Love’s Gentle Rain By O.J Ebubeoha (KISS THE RAIN ANTHOLOGY)

BLURB

Losing a loved one hurts… 

But falling in love again heals.

Three years after the death of her fiancé, Amara still struggles with the guilt and trauma of his death. Moving on is even harder as she’s harassed by his family and reminded of her sins. 

Hiding from the world, she grapples with her pain in silence until she meets a stranger whose eyes slowly light up her world, and his words gently soothe her broken heart.

Betrayed and reeling from the aftermath of a bad divorce and losing custody of his son, Chibuike returns to Nigeria to grieve his loss and nurse his heart in private. 

His plans take an interesting turn and his heart, a mind of its own, as he slowly falls for the woman next door who doesn’t even know he exists.

DEDICATION

To all women grieving the loss of a loved one.

ONE

We raced into the airport like two crazed people. One look at me, and you’d think I’d just run a cross-country race. I was panting, breathless, and had hair stuck on my face and lips. Josh, my fiancé, on the other hand, looked like he just skipped around his backyard, barely breaking a sweat.

I didn’t wait to fix my appearance before I dragged him into the check-in area. As soon as we handed our tickets to the attendant, she scanned it and gave me ‘the look.’ That one where you know without being told that something was wrong.

We didn’t make it. 

My tiny tote bag slid out of my hand. My heart went from a merry-go-round to ice-cold in an instant. Placing one hand on my hip and the other around my neck, horrified that we had missed our flight after carefully planning this trip for weeks, I turned to look at my partner, eyes wide and empty, only to find him biting his lips and looking away from me in an attempt not to laugh. 

Pissed, I moved toward him. He stepped back, taking a protective stance, but still unable to wipe that stupid smile off his lips. I didn’t know if to cry, laugh, or scream at our situation because we did this to ourselves. 

I ran my hand through the tresses of my already disheveled wig, torn that we should have waited until we arrived in Ghana to go all freaky. Now we were paying for it.

I sighed, turned again to look at the airplanes taking off from the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, and felt my eyes swell. 

“Sugar, it’s okay.”

“How is this okay? You know it’s not.”

He reached for me, and I pulled back, turning away.

He shuffled his feet, then tried again. “Babe, I’m sorry we were late. But we’ve already missed this flight.”

“Whose fault was it?”

He scratched his head, gave me a knowing look, and smiled. “Do you want me to answer that?”

I didn’t turn around. I knew if I did, he’d win this round. Heaven knows, I couldn’t resist his mischievous smile. 

When I didn’t budge, he changed tactic and approached me again while maintaining a clear distance. “Ama, come on now. What has happened has happened. Let’s talk with the staff to see if they can reschedule our flight for this evening or tomorrow.” 

I turned and glared at him, still mourning the loss of our dearly beloved trip. He ignored the daggers I was shooting at him, walked up to me, pulled me close, and wrapped his hands around my waist from behind. He trailed kisses on my neck and sniffed my hair. “Don’t stay angry with me for too long. I’m sorry, but I don’t regret missing this flight, though. Wherever you are is where home is, my love.” 

I leaned into him, knowing what would come next. He whispered it softly and kissed my cheeks as he always did. “My coco sugar.”

My body melted into his.

“I’m not angry, Josh,” I said and closed my eyes. “Just disappointed. I was looking forward to it. I’m unsure about what’ll happen to the arrangement I’d already made for tonight.”

His body tensed behind mine. “I thought we agreed to be spontaneous? What was the arrangement you made for?” 

Surprised at allowing that to slip, I knew he wouldn’t let it go, so I tried to cover up. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Josh’s arms tightened around my waist. “What are you cooking in this pretty head, Amara?” he asked, leaned in, and brought his lips to my ears, whispering, “Tell me what it is.”

His voice sent shivers down my spine. My body lit up like lights on a Christmas tree, and as I was about to say something, I felt the moment slipping away. 

No! Not again. 

