How Do You Heal from a Love That Never Happened?

I’m 27 years old,born and raised in Lagos, and in August 2024, my mum told me one aunty from our church in Surulere had reached out about a potential husband material. You know how these things go: “Sister Amaka, we saw your daughter’s picture on her WhatsApp DP she looks responsible, God-fearing, and homely.” Next thing you know, my mum is sending me screenshots of this guy’s profile like it’s a CV.

His name was Obinna, 30 years old, a software developer in Abuja. He looked like the kind of guy who smelled like shea butter and sense. His mum had sent over his biodata, NYSC picture, and one of him posing next to a Benz (men and their obsession with car pictures, but okay).

To be honest, I had been seriously considering marriage around that time — not under pressure, but you know, clock’s ticking, all my friends are doing “our forever has started” on Instagram, and my mum was beginning to randomly sigh after phone calls with her friends.

Anyway, when I saw Obinna’s profile, something clicked. We went to the same university(UNILAG). He even graduated with the same degree, Computer Science. We both liked Afrobeats, books, and weirdly, Amala. I had a mad feeling this could actually be it.

But the moment his mum said they wanted to come and “see me properly” that Sunday, something in me panicked. Cold feet. I started overthinking, am I really ready? What if it’s too fast? What if he’s too good to be true? So, I ghosted. Politely. Told my mum I wasn’t sure again. And that was that.

But curiosity is a devil. I searched for him on Instagram. Found him. Hit follow. He followed back almost instantly and then slid into my DMs. Just like that. His first message?

“Small world. Didn’t know you were the Adaeze they were talking about.”

I laughed. I blushed. I replied.

We started chatting. Nothing deep, but it felt easy, familiar, even. I apologized for airing his mum. He said it was fine, that he also found me “refreshing and honest.” For a moment, I felt like the stars were realigning.

But suddenly… silence. No more DMs. No memes. No “good morning sunshine.” Man vanished like PHCN light during thunderstorm.

I told my mum everything. She tried reaching his mum again. Called. Texted. Prayed. Nothing. Not even a “delivered.” Eventually, I confronted him online.

He said and I quote,“My mum thought your initial hesitation meant you weren’t serious, so she started looking elsewhere. I didn’t want to disappoint her.”

And just like that, the air left the room.

I didn’t hear from him for three months. Life moved on, birthdays, office wahala, endless weddings, and bridal shower aso-ebi groups I didn’t want to join. But I never stopped thinking about him.

In December, I messaged him again ,nothing romantic just “how’s life?” He replied that he was taking a break from this whole wife-searching madness. That after me, he tried again with another girl. Fell mumuishly in love. But it didn’t work out. She left him broken.

Now, here I am. July 2025. Ten months later. And I’m still here thinking, “What if?”

What if I had said yes the first time?

What if I had been a little braver?

What if he was the one that got away… before he even truly arrived?

I’ve tried to move on, I swear. But no one feels like Obinna. No one makes me smile at 2 a.m. because of a random joke about Baba Ijebu odds. No one fits as effortlessly into the space I imagined for my future.

He hasn’t reached out again. Not once. I’ve always been the one starting the conversations, carrying the emotional load, hoping something will reignite.

So, now I’m asking: Should I let go of a love that never really began? Or is there still hope in reaching out one last time not for closure, but for a second chance? Because deep down, I still wonder… what if the first “no” was just fear, not fate?