When a woman loses her soft spot

By Abimbola Ola

 ‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned…” —-William Congreve’s play, The Mourning Bride (1697)

Onome used to believe that when a woman loses that tender soft spot for her man, it is almost impossible to get it back. At first, she laughed it off whenever her friends said it, but now she understood it deeply. Everything he did irritated her. Even the body she once admired with longing eyes no longer appealed to her. The sparkle had dimmed.
It began subtly. Her boyfriend worked shifts abroad, and the time difference made their communication fragile. Still, she adjusted her life around his schedule. At 4 a.m. every morning, she would set her alarm, just to call him before he left for work. She checked in on his mental health, encouraged him, and never forgot to say a prayer over him before he stepped out.
But one evening, things changed. She missed his call—only once. She quickly called him back, hoping to explain, but instead of hearing the warmth she longed for, her phone buzzed with a cold message:
“You know I don’t pick calls when I’m at work.”
She froze. Her eyes blurred as tears welled up. Really? she thought. This man I’ve been sacrificing sleep for, calling every dawn, attending to every need—even in my pregnancy—chooses this moment to scold me?
Her chest tightened as she whispered to herself, “I don’t even disturb you when you’re at work. I sacrifice my rest to make sure you’re emotionally sound, and this is the thanks I get?”
Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was the truth finally breaking through. But she cried bitterly.
When his shift ended at 7 p.m., she hoped he would call to apologize. Instead, the phone rang, and his voice thundered through, laced with anger. He spoke harsh words, words that cut through her heart like shards of glass. He accused, he shouted, he poured abuse over the very woman carrying his child. Onome, drained and broken, simply whispered, “I’m sorry,” and ended the conversation.
The days that followed were cold and empty. Morning after morning, no message came from him. No apology. No concern. Nothing.
By the end of the week, her decision was firm. With trembling hands but resolute spirit, she blocked him. Everywhere. Phone. Social media. Even through family ties. She told her loved ones to cut him off. For the first time in their relationship, she chose peace for herself and the baby growing inside her.
At first, he thought it was one of her emotional outbursts—that she would return. He underestimated her silence. Days turned into weeks, and reality hit him when he discovered she truly blocked him, not just digitally but emotionally. He panicked.
One morning, without warning, he boarded a flight… straight back home.
Onome was shocked when she saw him standing at her door, his face weary with regret. He dropped to his knees, pleading. His voice cracked with desperation: “Please, Onome… forgive me. I was stupid. Don’t leave me like this.”
But Onome’s heart was hardened. She shook her head slowly. “I’m done,” she said, her voice steady. “You broke something in me, and I can’t fix it.”
He stayed, begging, crying, refusing to give up. He sought her parents, and they, touched by his persistence, intervened. They reminded Onome of love, of forgiveness, of the life they had started building together.
Days of conversations, tears, and family mediation followed. Against her will, her heart began to soften—not for him alone, but for the child they shared. Eventually, she gave him one last chance.
When he finally arranged to take her with him abroad, it wasn’t just a relocation—it was a fresh start. Together, they worked to rebuild what had been shattered. Slowly, harmony returned, and though scars remained, they chose to live not just as lovers but as partners bound by lessons learned.
And Onome, though still cautious, carried a quiet truth in her heart: once a woman loses that soft spot, it takes the weight of heaven and earth to restore.