I gasped, placed a hand on my chest, and called out for Josh as everything blurred, and the room started spinning. Panicking, I chased his retreating shadow, calling for him, but the more I tried to reach him, the farther he went.

“Don’t leave me! Please, wait for me,” I begged him, racing to take his outstretched hands, but his distorted form moved farther out of my reach. 

I crumbled to my knees and fought to hold on to the moment. My heart ached and the noise in my ears grew louder. Every time I got to the point of telling him what I wanted to say, I was interrupted. In the same way, one of the staff had interrupted us that day to inform us that we had to reschedule for the next day.

The next day never came. October 7th, 2021, was the day my world turned pitch black and my life clock stopped ticking.

My eyes grew misty and hot. I felt the first fat drops kiss my cheeks just before the shrill sound of my ringtone pierced through my dreams, shattering the moment. 

I jerked awake with a heart-wrenching cry. God, whoever was on the other line must have a death wish. 

Although my heart ached, it was nothing compared to the fury brewing in my belly after having my last moments with Josh ripped from my grip. I fumed, blaming life for being so cruel to me. ‘Who had I offended that had vowed to make my life miserable?’ 

Jaws clenched, I pulled my teal green colored duvet over my head, and buried myself beneath it, furiously wiping my tears.

Frustrated, I screamed beneath my duvet, thrashing around my bed, when my phone rang again. Ready for war, I rolled out from the bed, eyes searching for the source of my frustration while shaking off the fog in my mushy brain.

“Hello,” I barked at the caller as soon as I answered. “Who is this?”

It took a full second before I got a reply. It was as if the caller was deciding whether to continue or end the conversation based on the curt tone of my voice. Served them right.

“Hi, good morning. My name is Anita. Am I speaking with Miss. Amarachi Okonkwo?”

“Yes, this is her?”

Her sigh of relief over the phone, followed by her string of apologies for something I didn’t quite catch, further grated on my nerves. 

Seething as she spoke, I was absentminded and half paying attention to what she was saying until she mentioned Rangers Corp and a job interview scheduled for 10 a.m.

Instantly, my foul mood got lit on fire and burnt to a crisp. I couldn’t believe my ears. I was scheduled for my dream interview as a marketing strategist at Rangers Corp, only to be informed about it at 7:45 a.m. 

Why am I so unfortunate? Indeed, my misfortunes know no bounds.

I zoned out while Anita was still apologizing profusely for the lack of communication about the interview. She claimed she had only found out I didn’t receive the notification for the interview after reviewing the interviewees, who confirmed their availability that morning. 

Every other thing Anita said to me didn’t matter because my scattered brain was more overwhelmed with showing up at this interview looking composed when, deep down, I was freaking out.

Applying for this job at Rangers Corp after over two years of dealing with my grief had been the only thing that made sense in my life since Josh passed. It was one of the many things we’d talked about doing when I fully moved to Abuja after we got married. 

When he passed, it made more sense to leave Anambra and start my life afresh, not only because I felt closer to Josh and shielded from his family’s ostracization, but because I was on the verge of losing my mind.

As soon as Anita ended the call, I placed a hand over my heart, screaming, dancing, chanting, and praying in my spirit that I don’t mess up this opportunity. This is the best news I’ve had all year, aside from reading the reviews from the few clients I’d mustered the courage to work with online through Upwork. 

Though I was technically a house sitter, living in a detached Boys’ Quarters and watching over my landlord’s home when they were not around, which was never, I still had financial obligations to meet. For the first time in a long time, I felt a jolt in my soul when I smiled. I’d put off this opportunity for long and have waited even much longer for it, to allow it to slip through my fingers.

Whistling a tune and feeling jolly, I moved around my bed to open my matching teal-green flower-patterned curtains. I placed a kettle of water to boil and rushed through, preparing everything I needed for my interview. I double-checked the folder where I kept all my credentials, planned my route, and sang as I walked to the bathroom, mentally affirming and manifesting my success. Halfway through having my bath, I heard soft pata pata outside my bathroom window. I gasped. Oh God, let it not rain!

