[STORY] When being single forces you to accept everything, be wary of what you get in response

The Spiritual Husband

Chapter One: This Is Not My Son

There are loneliness that grow heavier with time. Every wedding you attend, every birth you celebrate, every question you dodge. And sometimes that loneliness becomes so unbearable that you become willing to do anything to make it stop — even accept what you don’t understand, even open doors that should never be opened. Because some solutions create problems far more terrible than the ones they claim to solve.

The delivery room was filled with tension. Doctors moved around a woman lying in the middle of labor. She screamed, sweated, pushed.

“One more effort, madam,” the midwife encouraged.

The woman pushed one final time. The cry of a newborn filled the room. “It’s a boy.” But instead of the usual relief, a strange silence settled over the room. The midwife cleaned the baby and wrapped him. Then she approached the mother to present him to her.

“Your son, madam.” The exhausted woman opened her eyes and reached out her arms. But when she saw the baby, something in her expression changed. A flicker of fear crossed her face. The baby had stopped crying. He was staring at her fixedly, with eyes that seemed far too aware for a newborn.

“Take him,” the midwife insisted. The woman took the child in her arms, but instead of pulling him close, she held him at a distance, as though afraid of what she was holding. The baby continued to stare at her without blinking.

A nurse approached. “Madam, is everything all right?” The woman didn’t answer. She was looking at that baby the way one looks at a stranger. An intruder.

“Madam,” she finally murmured, in a voice almost inaudible. “This is not my son.” The nurse frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This is not my son. It’s him.”

“Him who?”

The woman closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. “My husband.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. No one understood. The midwife took the baby from the mother’s arms. “Madam, you’re exhausted. You need rest.” But the woman shook her head, eyes still closed.

“You don’t understand. I have never been with a man. Never. And yet, I have just given birth.”

The nurse and midwife exchanged a worried glance. “Madam, that’s impossible.” The woman opened her eyes again. Her gaze was empty, resigned.

“No, it’s not impossible. When you open certain doors, nothing is impossible.”

Chapter Two: A Respectable Life

To understand what had led to this moment, one had to go back much further — to the time when this woman, Adama, still lived in hope of finding love, before despair took hold of her, before she made the worst decision of her life.

Adama had grown up like all the girls in her neighborhood. She had gone to school, worked hard, built a respectable career as an accountant at a mid-sized company. She had also had relationships — not many, but a few. Men who made promises and then vanished. Men who lied. Men who only sought to take advantage.

Over the years, Adama had learned to protect herself, to stop believing too quickly, to stop giving her heart away easily. But she still wanted to marry. She wanted children, a family, a home. Only the years kept passing, and no one came. Her friends married one after another. Adama attended the ceremonies, smiled, offered congratulations, then went home alone. Her family began to ask questions.

“Adama, when are we going to dance at your wedding?” her aunt would ask at family gatherings.

“Soon, Auntie, soon.”

“You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“I know.”

The remarks, bearable at first, grew heavier and heavier, like stones piled on her shoulders. One day, at a baptism, a cousin came to sit beside her.

“Adama, you came alone again?”

“Yes.”

The cousin placed a hand on hers. “You know, if you keep going like this, you’ll end up alone. Men don’t wait forever.”

Adama gently withdrew her hand. “I’m not looking for just anyone. I want someone good.”

“Someone good?” The cousin laughed lightly. “My dear, nobody’s perfect. You have to learn to accept.”

Adama didn’t answer. But walking home that evening, she cried. She had done everything right. She had studied, worked, saved. She was respectable, kind, pretty. So why? Why was she always alone?

Chapter Three: The Empty Apartment

The months continued to pass. Adama tried dating apps, a few dates, nothing serious. She tried going out more, attending social events, parties. But each time, it was the same thing. The interesting men were already taken. The others didn’t interest her.

One evening, sitting in her living room, Adama looked around her. Her apartment was clean, well-organized, comfortable — but empty. Terribly empty. She thought about what her life would be like in a few years. Alone, without a husband, without children, just her and her work.

That thought clenched her throat. No, she didn’t want that life. She was ready to do anything to change it. And it was that thought, that particular despair, that would lead her straight into a trap she would never truly escape.

