16/06/2026
EPISODE 1
Chioma still remembered the smell. Not the flowers.Not the perfume people sprayed around the compound. The smell of fresh earth hitting the coffin.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Three years later, that sound still woke her up at night. Because inside that coffin was her husband. Or so she believed.
"Madam Chioma, your change."
The bus conductor's voice dragged her back to reality. She collected the money absent-mindedly and stepped down at Rumuola Junction.
Port Harcourt was already buzzing. Traders shouting. Keke riders dragging passengers. Generators humming from nearby shops. Life had moved on.
But Chioma hadn't.
Three years ago, her husband, Emeka Okafor, died in a terrible accident along the East-West Road.
His car had caught fire. The police said the body was badly burnt. Identification was made through documents recovered from the vehicle and personal items found at the scene.
A closed-casket burial was advised.
And so she buried him. At twenty-nine, she became a widow.
At thirty-two, she was still wearing that title like a chain around her neck.
---
That evening, she returned from work exhausted. Her one-room apartment felt unusually hot.
She switched on the standing fan and collapsed onto the sofa. The television was already playing. Some business programme she wasn't paying attention to. She reached for her phone.
Then froze.
A voice.
A familiar voice.
Her heart skipped. Slowly, she turned toward the screen.
A wealthy businessman was being interviewed at the opening of a new real-estate project in Lagos. The reporter smiled.
"Mr. David Cole, congratulations on your latest investment."
The man laughed. And Chioma dropped her phone.
"No"
"No, Impossible"
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Her chest tightened.
She moved closer to the television.
The man's beard was different.
His haircut was different.
His dressing was more expensive.
But the eyes.
The smile.
The slight scar above his left eyebrow.
Even the way he adjusted his wristwatch while speaking. Chioma knew that habit.
She had watched it for seven years of marriage.
The man on television was Emeka. Her dead husband. The same man she buried three years ago. The same man whose grave she visited every month. The same man whose death destroyed her life.
Her hands began to shake violently.
"No..."
She whispered.
"No... no... no..."
The reporter continued speaking.
"Mr. Cole, where are you originally from?"
The man smiled.
"I prefer to keep my personal life private."
Chioma felt the blood drain from her face.
Because that smile...
That exact smile... Was the one Emeka used whenever he was hiding something.
---
That night she did not sleep.
At 2:17 a.m., she sat on her bed staring at the paused image on her phone.
She had recorded the interview.
Zoomed in.
Paused it.
Studied it repeatedly.
Every detail screamed one thing.
Emeka!!
Alive.
Breathing.
Walking.
Smiling.
Living. While she mourned him for three years.
---
Then her phone vibrated.
A WhatsApp message.
Unknown Number.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She opened it.
The message contained only seven words.
"STOP LOOKING FOR DEAD PEOPLE, CHIOMA"
Her eyes widened.
Before she could react, another message entered.
And this one made her scream.
It was a photograph.
A fresh photograph.
Taken barely hours ago.
Someone had secretly taken a picture of her standing in front of her television.
Inside her own apartment.
Watching the interview.
And beneath the picture was a final message:
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED A WIDOW.
END OF EPISODE 1
"😱 Chioma buried her husband three years ago. She watched his coffin lowered into the ground with her own eyes.
So why did she just see him alive on national television... using another name?
And who sent her a secret photo taken inside her apartment only moments later?
The mystery is just beginning.
🔥 EPISODE 2 drops next🚨🚨 and the truth behind Emeka's "death" will leave you speechless.
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Don't miss Episode 2: The Number That Shouldn't Exist.
