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Exactly two weeks after Tito's visit, I felt a tingling sensation that sent shivers down my spine, leaving me with a lingering sense of unease. I usually pride myself on how infection-free I have managed to be over the years. While some girls complain of having “toilet infections” several times a year, I have only ever had one, and that was more than 8 years ago. This tingling bears a remarkable similarity with that one.  At first, I thought to ignore it, believing it would go. By the third day, I knew I couldn’t wish it away.

Tito and I have been dating for about 6 months, long distance, and I thought I could trust him. Maybe I judged him too quickly. Why do I feel a suspicious itch? I have always been cautious, not letting anyone touch me because of an experience I had in the past. I casually dated a few people before I decided to settle with Tito. And sometimes after those dates, we would make out and sometimes it could get to second base. The pleasure I sometimes got wasn’t worth the discomfort that sometimes followed. For example, I never went out with Dele after noticing the tingling and thick white discharge, which he may or may not have caused. I never let any guy finger me after that experience. I told them it was because I didn’t enjoy it, but that’s not true. It was because of Dele.

I met Tito the day I broke up with my ex. The break was supposed to be a month-long—a time to think about what we both wanted out of this relationship—after which we were supposed to get back together, and wax stronger. From the first day we met, he made his intentions clear. There was no beating about the bush; he wanted me and pursued me with a determination and relentlessness that made me feel powerful. He looked into my eyes and told me he wanted me and always would. I was flustered, flattered. He was different, special age he made me feel special too.

The first few months were blissful. I loved him with an intensity that surprised everyone who knew me. Gone was the version of me that was insecure and eager to please; I was a new woman who felt confident in my skin and womanhood. I wasn’t bothered by the distance. He had reassured me that he had eyes for no one but me and that he spent all his free time working hard to make more money to provide for every whim and desire I could have. I was swayed by his words of affirmation. For the first time, a man had found my mumu button, or I had handed it over to him in a box with a bow on top, to toggle as he wished. And toggle he did.

The first time I thought he may not be as faithful as he made himself to be was a month into our relationship. I had been looking for something in his bag when I found a condom in his work bag, beside the pack, the only one left in a pack of six. I confronted him about it and he claimed it wasn’t his. He said that it was from a prank his colleague had played on him earlier in the week. Then he turned around and questioned my lack of trust in him. Like a good girlfriend, I let it slide. Telling myself that the story was too implausible to be a lie. Before that, I had no cause to be suspicious and doubt his fidelity. Maybe he hides it well. I didn’t think about it. I figured that if he was indeed cheating, he couldn't hide it forever, and one day I would find out without trying. Now I am sitting here feeling stupid because if it's what I fear making me feel tingly, then this is the worst possible way to find out.

My mind is running through all the different kinds of STIs there are and comparing them with my symptoms. I had chalked up my frequent urination to the cold weather, but what if it’s not that? Not to mention the abdominal cramps I had last week. Last night, I spent about 5 minutes with a compact mirror and a flashlight pointed between my legs, examining every inch of skin there. I don’t know what I expected to see—maybe a rash or swelling, anything to explain this suspicious tingling. I didn’t see anything, out of the ordinary. It felt a little plumper and looked a tad pinker, but that could be because of the five minutes I spent rubbing at it. Rubbing it seems to relieve the tingling, to be honest it is immensely pleasurable. But I can't spend all my time doing that. I need to know for sure.

I have seen a doctor now. He's sent me for tests and prescribed some drugs to be used pending when the results are out. I preferred injections, not tablets, but it wasn’t up to me. Now I'm lying on my back, feet in the air and my legs spread apart so this middle-aged man with Coke bottle glasses can collect his samples for the test. I am not taking chances, I asked him to run all the tests on me. I haven’t told Tito about this. The results of this barrage of tests will determine my next actions. I have not been with anyone but him since I met him, excluding that one slip-up, but it doesn’t count since it was before we became official.

It's been three days since I saw the doctor, and I'm returning to get my test results. I'd opted to wait for my findings all at once. I dislike the prevailing sense of sorrow that appears to pervade the air around the hospital. I'm waiting to see the doctor outside his office. My results were typed and sealed in an envelope by the lab guys. The only thing preventing me from opening it myself is that I won’t be able to conceal what I have done. This is a lesson about patience. I'll divert myself by considering all the possible outcomes. Perhaps this is only a new PMS symptom, but a girl can dream. Or it could be an STI and I could let out my crazy side. Before I’m called in to see the doctor, I had already pictured all the possible outcomes.

I sit and hand him the envelope. He attempts to make small talk but quickly realizes I'm not interested. "How bad is it?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

I hope it's nothing serious and permanent like herpes or HIV. Those aren’t on my bingo cards for the year, please. He smiles, and the tension dissipates. "You're only pregnant."

Pregnant ke?

I sit there, frozen, as the doctor's words hang in the air like a challenge. Pregnant? How could this be? We had been careful. He almost always pulled out and when he didn’t, I took the morning-after pill.

The doctor's voice breaks through my thoughts, "We'll need to schedule an appointment for your first prenatal visit." I nod, still in shock. Then I added, “But we used postinor”

“no contraceptive is 100% guaranteed” he replied. He went on about the prenatal visits, but I’m lost in thought.

Everything feels unreal like I am trapped in a never-ending dream. Uncertainty and doubt cling to me, and thoughts of Tito fill my mind – his smile, his laugh, his intense gaze. The future and the little life growing inside me weigh heavily on my mind. Would he want this child? Do I want this child?

As I make my way home, I know I have to tell Tito. I need to share this news with him and see how he'll respond. Would he be joyful and eager, or distant and indifferent?

Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for the conversation ahead. I understand that our relationship would never be the same and that this news would alter everything.