I thought not being a virgin at the time was a flex, but now I know otherwise. I wasn't forced; it was something I wanted to do. I just didn't think it would hurt this way. I still remember that day like it was yesterday.
"Where are you going after school?" Bree asked. I just smiled at her, and she instantly knew. "You're going to see him again, right?" she said while looking at me. "Yes, I am—and you're coming with me," I told her.
She refused, and when I asked why, she said, "Stephen's not good for you, and you know that. I'm not going with you to see him." I smiled knowingly because I knew she would still come. She was my best friend—that's what friends do, right?
Later that day, we went to his compound, and as usual, Bree stayed outside to wait for me while I went in to see him. I hugged Stephen immediately I saw him, and then we talked about school and random things. Then he asked me the question. "Are you a virgin?"
I didn't know what to say, but I knew I couldn't lie because I had heard some girls say guys could tell who was a virgin and who wasn't. So I said yes, and he smiled. I tried to change the topic, but everything shifted after that. Things started moving too fast, faster than I was ready for. His touch felt unfamiliar, sending a strange feeling through my body—something I had never experienced before.
Then it went further. Before I could fully process what was happening, we crossed a line I had never crossed before. The moment he pushed into me, everything changed. My body tensed instantly, the sharp pain hitting me in a way I wasn't prepared for.
I told him to stop—I begged him to—but he didn't. He kept going, apologizing and telling me to calm down, as if that would make it better, but it didn't. It only made everything worse. That moment, right there, was when I lost my virginity—not the way I imagined it, not the way I had hoped.
When it was over, I was expecting something—anything. A kiss, a hug, some kind of reassurance. But all he did was get dressed and start pressing his phone like nothing had happened. I got dressed too, hugged him, and left.
By the time I got outside, my friend had already left. I knew she had a valid reason, so I didn't overthink it. I just walked home, replaying every single moment that had happened.
That was how I lost my virginity at the tender age of sixteen. You'd think I would tell my mum about it, but as I said before, my family background is shaky. I didn't grow up with that kind of affection from a mother—the kind that makes you feel safe enough to say anything. I mean, of course she tried her best to raise us, but there was never really that mother-daughter bond.
Stephen stopped talking to me within the space of two weeks after we had sex. He would see me and pretend not to, and when I brought it up, he would say I was overthinking. I knew something was wrong, but the scary part was that I started believing him. I started thinking maybe I really was overthinking.
But by the time I finally understood what was going on, it was already too late.
Because I had already gotten way too attached to him, and I couldn't let go. You know that saying, "the person you give your virginity to, you give a piece of your heart"? It's true. Because even when he rejected me to my face, I still couldn't walk away.
I felt hurt. Used. Empty. The pain was so intense that I couldn't even cry—not because I didn't want to, but because it felt like the tears were stuck somewhere deep inside me. I had to pretend everything was fine, even when it wasn't. I felt like I had failed my mum. I couldn't bring myself to tell her I lost my virginity to someone who didn't feel anything for me.
My last days in school came and went. I graduated and got into college, and by then I had shut off my feelings for guys.
Or so I thought—