🎬 Season 1, Episode 8 - “The Blindside Visit”

 

“The Blindside Visit”

The house was quiet.

Chukwuamaka sat alone on the couch, staring blankly at her phone. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. Her fingers hovered over the screen as her mind replayed the moment from a few nights ago the touch, the stare, the energy she couldn't explain.

"I shouldn’t have allowed it," she whispered.

Her breath hitched.

Guilt wrestled with something else she didn’t want to name. A part of her felt drawn… confused. But another part knew it was wrong.

She tapped the screen and dialed the man of God's number.


Scene opens In the man of God's office; he sat behind his desk, a slow smile stretching across his face as he looked at the caller ID.

"Its about to go down..." he murmured.

He didn’t even speak for the first two seconds after picking.

REV. KUKPEJE(Softly): “You called.”

CHUKWUAMEKA (low, hesitant):
“I… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About the other night. I think I crossed a line.”

REV. KUKPEJE:
(chuckles softly)
“Don’t apologize. Some doors open because it is time for them to open.”

His words lingered in her ears even after the call ended.

That morning, Chukwuamaka told Obiora she wasn’t feeling too well.

“Go on, I’ll be fine,” she said, coughing lightly. “Just a headache.”

Obiora kissed her forehead, concerned, and left for work.

Not an hour later, the bell rang.

Rev. Kukpeje stood at the door. Tall, confident, and smiling.

She hesitated… then let him in to sit at the hall.



Steam rose from the pot as she stirred egusi soup, laced with goat meat and spices.

Rev. Kukpeje sat at the dining table, inhaling the aroma.

“This smells divine,” he said.

She smiled, a nervous, unguarded smile.

“I haven’t made this in years,” she admitted.
Not even for Obiora.
Food was later ready, and served. He took his first bite, closed his eyes, and hummed.

“You’re a gift.”

Hours had passed. The day slipped into evening. The sky outside turned dark.

Obiora pushed open the door to their home, briefcase in hand.

The smell of rich spices greeted him… and so did a strange silence.

Then he saw him.

Rev. Kukpeje asleep on their couch, his shoes still on, breathing slow and deep like he’d lived there all his life.

Obiora frowned.

“Good evening…” he said quietly, not hiding the cold edge in his voice.

He set his bag down, walked past, and noticed something strange a perfumed scent lingering in the air. Not just food.

The bedroom door was ajar.

There stood Chukwuamaka, half-dressed in a lacy wrap he hadn’t seen before or at least hadn’t seen her wear for him.

She gasped slightly, surprised to see him.

“You’re… back early,” she said.

Obiora looked at her, then at the man on his couch, then back at her. He didn’t say a word.

But his eyes did.

And deep within him… something cracked.

To be continued...

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