LOVE IS WICKED TO A FAULT

The Professor Who Vanished The rain arrived before the dawn. It was not the soft, comforting drizzle that whispered people back to sleep. It came like an army—fierce, relentless, and unforgiving—hammering rooftops and flooding deserted streets as though heaven itself was trying to wash away a secret too dangerous for mankind to uncover. The city of Enugu slept beneath the storm, unaware that before nightfall one man would disappear, leaving behind a mystery that would shake lives, destroy reputations, and redefine the meaning of love forever. Professor Elias Nwoke stood motionless in his dimly lit study. The warm glow of an antique lamp illuminated shelves overflowing with books collected over four decades. Degrees, medals, and international awards adorned the walls, silent witnesses to a lifetime devoted to understanding the human soul. Yet none of those achievements mattered tonight. His eyes rested on a thick leather-bound manuscript lying on his desk. Across its cover, embossed in bold gold letters, were the words: LOVE IS WICKED TO A FAULT His fingers traced the title with unusual tenderness, as though saying goodbye to an old friend. This was more than a book. It was thirty years of relentless research... thirty years of interviewing prisoners, grieving parents, abandoned children, war survivors, religious leaders, politicians, psychologists, and victims whose scars had never truly healed. He had crossed continents searching for one answer. Why do people who claim to love one another often become the architects of each other's deepest pain? The answer he found terrified him. The world blamed hatred for its greatest tragedies. But hatred was rarely the beginning. More often than anyone dared admit, destruction was born from love stripped of wisdom. A mother's blind affection that shielded a murderous son. A husband whose obsession imprisoned the woman he claimed to adore. A pastor who protected corruption in the name of loyalty. A politician who looted public funds while insisting he was only securing his children's future. Every story whispered the same chilling truth. Love without truth becomes manipulation. Love without wisdom becomes bondage. Love without boundaries becomes wicked. Professor Nwoke knew the manuscript would challenge everything society believed about love. It would inspire many. It would expose others. And it would make powerful enemies. His phone vibrated. Unknown Caller. He hesitated before answering. "This is Professor Elias Nwoke." A calm, unfamiliar voice replied. "Professor... do not publish the manuscript." There was no fear in the voice. Only certainty. "The world deserves the truth," Elias answered quietly. "The world," the stranger replied, "doesn't fear lies." "It fears the truth that destroys comfortable lies." A long silence followed. Then came words that sent an icy chill through the room. "If you reveal what you've discovered, your name will disappear long before your book reaches the shelves." The line went dead. Professor Nwoke lowered the phone slowly. For the first time in many years, fear crept into his heart—not fear for his life, but fear that the truth might die with him. A gentle knock interrupted his thoughts. His elderly housekeeper, Mama Ngozi, entered carrying a steaming cup of tea. "You haven't slept again," she said softly. He forced a weary smile. "Some truths refuse to let a man rest." She placed the cup before him, her eyes clouded with concern. "These strange visitors... the anonymous letters... the late-night calls... They frighten me." Professor Nwoke looked through the rain-soaked window. "They are not afraid of me." He paused. "They are afraid of what people will become once they know the truth." --- Across the city, twenty-eight-year-old investigative journalist Zara Okeke hurried into the bustling newsroom of The National Observer. Bold, brilliant, and relentless, Zara had built her reputation exposing corruption that powerful people desperately wanted hidden. Her editor waved her into his office. "I've got an assignment for you." He slid a newspaper across the desk. The headline read: RENOWNED PROFESSOR TO UNVEIL RESEARCH THAT COULD CHANGE HUMAN HISTORY Zara smirked. "Another scholar claiming to have solved the world's problems?" Her editor shook his head. "This one's different." "He says humanity's greatest enemy isn't hatred." She folded her arms. "Then what is it?" "Love." She laughed. "That's absurd." "So says everyone." He leaned closer. "Go to his lecture tonight." "If he's wrong, write the story." "If he's right..." He left the sentence unfinished. Neither of them realised history was already changing. --- By evening, the university auditorium overflowed with students, professors, clergy, politicians, journalists, and curious citizens. Every seat was occupied. People stood along the walls. Others watched from outside through open windows despite the rain. An unusual tension filled the air. Professor Nwoke stepped onto the stage. Thunder rolled across the sky. The applause faded. He adjusted the microphone and spoke with quiet authority. "For centuries, mankind has believed hatred is our greatest enemy." He allowed the words to settle. "I stand before you tonight to tell you that hatred is rarely the beginning." The audience fell completely silent. "It is often only the final symptom." He looked slowly across the hall. "The disease..." "...is love that has lost its wisdom." Gasps echoed through the auditorium. He continued. "A father hides his son's crimes because he loves him." "A judge sacrifices justice to protect a friend." "A nation wages war under the banner of patriotism." "A woman remains in abuse because she mistakes suffering for devotion." "None of these begin with hatred." "They begin with love... that abandoned truth." An elderly pastor rose to his feet. "You insult the very foundation of humanity!" Professor Nwoke met his eyes without anger. "No." "I am defending it." "True love never asks truth to die." The room erupted into heated arguments. Voices rose. Chairs scraped across the floor. Suddenly— The lights went out. Darkness swallowed the auditorium. A terrified scream pierced the silence. Something heavy crashed onto the stage. Then... Nothing. Thirty agonising seconds later, the emergency lights flickered to life. The podium stood empty. The microphone swayed gently. Professor Elias Nwoke had vanished. His manuscript was gone. Every exit had remained guarded. No one had seen him leave. It was as though the storm itself had reached inside the auditorium... and stolen him. Panic spread like wildfire. People shouted. Security officers rushed in every direction. Reporters scrambled for answers. But Zara remained frozen. Her notebook trembled in her hands. Moments earlier, she had written the professor's final words. Now, beneath them, another sentence had appeared. She had not written it. Neither had anyone standing near her. The neat handwriting read: > "If you truly seek the truth... find the journal beneath the floor before they do." A cold shiver raced down her spine. She looked up slowly. From the shadows at the back of the auditorium... Someone was watching her. And smiling.