Chapter Four: Mama Rose

Some time later, Adama attended a colleague’s wedding — a young woman who had, by all appearances, everything working against her staying married: not particularly beautiful, not wealthy, difficult temperament. And yet there she was, getting married, and her husband seemed genuinely in love.

During the reception, Adama sat alone at a table. She watched the newlyweds dance, smile, kiss. An old woman came to sit beside her.

“You came alone?”

Adama nodded.

“Me too,” the old woman said, smiling. “But for me, it’s normal — I’m a widow. You’re young.”

Adama didn’t answer.

“Are you looking to get married?” the old woman asked.

“Like everyone.”

“But you can’t find anyone.” Adama looked at her. “How do you know?”

The old woman smiled. “I see it on your face. That sadness — I recognize it.” A silence settled.

“You know,” the old woman continued, “sometimes the problem isn’t us. It’s something else. Something invisible.”

Adama frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There are blockages. Things that prevent opportunities from arriving.”

“You believe in that?”

The old woman shrugged. “I only believe what I see. And I see women like you stay alone for years, while others, far less deserving, find someone easily.”

Adama stayed silent. “If you want,” the old woman continued, “I know someone who can help you. A marabout.”

“A—”

“Call it whatever you like. But he has helped many women. Women who, like you, were blocked.”

Adama hesitated. “I’m not sure I believe in these things.”

“You don’t have to believe. Just try. What do you have to lose?”

Adama thought about it. The old woman was right. What did she have to lose? “All right.”

The old woman scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. “Go see him. Tell him Mama Rose sent you.”

Adama took the paper and slipped it into her purse. That night, at home, she looked at the paper for a long time. Part of her said it was ridiculous, that she shouldn’t go. But the other part — the part exhausted from being alone, the part watching the years slip by without hope — that part was stronger. She would go, just to see.

Chapter Five: The House at the Edge of Town

A few days later, Adama went to the address on the paper. A discreet house at the edge of the city. Nothing distinguished it from the others, except a small sign: Spiritual Consultation.

She knocked. A man opened the door. He was in his fifties, dressed in a white boubou, calm-faced.

“Yes?”

“Mama Rose sent me.”

The man smiled slightly. “Come in.”

Adama entered. Inside, the air smelled of incense. Candles burned in every corner. On the walls, images of Catholic saints stood alongside symbols she didn’t recognize.

“Sit,” he said. She sat on a small stool. The man settled across from her and studied her intensely.

“You’re looking for a husband.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

Adama nodded. “How long?”

“A long time.”

“Too long?” The man closed his eyes. His lips moved silently. Then he opened his eyes again.

“You’re blocked.”

“Blocked how?”

“Someone in your family. A woman. She put a curse on you when you were little.”

Adama felt a chill. “Who?”

“I don’t know exactly. But it’s a jealous woman. Maybe an aunt, maybe a cousin.”

Adama thought of all the women in her family. Who could have done that?

“What can I do?”

“I can break the block, but it takes time and patience.”

“How much time?”

“Several months.”

Adama sighed. “And after?”

“After, men will come to you naturally.”

It seemed too good to be true. But Adama wanted to believe. “All right. Do it.”

The man nodded. “I’ll begin the work. But there’s something else.”

“What?”

“If you’re really in a hurry, there’s a faster solution.”

Adama leaned forward. “Which is?”

Chapter Six: A Spiritual Husband

The man hesitated, as if considering how to phrase what he was about to say.

“We can give you a husband.”

Adama frowned. “Give me a husband?”

“A spiritual husband. Someone who will always be with you, who will protect you, who will bring you blessings.”

“I don’t understand.”

The man stood and took a small statuette from a shelf — a wooden figurine depicting a man. “In the spiritual world, there are beings. Spirits. Some can take the form of a husband. They attach themselves to a woman and take care of her. In exchange, the woman belongs to them.”

Adama felt a wave of unease. “Belongs to them how?”

“She becomes their wife, spiritually. And when she’s ready, she can also marry physically. But only if the spiritual husband agrees.”

“And if he doesn’t agree?”

The man set down the statuette. “Then no man will be able to stay with her.”

Adama shook her head. “No, that seems too risky.”

“I understand. But think carefully. Would you rather wait years more, or would you rather have a guarantee?”

“What guarantee?”

