STORYTIME WITH KARZ: Love, madness and the boy she never held again

Story come!

Ah, my dear readers, pour yourself something warm, because this one is not your usual tale of glitter and gossip. This one cuts deep. It’s about love that burned too bright, pain that lingered too long and a girl who lost everything, even herself.

The story is told of a girl from Western, barely a teenager when her heart chose chaos. She met this boy from Central, handsome, broad-shouldered, with that easy smile that could melt reason itself.

He was the village dream, the kind of man every girl wanted and every mother warned her daughter about. And oh, didn’t he know it. He walked with the arrogance of someone aware that eyes followed him everywhere.

The girl’s family saw trouble before it came. They begged her to leave him alone, told her, “This love will be your ruin.” But she was smitten, lost in the fever of young love. She couldn’t imagine breathing in a world where he didn’t exist.

And so, she stayed. Through the whispers, through the fights, through the tears. Even when the boy’s sweetness turned sour, when his love became fists and absences, she clung tighter. She believed that one day, the love she gave would be enough to change him.

Then, as fate would have it, she got pregnant. The news that should have brought joy instead opened the floodgates of pain. The boy’s cruelty grew sharper. He’d disappear for days, come home drunk, reeking of perfume that wasn’t hers. The beatings came more often, but still, she stayed. Love, she thought, was endurance.

When the baby came, things got worse. The sleepless nights, the crying child, the cold heart of a man who was never really hers.

One morning, broken and bruised, she packed her few things and left. She couldn’t take it anymore, not the fists, not the insults, not the loneliness.

But she couldn’t abandon her child either. So she left the baby with her sister, hoping it was just for a while, and fled to her aunt’s home near the Coast to cool her head, to find herself again.

But the world had other plans.

When her mother heard that she’d left the baby at her sister’s place, she rushed there, took the little boy and returned him to his father, the same man who had broken her daughter’s body and spirit.

That was the day the girl lost her son. Not to death, but to life. To the cruel decisions of others. She begged, she cried, she prayed, but no one listened. The child was gone, and with him, the last piece of her sanity.

Days turned into weeks, and one morning, she simply… snapped. The pain broke her mind. She began talking to herself, wandering, lost between memory and madness. Her laughter carried pain, her silence carried ghosts. She never recovered.

Years have passed, and the once bright-eyed girl now sits by the roadside in her village, humming lullabies to a child who isn’t there.

The villagers whisper, “Love drove her mad.” But those who truly know understand that it wasn’t love, it was betrayal, it was loss, it was the cruel hand of fate.

And so she remains: unmarried, unloved, unseen. The boy grew up, never knowing the woman who bore him, never hearing her call him my son.

It’s a story that lingers like a wound that never heals, a reminder that sometimes, love doesn’t just break your heart, it breaks your mind, too.

Until next time, my dear readers, guard your heart, for not every love is meant to be survived.