When Omoye was moving to Canada just under a year ago, she’d heard everything about relationships. “Men were scarce abroad”, they’d said. “Guard your status and don’t tell anyone except your HR about it”, they’d said. There were so many Instagram posts saying the same thing. Men warning other men about girls abroad. Women warning other women about men abroad. It wasn’t just about the fear of meeting someone and finding out they had a full-on family in her home country. It was also the fear of love-scam: The one where the firmer your status in the country, the higher your chances of finding “love”. That love could be real or not, but no one wanted to find out the hard way. The distrust was loud. Every immigrant she knew said the same thing. Or implied it. There had to be some truth in it, she thought. Everyone could not be wrong. Or could they? The unspoken message was clear still: Bring your own spouse.

Occasionally, she’d come across some posts by party bloggers online. Or some video would find its way to her Instagram feed. Couples who met abroad and made things right.

Were they the anomaly? Or, was everything she’d heard simply fearmongering? So imagine her surprise when, one week into her arrival, out and about the town, exploring a farmers’ market with her host, she met the love of her life. Well, at the time, he was a stranger who had that familiar stride known to her countrymen. From his swaddle, she could tell he was Nigerian.

She’d been excited about finding some dark berries when she heard that voice behind her.

“Excuse me, are you Nigerian?”

Before she could respond, “I’ve been trying to get some Shepherd pepper, but there are so many varieties of pepper, I can’t tell which one it is. Please help me!” he said making a puppy face.

“My name is Obiora.”

“Nice to meet you, Obiora”, she’d said, not supplying her own name.

She helped the man find some pepper and headed back to her host. He ran after her to say thank-you, and asked her to Lunch instead. She didn’t think helping someone deserved a thank-you lunch, so she declined and promised he could take her to lunch if they ever met again.

He would later tell her, he found it a challenge and decided he had to meet her again. And soon, too. Even if only to get that lunch out of her. But he also knew Toronto is a huge city, and the chances of meeting someone again if you were not within the same circle could take years. He waited by the car lot.

She’d said, if they met again. She didn’t say it had to be a different spot. So while she spent the afternoon with her host browsing through the assortment of fruits at the market, he waited at the car lot. And so when she headed to the car with her host, he came forward, and re-introduced himself as the guy she helped pick some pepper earlier. Since this was their second time meeting, would she go to lunch with him? He asked her. She’d promised, he reminded her. How could she say no this time?

“I didn’t get your name”, he’d said.

“I didn’t share”, she’d replied with a grin.

“Sweet”, he’d said. “I love a challenge”.

One lunch quickly turned into social media follows. It took another few weeks before he found out her name. Then the conversations. Her looking for work. Him reviewing resumes with her. Hiking. More conversations. Helping her find her apartment. Kayaking. Moving her things from her host’s place. Finding furniture. Getting employed. Sip and Paint. Video calls. Video calls with your family. Video calls with his family. Arcade games. Dinners together. Banff. Dinners with friends. Keeping promises.

Almost one year down, and he was down on one knee asking her to marry him. A man she’d met in Toronto. The same Toronto where everyone swore love didn’t exist. Just quick swipes on Tinder, Netflix and chill, and blocking each other a few weeks after. That Toronto.

She was so excited about it all. About this love, this man. This man who’d kept his word to her. This man who’d said 6 pm and wouldn’t be a minute late. This man she’d met in Toronto. This man who didn’t get hung up on her status. Nor she on his. This man who’d loved her on good days and terrible ones. Through the unfortunatelys of the job search when they landed in her emails. Who’d walked with her and showed her things in her new country. Intentional man, or whatever they called it.

She didn’t want to share the joy yet. For once, she kept the news to herself. Savouring it at night, wearing the glow at day.

Kelsey noticed. Her proper weyrey of a friend. If not for her skin tone, and if she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn they were from the same country. But she wasn’t. She was the Yin to your Yang. Kelsey had migrated from Europe to Canada. And she did it as an adult, too, starting with a study visa. Fifteen years in, she had grown into a successful career professional and had done really well for herself. She’d met her husband in Toronto too, and now had three kids together. The man absolutely adored her. She’d met Kelsey at work, the same workplace where everyone tells her to keep it cool, show less ambition, and be the chief of small talk.

At work, Kelsey was that mentor and ally who carried her into rooms she wouldn’t have made it into on her own, and in such a short time since joining the company, too.

She shared her joy with Kelsey, and the older woman couldn’t contain her scream. They both decided they’d go to the restaurant downstairs after work to celebrate. She asked Obiora she’d uber home. She and Kelsey were having a night out. Just as they downed glasses of their favourite cocktails, Kelsey asked her if she’d checked him out on “Are We Dating the Same Guy?”. It was a page where women checked with other women if they were dating the same guy. She’d heard about the group but had never given it a thought. She’d never followed the page, nor bothered to request joining. So why would Kelsey be suggesting it?

She had absolutely no doubt about Obiora. He was hers through and through. Never a moment’s doubt. Never even as much as an amber light anywhere. He was the love of her life, wasn’t he? Her dream-come-true-man. But something kicked her with Kelsey’s question. Was there really any harm in checking? How would he know?

She sent a photo of Obiora to the older woman, who sent it to the group, even as they both chuckled over their foolishness. A few minutes later, the first notification dropped. Obiora with another woman. Then another notification. Then another. 6 women replied to the photo. All in different photos with him. In clothes and moments that she knew about. That he’d told her about. Moments he’d said he was hanging out with his boys and even sent her photos for. Moments he’d travelled for work or a retreat, and he’d called her every chance he got. He was seeing other people? He was their boyfriend too? Their dream-come-true-man. Only now, this was becoming her nightmare. The kind where her life, her love, was right at the centre. The one where she was now realizing she’d shared with 6 other people.

“Oh my God!”

Finally, her welcome-to-Toronto gift. Her rose-coloured lens finally shattered. She hit the floor.

The end!