MY MILITARY BOYFRIEND AND I
CHAPTER FIVE
Christophe’s demeanor was a paradox; a blend of vitality, tenderness, and tranquility. In his presence, I momentarily forgot the uniform that clung to him. His laughter, warm and genuine, echoed in my head as laid down in bed, and for a second, I wondered if he was more than just a soldier.
But soon I came back to the reality that nothing can ever come out of us unless it was just being friends. The camouflage, the disciplined gait, the unwavering gaze they all reminded me of his true identity. Christophe was a military man, bound by duty and honor. And with that realization came a flood of questions, doubts that churned within me like a tempest.
I had heard the stories, the dark tales whispered in hushed tones. I was scared of the reality. Rumor has it that young ladies who fell into the hands of this strangers ( soldiers) were disowned by their parents and as a result they moved to the other side of the country where they become their third wives or are abandoned after giving birth. They were soldiers, infact their lives didn’t belong to them because at any moment in time they could be sent to war fronts. I thought about this reality and it scared me.
Another reality was that in this side of the country this Soldiers were train to be brutal even with civilians . And on several occasions I heard so many atrocities committed by this men. Especially those who were station around the university. They went on dates with young girls and useless them. Soldiers turned monsters, their humanity stripped away by the brutality of war. Rapists, thieves, cold-blooded murderers the headlines screamed their sins.
Yet, when I looked at Chris, I saw none of that. His eyes held no shadows, no hint of malevolence. Instead, they cradled dreams, hopes, and a longing for something beyond the battlefield.
He confided in me, revealing fragments of his heart. How he yearned for a life beyond the barracks, a love that transcended borders. His confession was both audacious and heartbreaking. He spoke of a lady from this very land, a connection that defied logic.
As I listened, I glimpsed the unseen depths of Christophe. His vulnerability was a chink in the armor, a testament to the human spirit that persisted even amidst chaos. Perhaps it was the weight of his uniform that made him seek solace in her laughter, in the warmth of shared secrets. Or maybe it was the fragility of life—the knowledge that tomorrow’s sunrise might not find him here—that drove him to dream of forever.
In those stolen moments, I wondered: Could love thrive in the crossfire of duty? Could two souls, forged in different fires, find a common hearth? Christophe’s love story defied conventions, and I found myself rooting for him. For in his eyes, I saw not a soldier, but a man… a man who dared to love against the odds.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the barracks. Christophe’s eyes held a distant sadness as he recounted his past—a tale of love and treachery that had left scars etched deep into his soul.
Cindy, the girl from his region, had been his beacon. Her laughter danced like sunlight on water, and her eyes held secrets he longed to unravel. They for married, their union was a promise of forever. But beneath Cindy’s delicate façade lurked a tempest, a lion ready to slide his throat—a storm that would nearly extinguish Christophe’s light.
One fateful evening, Cindy served him a cup of tea, her smile was as sweet as honey. Her kiss was like that of Judas handing Jesus over. it bore betrayal. Poison coursed through his veins, a venomous kiss from the woman he loved. Darkness closed in, and he collapsed, gasping for air.
Luckily for him, it so happened that his younger sister, visited that evening, found him crumpling on the floor. She got so horrified and called for help. The hospital became his sanctuary, where doctors fought to extract the poison that threatened to steal him away. Christophe survived, but his trust lay shattered. He vowed never to have anything to do with any woman again. She was later locked up in jail where she’s still currently living now. That’s why though old enough to have been the father of 3 was still single and still searching . He was 39 yet looked like he was in his late 20s.
From that day onwards, he vowed never to marry from his tribe. The anger that had simmered within Cindy revealed itself in her sister a mirror image of betrayal. Christophe watched as her rage flared, consuming everything in its path. His sister, too, bore the same burden, her heart a battlefield of unresolved conflicts. Same thing happened to many men of his tripe.
And then came the night that would forever alter my life. Chris and I, oblivious to the
People see things, people talk people get jealous and that’s how Christophe’s visit to my stand had been noticed by someone I still can’t tell till date. That’s how I was reported to have been a black leg. Because I was accommodating the strangers that were prevented from setting feet into our land.
The Area boys descended upon me like vultures. Their faces masked, their intentions clear. They dragged me away, their fists raining blows upon my body. Pain blurred my vision, and I tasted blood.
After beating mercilessly, they dumped me by the roadside, bruised and broken. Strangers found me, their kindness a lifeline. They carried me to the hospital, where the stark white walls absorbed my pain. My little secret was out I have never imagined that I would be involved in this to the extent my father will weakness it.
His eyes, once warm, now blazed with fury. Trauma had carved deep grooves in his heart. His brother, mistaken for an Area boys’ leader, had been shoot in cold blood by the soldier in uniform. His sister’s son, too, had met a similar fate. The flames that consumed our home still haunted his nightmares the soldiers, indifferent to life, setting fire to everything.
And now, his daughter lay before him, battered and scarred. His hatred for soldiers surged anew. He swore an oath to kill himself if I ever crossed paths with one. Kemi’s death at school had been the final blow, a wound that refused to heal.
In the quiet of my hospital room, I wondered if love could survive such darkness. Christophe’s eyes haunted me the vulnerability, the unspoken promises. We were two souls caught in a war not of our making, our hearts battered by forces beyond our control.
TO BE CONTINUED
