to scream. He gave me 10,000 naira after and said if I told anyone, he would deny it and say I was a prostitute. I carried that shame for months. I stopped sleeping, stopped eating. My auntie thought I was sick. I never told her. I just told my mother I wanted to come home, and she said okay. It took me two years and a church camp to finally speak to a counselor. She told me it was not my fault. That was the first time I cried about it. Now I am 23, and I still flinch when a man older than my father speaks to me softly. But I am healing. If you are a young girl reading this, know that a man's money is not worth your silence. And if you are a parent, please teach your daughters that their body is not a bargaining chip. No amount of Naira can buy back what was stolen.