As I savored my bowl of seafood okra, brimming with shrimp, prawns, crab, catfish, tilapia, clams, squid, and lobster, I decided to enjoy the soup alone today—no fufu, no pounded yam—just the richness of the seafood and a glass of room-temperature water. I was about to slurp the last bit of broth, saved for the perfect finish with a tender piece of fish I had reserved, when my phone rang. It was BY, a friend who rarely called. I picked up impulsively.
“Bro, I’m in trouble,” BY’s voice was firm but stressed.
“What happened, bro?” I asked, instantly concerned.
“My childhood friend, GG, has ruined me, bro,” he said, his voice shaking.
“GG? Your guy? How can he ruin you?” I asked, confused but deeply concerned. I knew how close they were—elementary school friends from 50 years ago, inseparable ever since. They were like two peas in a pod. I pressed further, “What happened, bro?”
BY sighed, then began explaining. He and GG had been through everything together—businesses, adventures, life’s highs and lows. They had made money, supported each other, and their families were intertwined. Their wives were best friends, and their kids were practically siblings. BY trusted GG with his life. Everyone who knew them knew that. We, their other friends, were always second-tier compared to GG.
But then, BY dropped the bombshell. Five years into his marriage, he had a one-night stand with a woman—someone he thought he had left in his past. He never gave it a second thought until five years later when the woman showed up at his office with a child, claiming it was his. Stunned, BY turned to GG, the one person he felt he could trust with anything. GG advised him to get a DNA test, and when it confirmed the child was indeed his, BY begged GG to keep the secret. He wasn’t ready to tell his wife yet. GG swore on their friendship, saying that only death would force him to betray that confidence.
Then BY’s voice lowered. “But last week, GG called me and said he had become born again, that he had given his life to Christ and that the Bible compels him to be truthful in all things. He said he couldn’t keep my secret anymore.”
I felt a pit form in my stomach as I listened. “What? Did he tell your wife?”
BY sighed heavily. “Yes, bro. He told her everything. Now my house is on fire, and I’m staying in a hotel. Things are hot at home, bro. My wife is devastated, and I don’t know what to do.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I knew what this meant. I knew how much BY loved his wife, how careful he was about his family, how this revelation would tear them apart. But what bothered me more was GG’s decision. Friendship is built on trust—on the understanding that there are some things you take to the grave, except it is an illegal act. GG had taken something sacred between them and exposed it.
“BY, I’m so sorry,” I said, trying to gather my thoughts. “This is heavy. But look, your issue right now is with your wife. GG’s betrayal is a separate thing, and you’ll deal with that. But first, you need to talk to your wife. Be honest, as much as you can. Yes, it’s painful, but you have to be the one to fix this. Don’t let GG’s actions be the end of your marriage.”
“I don’t know if I can fix this, bro,” BY said quietly. “She’s so hurt. And I just can’t believe GG did this to me. After all we’ve been through.”
I understood his pain. GG had crossed a line, not just as a friend but as a brother. He claimed his newfound faith demanded honesty, but where was the loyalty? Where was the understanding that some things aren’t his to reveal?
“You trusted him with something incredibly sensitive,” I replied, “and instead of giving you the space to handle it, he chose to act like a messenger of truth. But being born again doesn’t mean betraying those you’ve stood by for decades. That’s not how it works.”
“What do I do with GG?” BY asked.
“That’s up to you,” I said softly. “Trust is broken now, maybe forever. Whether or not you can forgive him is something only time will tell, but I do know this—you’ve got a wife who’s hurt and a family at stake. Focus on them first.”
We ended the call, the weight of his situation pressing down on me long after the line went dead. My seafood okra had gone cold, but I didn’t care. In that moment, I understood something deeper about friendship and betrayal, faith and loyalty. GG’s faith had given him the courage to be “truthful,” but it had come at the cost of a friendship. BY was now standing at a crossroads, unsure of where either relationship would go from here.
Trust, once shattered, is a hard thing to rebuild. Whether it was with his wife or with his friend, BY would have to decide which bonds were worth repairing—and which, perhaps, were beyond saving.
NB: Johnson Babalola, a Canada based lawyer, leadership consultant and corporate emcee, is a public affairs analyst.