My prayers went unanswered as it continued to trickle. “No. No. No,” I cried, peeping out of my window. I couldn’t tell if it was just a drizzle or heaven playing a prank on me. Still, it felt as if my chest was going to explode. Of all the days in August, why today? 

Rushing out of the bathroom, half covered in soap and wrapped in a towel, I opened my door to check how bad the weather was and froze. A hideous-looking white-bearded stranger in a hoodie I’d never seen before stood in front of my room, poised to knock. My heart jumped out of my chest as a zillion thoughts raced through my mind. 

Is this how I’ll get kidnapped in my home? Did someone from Josh’s family send him to track me down? Was he here to steal from me? Did he scale the wall? Did he escape jail? He looked rough but not threatening, so maybe not a criminal. Despite that, who the heck was he, and what business did he have with me at 8:00 am on a Monday? 

I processed all these thoughts at once and watched his eyes, a strange pair of silver-gray, come alive as he sized me up. I concluded that although he may not be a criminal, he had dirty intent. My brain buzzed with ways to save myself, but I could only focus on one thing. Screaming for help. 

We both realized what I was about to do when our eyes met. He sprung backward, pulled the hoodie down his neck so I could see his face, and raised his hand in surrender. 

“Hey, hey. Please, calm down. I’m not a bad person. I’m so sorry I scared you like that. It wasn’t intentional,” he said, rushing through the words in a millisecond.

My scream died midway, and I subconsciously adjusted my towel. Out of habit, I lifted my hand to draw lines through the imaginary cornrows on my short, gold-tinted hair to calm my racing heart when I felt my fingers slide through the silky foam. Mortified, I gasped. I couldn’t believe I answered the door looking like a bubble of foam. Immediately, I looked at myself from my shoulders down, looked back at him, and almost died. I realized now why his eyes had twinkled a second ago.

Before he could say anything, I backed away from him and ran inside my room, slamming my door shut and locking it before letting myself scream. 

I forgot about my interview, the quiet rain drizzling outside, and my life for a minute, as I pictured that stranger’s eyes light up like fireworks when he saw me. 

I palmed my face, shivers of embarrassment running down my spine as I thought of the many ways to end my life and hide my shame.

Never in my life had I wished for God to erase me from this earth or wipe my brain. Not even when Josh’s family made my life a living hell, accused me of the unthinkable, and said words that left deep scars in my soul. But today, I reverently prayed to him to wipe the memory of that stranger’s eyes from my mind because I was beyond horrified.

Who was he, anyway? He said he wasn’t a bad person, still I couldn’t place his face. Neither had I seen those eyes before. His were the kind that would have stuck in my mind, so I would never have forgotten them if we’d met before. 

I resolved to solve the case of the mystery man after my interview. No time to think about that now. Rushing back to the bathroom, I heard the loud thumping of raindrops against the rooftop. The intensity of the rain had certainly increased. Good Lord, how much more did I have to deal with this morning? It was as if everything was against me going for this interview, which boosted my resolve to beat my odds and break my life’s jinx. I didn’t mind getting drenched. I was as determined as ever to show up there. Composure be damned.

In the less than twenty minutes it took me to finish getting dressed and look fairly presentable, the clouds had turned slightly dark. Panicking, I packed my bags and shoved my shoes, small makeup kit, and a spare gown into another bag, just in case I needed it. Before stepping out, I made the sign of the cross, kissed my rosary, and was ready to brave the worst of anything that happened today. 

With only an hour and a half to the interview time, I pulled my sweater over my head and ran from my apartment at the far end of the compound toward the gate. I took cover from the pelting rain on the front porch of my landlord’s triplex building and tried to book an Uber. I got a blank screen. “All the drivers are busy,” it said. I tried using Bolt. I got the same response. Beyond frustrated, I cradled my head in my hand. ‘God, what is all this?’ I lamented, my eyes growing hot. At that moment, I caught myself thinking about Josh. I knew that if he were here, he wouldn’t hesitate to assist or send help if he was unavailable. 