“With a spiritual husband, you will never be alone again. You will always have someone. And if an earthly man is suitable, the spiritual husband will let him pass.”

Adama hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Go home. Think about it. If you want, come back and see me in a few days.”

Chapter Seven: The Circle of Red Candles

Adama went home troubled. All week, she thought of nothing else. A spiritual husband. At first, the idea seemed insane. But the more she thought about it, the more she told herself that maybe, maybe it wasn’t so crazy — if it could really help her, if it could really put an end to her loneliness.

A week later, she went back to see the man.

“I accept.”

The man led her into a room at the back of the house. A dark room, lit only by red candles. In the center, a circle was traced on the ground.

“Take off your shoes and step into the circle.” Adama obeyed, her heart pounding. The man began reciting incantations in a language she didn’t understand. He poured water into a calabash, then added herbs, powders, bits of wood.

Adama took the calabash and drank. The taste was bitter, almost unbearable. The man continued reciting. He took a necklace made of black beads and placed it around Adama’s neck.

“Never remove it. It’s the bond.”

Adama touched the necklace. It was cold.

“Now, lie down.” Adama lay on the floor at the center of the circle. The man placed a red blanket over her.

“Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you to.”

Adama closed her eyes. She heard the man reciting louder and louder. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. She felt an intense cold wash over her. Then, suddenly, she felt something — a presence, as though someone had entered the room and lain down beside her. She wanted to open her eyes, but the man’s voice rang out.

“Don’t open your eyes.”

Adama stayed still. The presence drew closer. She felt something like breath against her face. Then something touched her hand. A cold hand, icy. She held back a scream.

Finally, the man said, “It’s finished. You can open your eyes.” Adama opened her eyes and sat up quickly. She was alone in the room with the man.

“What happened?”

“You met your husband.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You’ll never see him. But he’s there.”

Adama touched the necklace at her throat. “What must I do now?”

“Nothing. Live your life. But remember, you’re married now. Not physically, but spiritually.”

Adama went home, dazed. She didn’t really understand what had just happened, but she hoped it would work.

Chapter Eight: The Presence in the Apartment

The following days were strange. Adama sometimes sensed a presence in her apartment, as though someone were watching her. She would turn around, but no one was there. At night, she slept poorly. She often dreamed of a faceless man who came to sit at the edge of her bed. But she told herself it was normal, that it was temporary.

Then something happened. A colleague at work began showing interest in her. A charming man, seemingly reliable in every way. He invited her to lunch, then to dinner. Adama was happy. Finally, someone.

They saw each other for a few weeks. Everything was going well — until that night.

Chapter Nine: Daniel

Adama and the man, Daniel, were at a restaurant. The evening was going wonderfully. He laughed, talked, opened up to her. Daniel paid the bill, and they left together.

“Can I drive you home?” he offered.

“With pleasure.”

They got into Daniel’s car. On the way, they kept talking. Adama felt light. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the one.

Suddenly, Daniel went silent. His face tensed.

“Are you okay?” Adama asked.

He didn’t answer. He raised a hand to his chest.

“Daniel!”

The car swerved. Daniel let go of the wheel. The car hit a curb and stopped abruptly.

“Daniel!” Adama leaned toward him. He was unconscious, his head tipped forward. She got out of the car running and screamed for help. Passersby came running. Someone called an ambulance.

At the hospital, the doctors did everything they could, but Daniel never woke up. He died during the night. A heart attack, the doctors said. Sudden and massive.

Adama was in shock. How was this possible? Daniel was young, healthy. In the days that followed, she cried a great deal. She felt guilty, even though she didn’t know why.

Chapter Ten: The Second Man

Some time passed. Adama tried to rebuild herself. Then another man entered her life. A friend of friends, kind, attentive. They began seeing each other. Adama told herself that maybe this time it would be different.

But shortly after their first outing, the man had a motorcycle accident. Severe. He survived, but was left paralyzed. His family called Adama to tell her he could no longer see her, that he needed to focus on his rehabilitation.

Adama hung up the phone in shock. Two men. Two accidents. This was not a coincidence.

Chapter Eleven: The Warning

She went back to see the man who had given her the spiritual husband.

“What’s happening?” she asked, panicked. “The men who come near me get sick or die?”

