My name is Nasiru Adamu, I am 36 years old. I am a businessman based in Abuja. I am from Kano State. I was married to Ruqayya Nasiru for 6 years. We have two children together. I would like to share my Divorce Diaries with you.
I married my wife because she was a good woman.
Not because I loved her.
Not because I desired her.
Just because… she was good.
You know the type.
Respectful. Quiet. Religious. Homely.
The kind of woman every mother prays her son will marry.
I met Ruqayya through my elder sister.
She told me:
“Nasiru, this girl is الذهب (gold). Don’t joke with her.”
When I saw her, I agreed.
She was not the most beautiful woman, but she had dignity.
Calmness.
No nonsense.
I said to myself, this one will not stress me.
That was what I wanted.
Peace.
We didn’t date for long.
After a few visits, I told my people to go and see her family.
Everything was smooth.
No drama.
No stress.
Even the marriage itself was easy.
Looking back now… maybe it was too easy.
From the first day of marriage, Ruqayya gave me everything.
Respect.
Care.
Submission.
Even before I asked for anything, she had already done it.
At first, I enjoyed it.
Who wouldn’t?
A woman that doesn’t argue?
A woman that doesn’t question you?
A woman that always says:
“Yanda kake so.”
But after some time… it started to annoy me.
Yes. Annoy me.
I know it sounds stupid, but that is the truth.
I would come home, she has cooked.
I would eat, she would watch me like a student waiting for result.
“Is it okay?”
Everything was always “okay.”
Too okay.
Even in conversations, nothing.
I would try to gist her.
She would just smile.
Or agree.
Or say something safe.
No opinion.
No challenge.
Nothing.
One day I even got angry.
I told her:
“Ruqayya, do you have your own mind at all?”
She looked confused.
“I do…”
“Then use it!”
She went quiet.
As usual.
That was when I started spending more time outside.
At first it was just friends.
Then business.
Then… women.
I told myself something very stupid:
“A man like me cannot be bored in his own house.”
So I went out to find excitement.
That was how I met Jamila.
Wallahi, that girl was trouble.
But at that time, she felt like solution.
Jamila was everything Ruqayya was not.
Loud.
Funny.
Stubborn.
Full of life.
If you say A, she will say B.
If you say sit, she will ask why.
At first, it shocked me.
Then… I liked it.
I felt challenged.
Alive.
Like I was talking to a human being, not a mirror.
We started seeing each other.
Just small small.
Then serious.
Then… I was gone.
I stopped hiding it.
I didn’t care.
In fact, I wanted my wife to notice.
To react.
To fight.
But she didn’t.
One night, she asked me:
“Nasiru, is there someone else?”
I looked at her.
Calm. Respectful. No anger.
I was even more irritated.
“What kind of question is that?”
She nodded slowly.
“Just asking.”
That was all.
That kind of response can drive a man mad.
I started comparing them openly.
I would say things like:
“Why can’t you be like other women?”
Or
“You are too dull.”
She never insulted me.
Never raised her voice.
Never disrespected me.
Instead… she changed.
Quietly.
She started dressing better.
Going out more.
Reading.
Even laughing more… but not with me.
I didn’t notice at first.
Or maybe I didn’t care.
Because at that time, Jamila had taken over my head.
I was spending money like water.
Hotels.
Trips.
Gifts.
Anything to keep her happy.
One day, I even told Jamila:
“I want to marry you.”
She laughed.
“Are you serious?”
“I swear.”
She looked at me and said something I will never forget:
“If you can leave your wife for me, then I will believe you.”
That statement entered my head like poison.
I went home that night and looked at Ruqayya differently.
For the first time… I saw her as obstacle.
Imagine.
The woman that gave me peace… became my problem.
I started planning it.
How to push her out.
How to make it easy.
But before I could do anything… she did something first.
One afternoon, I came back home early.
Very unusual.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Ruqayya was not there.
The children were not there.
At first, I thought maybe she went out.
Then I saw the empty wardrobe.
My heart dropped.
She had packed.
Everything.
There was a letter on the bed.
I opened it.
My hands were shaking.
“Nasiru,
I have been a good wife to you.
Not because I am weak.
But because I believed in marriage.
I believed in you.
But now I understand that what you want is not a good woman.
You want a struggle.
You want drama.
You want something I am not.
So I am freeing you.
Take it.
I choose peace.
—Ruqayya”
I sat down.
For the first time in years… I was speechless.
I called her.
Switched off.
I called her brother.
He said:
“She is fine. Don’t look for her.”
That was when it hit me.
I didn’t lose her because she was bad.
I lost her because she was too good…
…and I didn’t know her value.
Jamila?
(Laughs)
That one didn’t even last.
Immediately I was free, she changed.
No more respect.
No more sweetness.
Only demands.
Pressure.
Problems.
One day she told me:
“You are not even special. You just had money.”
That day… my eyes opened.
Today, I am alone.
My children live with their mother.
And the house that used to be peaceful… is now empty and noisy at the same time.
I heard Ruqayya remarried.
To a man that values her.
A man that listens to her.
Sometimes I ask myself:
Why was I so stupid?
But the answer is simple.
I did not understand the difference between peace…
…and boredom.
Thank you for sharing my Divorce Diaries.
I hope you will learn from my mistake.
Thank you.
