I Found Love

I Found Love Episode 5

I Found Love

Episode 5

© Charles N. Okere

I was browsing legal reports on my phone, catching up on weekly law updates, when a sudden idea struck me. It was my fourth day at Jane’s house in Abuja, and with only a few days left, I needed a plan to manage Amarachi and Sharon’s relentless advances.

Their obsession was becoming a liability, and I couldn’t risk getting entangled in their games. I paused my browsing and called Peter to inquire about where I could purchase an HD1080P eyewear video recorder in Abuja.

The shopping mall was just ten meters from Jane’s house, a short walk that led me to the device I needed. After testing it, I confirmed it worked perfectly. My strategy was simple: pretend to play along with their advances while secretly recording evidence to deter them. But I couldn’t help wondering—what did they see in me? Especially Sharon, whose husband was wealthier, more imposing, and far better endowed than I was.

The plan worked with Sharon. When I showed her the video of her begging me to sleep with her and threatened to show it to her husband, she backed off immediately. Amarachi, however, was unyielding. “You can’t blackmail me with that,” she scoffed, her defiance unshaken.

As my departure day approached, I confronted Jane about our charade. Her family had embraced me as their future son-in-law, unaware that our relationship was a façade.

“How will you tell them the truth?” I asked. Jane only sighed and walked away, leaving my question unanswered. Part of me wanted to extend my stay—Jane’s warmth, our late-night talks, pillow fights, and her infectious laughter lingered in my mind.

But Amarachi’s relentless seduction, unnoticed by the rest of the family, especially at the dinner table, made staying unbearable. I bid Jane and her family farewell, guilt gnawing at me for deceiving people who had welcomed me as their own.

I hoped they’d forgive me when Jane revealed the truth, especially Henry, who had grown closer to me than ever.

Back in Lagos, I resumed my solitary life, free of romantic entanglements. Yet, Jane’s memory haunted me—our moments together, her laughter, her warmth. I couldn’t shake her from my thoughts.

Three Months Later

Time dragged on, but Jane remained etched in my heart. I hid my feelings, unable to muster the courage to confess that I had fallen deeply in love with her. It had been ages since I felt this way. Did she feel the same? We hadn’t spoken since I left Abuja.

One evening, I summoned the courage to call her. She didn’t answer. I tried again—still no response. Assuming she was busy, I sent a heartfelt text pouring out my feelings. Hours passed without a reply.

Days later, still nothing. My heart sank. Had I made a fool of myself, confessing to someone who didn’t care?

Three days later, as I prepared dinner in my kitchen, gospel music blaring from my phone, an incoming call interrupted the song. It was Jane. My heart raced as I answered.

“Hello, Jane?”

“Chibu, I’m at your door. Please open it.”

Stunned, I rushed to the door. Jane stood there, her eyes bright with emotion. She threw her arms around me, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that felt like it lasted forever. When we finally parted, she apologized for ignoring my text. “Chibu, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you,” she confessed. “I tried to deny it, to hide it, but I couldn’t. Three months without you felt like a lifetime. It wasn’t chance that brought us together—it was destiny. I never thought I’d fall in love again.”

I smiled, my heart swelling, and invited her in. Over dinner, we talked for hours. I told her about Amarachi’s unsettling behavior during my stay. To my surprise, Jane admitted she had noticed Amarachi’s advances but chose to stay silent. We laughed, shared stories, and when bedtime came, we retired together. What followed was more beautiful than I could have imagined.

Four Months Later

Jane and I set a date for our wedding. One rainy evening, as I discussed plans with our event coordinator over the phone, a knock interrupted me. Still on the call, I opened the door to find Amarachi, dressed in a provocative gown. Shocked, I demanded to know why she was there so late.

She gave vague excuses, trying to push her way inside. Frustrated and cold from standing at the doorstep, I reluctantly let her in.

“Look, Amarachi,” I said firmly, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re not spending the night here.”

“Oh, Chibu, relax,” she purred, her tone manipulative. “Can’t I visit my childhood sweetheart? I know your wedding is in five days, but you can’t just push me out in this weather. I have nowhere else to go. Or are you punishing me for what happened years ago?” Her voice cracked, feigning tears.

“You’re such a drama queen,” I snapped. “I’m not falling for this. I’ll drive you to a hotel, but that’s it.”

“Why can’t I stay here?” she pressed. “I don’t like sleeping alone in a hotel.”

“Enough,” I said, my patience thinning. “I know you’re lying. Your husband and father-in-law own properties all over Lagos. Whatever your motives are, they won’t work.”

Amarachi’s façade dropped.

“Fine, you caught me,” she admitted, her voice low. “I want you to call off the wedding. I can’t bear the thought of you with another woman. I’ll divorce Henry right now—my lawyer can draw up the papers.

We can be together, Chibu. I’ll give you as many children as you want.” She inched closer, her eyes desperate.

I stared at her, incredulous. “Are you out of your mind? You need help.” When she persisted, I’d had enough. “Get out of my house!” I pushed her out and slammed the door, her parting words ringing in my ears: “There will be consequences if you don’t listen.”

The Wedding Day

Jane and I were married in a beautiful, unforgettable ceremony. Amarachi tried everything to sabotage us—schemes, threats, even attempts to sow discord in our marriage. But her plans backfired every time. Defeated, she had no choice but to accept reality. She lost a diamond chasing vanity.

Jane and I began our life together, bound by love and destiny, ready to face whatever came next.

The End.

© Charles N Okere