The man looked at her calmly. “I warned you. Your spiritual husband must accept them. But he accepts no one — meaning none of them are suitable for him.”

“So what? I’ll stay alone forever?”

The man shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Adama felt tears rising. “Remove this from me. I don’t want this husband anymore.”

“It’s too late.”

“What do you mean, too late?”

“The bond is sealed. You belong to him now.”

Adama ran out. She went home and tore the necklace from her neck. But the moment she removed it, a violent pain tore through her, as though something were being ripped out of her from the inside. She put the necklace back on. The pain stopped. She was trapped.

Chapter Twelve: Not Really Alone

Time passed. Adama stopped looking for love. She had understood. No one would ever be able to stay with her. She lived alone, but not really alone. She always felt that presence, everywhere — in her apartment, in her car, at work.

Then one day, something strange happened. Adama woke one morning feeling nauseous. She vomited, then again the next day, and the day after that. At first, she thought it was food poisoning, but the nausea continued. She decided to see a doctor. The doctor ran tests. Then he came back with a result Adama could never have imagined.

“Madam, you’re pregnant.”

Adama burst out laughing. “That’s impossible.”

“And yet, the test is positive.”

“But I’ve never—” She stopped. “I’ve never been with a man.”

The doctor frowned. “Madam, I don’t know what you mean, but biologically, it’s impossible to be pregnant without intercourse.”

Adama shook her head. “Run the test again.”

The doctor ran it again. Then another. All positive.

Adama went home, trembling. It wasn’t possible. Not possible. But deep down, she knew. She knew exactly what had happened. The spiritual husband — he had taken what he wanted.

Chapter Thirteen: Pastor Emmanuel

That night, Adama cried until she was exhausted. Then she made a decision. She could not live like this. She had to break this bond, no matter the cost.

She searched online. She asked around discreetly. Finally, someone told her about a pastor. Pastor Emmanuel, a man known for delivering people from this kind of situation.

Adama went to see him. She told him everything — the desperation, the consultation, the spiritual husband, the dead men, the pregnancy.

Pastor Emmanuel listened gravely. “My daughter, you have opened a door that should never have been opened. I know that what you carry is not an ordinary child. It’s a manifestation of that bond.”

Adama placed a hand on her stomach. “What must I do?”

“We must break the pact. But it won’t be easy. This spirit will not let you go without a fight.”

“I’m ready.”

Chapter Fourteen: The Deliverance

Pastor Emmanuel organized a deliverance session. Adama came to the church one evening. Several intercessors were present. They began to pray, softly at first, then louder and louder. Adama felt a resistance within her, as though something refused to leave.

“In the name of Jesus, may every illegitimate bond be broken!” the pastor cried. Adama screamed. An unbearable pain tore through her. The intercessors continued praying for hours.

Finally, Adama collapsed, exhausted but freed. The necklace around her neck broke on its own and fell to the floor.

In the days that followed, Adama felt different. Lighter. The presence had disappeared. But the pregnancy — it continued. She went back to see the pastor.

“What do I do about the baby?”

The pastor thought for a long moment. “The bond is broken, but the child is already there. It’s up to you to decide.”

Adama didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to keep this child. Another part was afraid of it. Finally, she decided to keep it. The months passed. The pregnancy proceeded normally.

Chapter Fifteen: The Delivery Room

Then came the day of the delivery. It was that day, in that delivery room, that Adama understood: even though the spiritual bond had been broken, the consequences remained.

The baby was named Naki, a boy. And when Adama looked into his eyes, she saw something that chilled her. His eyes resembled no one — not her, not any man she had known. His eyes were those of someone else. Someone she had never seen, but had sensed for a long time.

The doctor placed the child in her arms. “Congratulations, madam.” Adama took the child, but in her heart, she knew — this child would never truly be hers. He would always belong, in some way, to the one who had conceived him.

Chapter Sixteen: What the Door Left Behind

There are doors one should never open, even when desperate, even when you believe you have nothing left to lose. Because certain solutions solve nothing. They only create new problems, more serious, more lasting.

Loneliness is difficult. But it is never as terrible as the bonds we create to escape it. And above all, remember: no one can give you what you’re truly searching for. Not love, not happiness, not peace. Everything built on a lie eventually collapses.

— The End —