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Sunday 14 June 2026 06:35:00 GMT
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She thought love meant endurance. When Tola met Kunle, he was everything—soft voice, charming smile, promises that felt like forever. The kind of man who called her “my peace.” The first slap came after six months. He cried immediately after. Fell to his knees. Said it was stress. Said she pushed him. Said it would never happen again. She believed him. Because love forgives… right? The second time, he didn’t cry. The third time, he locked the door. By the fifth time, she stopped counting. Her friends noticed the long sleeves. The silence. The way she flinched when someone raised their voice. But she always said the same thing: “He’s not always like that.” One night, it got worse. Way worse. He accused her of cheating. No proof. Just anger. That night, the shouting turned into something darker. He dragged her, hit her, and left her on the floor like she wasn’t human. She could barely breathe. For the first time, she thought: “I might die here.” And suddenly, love didn’t matter anymore. Survival did. That night, with blood on her lips and fear in her bones, she did something she should have done a long time ago— She ran. No shoes. No phone. Just ran. Neighbors found her. Help came. Healing started. Today, Tola is alive. Scarred, yes—but alive. Kunle? He’s in prison. And Tola now says this to every woman who will listen: “If he hits you once, believe him. That is who he is. Love should never feel like fear. The moment it does… RUN.” ⸻ Domestic violence doesn’t get better. It escalates. Don’t stay and hope. Don’t stay and pray. Don’t stay and die. Leave. Because your life is worth more than his apology. #domesticviolencesurvivor  #againstdomesticviolence #staysafe #stayalive
She thought love meant endurance. When Tola met Kunle, he was everything—soft voice, charming smile, promises that felt like forever. The kind of man who called her “my peace.” The first slap came after six months. He cried immediately after. Fell to his knees. Said it was stress. Said she pushed him. Said it would never happen again. She believed him. Because love forgives… right? The second time, he didn’t cry. The third time, he locked the door. By the fifth time, she stopped counting. Her friends noticed the long sleeves. The silence. The way she flinched when someone raised their voice. But she always said the same thing: “He’s not always like that.” One night, it got worse. Way worse. He accused her of cheating. No proof. Just anger. That night, the shouting turned into something darker. He dragged her, hit her, and left her on the floor like she wasn’t human. She could barely breathe. For the first time, she thought: “I might die here.” And suddenly, love didn’t matter anymore. Survival did. That night, with blood on her lips and fear in her bones, she did something she should have done a long time ago— She ran. No shoes. No phone. Just ran. Neighbors found her. Help came. Healing started. Today, Tola is alive. Scarred, yes—but alive. Kunle? He’s in prison. And Tola now says this to every woman who will listen: “If he hits you once, believe him. That is who he is. Love should never feel like fear. The moment it does… RUN.” ⸻ Domestic violence doesn’t get better. It escalates. Don’t stay and hope. Don’t stay and pray. Don’t stay and die. Leave. Because your life is worth more than his apology. #domesticviolencesurvivor #againstdomesticviolence #staysafe #stayalive

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