It was one of those days you never forget, not because something dramatic happened, but because something quietly life-changing did. My parents had finally made the decision to enroll me in a school in our hometown, Apirede, nestled in the calm hills of Akuapem North. Even though I had spent my entire life in Nkawkaw with my family, they decided to send me back to Apirede. Nkawkaw had become far too chaotic, a constant hum of noise and distraction that slowly began to take its toll on my academic performance. My parents, concerned and hopeful, thought I needed a peaceful environment to excel academically.
They believed Apirede, with its quiet roads, fresh air, and familiar roots, would offer me a better chance to thrive, not knowing they weren't just giving me an education, they were guiding me toward the beginning of something beautiful.
That's when I met her, "Apau Faustina". It was the Second term of the academic year, Thursday, January 11th, 2011. She was at the stream, Dideku, with her friend, fetching water. I still remember the sunlight bouncing off the surface of the water, the sound of the breeze weaving through the trees; it felt like the world had paused. Her friend helped her lift her bucket, and then asked me, half-jokingly, half-serious, to help her friend carry her own gallon of water.
I said yes, maybe too quickly. Faustina didn't say a word to me. But she giggled softly, playfully, and nudged her friend, telling her to stop teasing me. And that laugh, that smile... it hit me in a way I didn't expect. It wasn't just how beautiful she looked, but the way she felt, warmth, kindness, and real. In that small moment, in a quiet corner of a village stream, with a borrowed task and a stranger's smile, something shifted inside me. And right then, out of a spiritual imaturity, I told myself, I'm going to marry this girl.
To my absolute surprise, the very next day, there she was in my class. I had to blink a few times to be sure it wasn't just my imagination playing tricks on me. Faustina... in my classroom? My heart nearly skipped a beat. I couldn't believe my eyes. It felt like fate had just leaned in and whispered, This is your path. And as if that wasn't enough, that same Friday evening, I saw her again, this time, at the Kingdom Hall. That moment sealed it for me. She wasn't just a fleeting feeling or a schoolyard crush. Something about the calmness in her presence, the sincerity in her expressions, and the quiet strength she carried... I just knew. From that point on, I had no doubt in my heart she was mine.
That weekend, I couldn't stop thinking about her. So I poured my heart out the only way I knew how, through a letter. I told her how beautiful she was, not just in appearance, but in spirit. I wrote from a place of admiration, with all the courage a young boy could muster, and slid it gently into her palm the following Monday, trying to act normal like my world hadn't just shifted on its axis.
She wrote back.
But her reply wasn't what I expected. Instead of returning my affection, she gently tried to steer me in a different direction, reminding me, with heartfelt sincerity, about spiritual values. She referenced 1 Corinthians 6:9,10 as though I didn't already know the verse. It was her way of saying, I see you, but this isnā't the time. Still, I wasn't discouraged. We slowly grew close, not through secret meetings or bold declarations but through quiet gestures.
We started attending field service meetings together on weekends, walking door to door, side by side. Even though we were young, I made my intentions known. I never played games with her. I didn't want to. She didn't fully grasp the depth of what I felt back then, but I understood. We had time. She needed space to grow, to understand, to find her own way. What mattered was, even though I hadn't officially proposed yet, my heart had already spoken, loud and clear.
Time moved on, and before we knew, the annual school Cultural Activities season had arrived, a time everyone looked forward to. It was a big event: cultural dance, drama, exhibitions, each of us bringing a part of our heritage to life. Faustina joined the cultural dance group, while I was part of the drama, and also showcased a few things at the exhibition. But the real highlight for me wasn't the event itself; it was the rehearsals. I remember that first day I saw her practicing... ooooh my God! I was completely starstruck. She wore the traditional costume for the dance, and it revealed just enough to leave me breathless.
Her skin glowed like it had been kissed by sunlight, smooth, flawless, the color of golden honey. Not a single mark. It looked like silk, soft to the eye, softer in imagination. Every movement she made was grace in motion. Her body was like a carefully crafted sculpture, delicate yet strong, like it had been crafted by hand with the most careful precision; I was in awe.
That moment made me realize something deeper: I wasn't just attracted to her beauty; it was the way she carried herself, the elegance in how she moved, the innocence in her eyes, and the quiet confidence that lingered in every step she took. She had that rare kind of presence one just couldn't look away from.
But just when everything felt like it was falling into place, she dropped a bombshell. After the event, she told me she would be relocating to Kumasi to complete her Junior High School. I was stunned. My heart sank. There was nothing I could do. She left during the vacation and never returned, not even once, until we had all completed JHS. I remember holding onto every vacation with a hopeful heart, praying she would show up. Every school break felt like a new chance.
But she never came back. And I missed her terribly. Then, after what felt like forever, she finally returned. That was when I mustered every ounce of courage and finally proposed to her properly over the phone. But she never gave me an answer. Not a yes. Not a no. Just silence. For months, I heard nothing. I started to think maybe that was her answer in itself. But then, out of the blue, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. The moment I picked up and heard the voice on the other end, I knew it was her, Faustina.
She explained she had moved to Liberia to continue her Senior High School Education. My heart twisted again. I couldn't even be angry; I was just... helpless. Once again, she was gone. Once again, there was nothing I could do.
It was one scorching afternoon when my phone rang. Faustina was calling from Liberia. Her voice trembled with emotion as she begged me to make a promise: not to date anyone else, to wait for her, to believe in us. She said she loved me and would return to my arms. And I believed her. I held onto her words like a lifeline. For four solid years, I kept that promise. I turned down every other girl who came my way. I waited, faithfully, because I knew what I felt for her was real. But when she finally returned to Ghana, she didn't return to me. Instead, she broke my heart. And her reason was, she wasn't in her right frame of mind to be in a relationship. She ended everything we had without even seeing me.
The pain was unbearable, I cried, I withdrew. I almost lost myself, and though she would call once in a while to check up on me, I couldn't bring myself to speak to her. I didn't block her, but I stopped answering. I was hurting not just because she left, but because I had done nothing to deserve it. I stayed alone for months. But life has its own way of bringing things in full circle. Later that same year, October 2017, I had moved to Accra, and found myself at a three-day convention at the Spintex, Baatsona Assembly Grounds. The theme? "Never Give Up",I had already given up on her... or so I thought. We locked eyes from across the crowd.
I saw her, but pretended I didn't. After the Friday session ended, she walked up to me to say hello. I introduced her to my brother, Enoch, but I wasn't my usual self. I was polite, but my face couldn't hide the storm inside. She sensed it. She knew I was still angry and maybe, just maybe, she realized what she had lost.
That very evening, she started calling again, trying to reconnect. My phone was off, but not because of her; I had personal reasons. Still, on Saturday, she searched for me across the convention grounds. When she finally found me, she assumed my silence meant I was still holding a grudge. And though I had given up on her, that moment made me realize something I hadn't admitted to myself: I still cared. That evening, I told her the truth. And then, she asked something that took me by surprise: "Can we start all over?"
I paused; my heart wasn't ready for another rollercoaster. But I looked at her, and heard the sincerity in her voice, and I realized that love, true love, isn't about never falling apart; it's about choosing to rebuild. So I forgave her. I wanted to show her I held nothing against her. And somewhere along the way, I realized I was still deeply in love with her. So I gave us a second chance. Fast forward after so many years of knowing each other, and 8 years of growing through love, distance, hurt, healing, and grace, we have decided to seal this divine union.
Thank you for being a part of our story, even though your part is silent.
You are warmly invited to celebrate with us at the: