They began as a love story.

Two young doctors in Ghana, both intelligent, both ambitious, both convinced that love would be enough to carry them through anything.

Their marriage was a partnership of promise. They laughed easily, dreamed together, whispered plans of children and careers beneath mosquito nets and starlit skies.

When the opportunity came to migrate to Canada, it felt like destiny. She got the documents first. It was agreed: she would go ahead, establish herself, and file for him as her husband. He followed months later, welcomed by her arms and the crisp Canadian air.

At first, it was exhilarating. Together, they navigated the foreign cold, the strange accents, the mountain of bureaucracy that comes with building a new life. She soared. Within a few years, she was recognised as one of the brightest in her field, her name whispered with admiration in hospital corridors. He, however, struggled. His credentials required revalidation. His placements came slower. His progress was steady but not spectacular.

And here lies one of the quiet cruelties of gender.

For centuries, women have battled the assumption that they belong in the shadows, second to men. But when the roles reverse, when the woman rises faster, higher, brighter — it is often the man who is cast into the shadow, and society is no kinder to him than it has been to us. The natural order, people say, is that the man should lead, provide, and dominate. And when he does not, respect shifts.

She did not mean for hers to vanish, but it did.

Slowly at first, then all at once. She began to see him not as the man she had married, but as the man she was carrying.

Resentment crept in like mould in a forgotten corner. And then, recklessly, she went frolicking.

It began with his best friend — also a doctor, also Ghanaian, also navigating this new Canadian world. He laughed at her jokes, admired her brilliance, praised her beauty in ways her husband no longer did.

One stolen glance became an affair, a reckless spark that turned into fire.

The exposure was cinematic.

At a party, of all places — music thumping, wine flowing, laughter swirling. Whispers travelled like wildfire. “Did you hear?” “Her? With him?” Faces turned, eyes narrowed. The scandal ripped through their community, leaving her bare and humiliated.

And yet — here is the #unshakable irony.

Had the roles been reversed, had he been the one caught with another woman, would the scandal have been as brutal? Would he have been dragged through the mud with the same intensity? She doubted it. Men betray, and society shrugs.

Women betray, and society prepares the stake.

The marriage did not survive. Too many wounds, too many whispers, too much shame. He carried the scars of betrayal and humiliation. She carried the scars of judgment and regret.

But if you asked her, she would tell you this: the affair was not born of lust alone. It was born of imbalance. Of the crushing expectation that a man must always be more, that a woman must always be less, and the chaos that erupts when those roles flip.

Yes, she made choices. Yes, she broke vows. But her untold truth was this: she wanted to be loved for who she had become, not punished for it.

She wanted a marriage where success was not a competition but a shared triumph. She wanted passion that matched her brilliance, companionship that celebrated her fire, not one that shrank in its glow.

Instead, she found herself branded. Not just as an adulteress, but as a cautionary tale.

Their story is not unique. Immigration reshapes not only borders but marriages. Love is tested against the weight of culture, ego, and survival.

Sometimes, the cracks widen into fault lines. Sometimes, the ocean you cross together is not the one that drowns you — it is the one that shows you who you really are.

So here lies the question: was she a villain, or a woman who refused to live smaller so her husband could seem bigger? Was he a victim, or a man crushed by the weight of society’s expectations of masculinity? Perhaps they were both — lovers, victims, villains — all at once.

What remains are scars. His, hers, and the truth of a marriage that could not outlive the pressure of oceans crossed and roles reversed.

And perhaps this is the #Unshakable lesson here:

inequality cuts both ways. It diminishes women when it says we cannot rise, and it diminishes men when it insists they must never fall. Real partnership begins when we allow each other to simply be human — fragile, flawed, and enough.

‘See’ you next week.

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IG Handle: @unshakable.is.a.state.of.mind