Feeling my dreams crumbling around me, and believing he could hear me, I whispered, “Sugar, if you can hear me, Coco needs your help.” Instantly, the front doors of my landlord’s triplex opened and the stranger from before walked out like he owned the place. Stunned, I looked away and sprang up from where I sat, my insides burning from remembering our meeting, as I absentmindedly fiddled with my phone. 

The man’s deep voice pierced the air. “Hey, I mean no harm. I just need a second to explain myself.” 

He strode to where I stood, his hands jammed into the pockets of his tracks. His hoodie remained pulled down, but this time, he had slightly unzipped it. “Hi, I’m Chibuike. My stepparents own this place. I’m so sorry for taking you unawares earlier.”

I scoffed. “That wasn’t unawares. That was an invasion of privacy.”

He snickered, then grew serious when he saw my death glare. “I’m sorry about earlier. Truce?”

He stepped close and extended his hand for a handshake, which unwittingly offered me the opportunity to have a good look at him. Standing a little above my average height and eye level, I noticed my first impression of him was dead on. He looked rough, like a man who’d crawled his way through hell and came out scorched. But his eyes, his piercing gaze, would make anyone want to dig deeper into his soul and smooth out his edges. I liked how his silver scruffy three-day stubble and low Afro cut with a faded trim complimented his looks.

“Truce.” I shook his hands once and let go. Curious, I asked why he’d visited me earlier.

My phone pinged as he was about to respond. I quickly checked my phone and stomped my feet. I finally got a driver who’d accepted the ride, but he was twenty-five minutes away and was still on a ride. Fanning my face, I paced back and forth, completely ignoring the confused expression on the man’s face as I thought about what to do. Coming up short and annoyed by the rain that’s refused to help my predicament, I let out my frustrations. “What do I do now? What sort of rubbish is all this? Twenty-five minutes is too much. I’m already late as it is.”

I canceled the ride and was about to search for another when he interrupted. “Are you going somewhere important? I noticed your credentials on the table.”

My eyes watered before I could respond. I hated feeling this helpless. It made me overly emotional and turned me into a big crybaby. Funny how that was one thing Josh loved about me. He confessed it always made him aware of my feelings and proud that he was a guardian to such a warm, delicate soul. 

“Yes,” I managed to say, blinking. “I have an interview scheduled for 10 a.m.”

He cleared his throat. “Can I drop you off? It’s the least I can do after scaring you this morning.”

Grateful, I nodded. “Thank you.”

He scratched his chin, chuckled, and looked at me with the same amusing glint in his eyes from before. “Nah. Thank you for being the best thing that’s happened to me all year.”

He ran inside before I could ask what he meant and came back soon after, jiggling his car keys. “Let’s go.”

TWO

The pouring rain was trickling by the time I finished my interview and was ready to leave. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was hopeful that by the end of the week or the coming one, as they promised, I’d know my fate. 

I booked my ride, left the reception area, and walked outside to wait at the entrance, so I could watch the rain drizzle. Josh loved the rain. He’d say it was God’s way of washing us anew and showering blessings on his children all at once. Josh had a weird sense of perception, which made it easy to love him. Strangely, in the last three years, today was the first time I felt the urge to watch the rain as we used to. I mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him for sending a helper when I needed one and for gifting me many ‘firsts’ in a long time.

I sighed, feeling happy that I scored my dream interview despite all the events and embarrassing moments leading up to it, but empty that the one person I would have loved to share this happiness with was no longer around. I heard footsteps in the rain from behind me and turned to see Chibuike walking toward me with an umbrella. My jaws dropped. 

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked when he was up close. 

Stunned, it took me a second to respond. “Ermm, yes. I concluded my interview a little while ago. I’m waiting for my ride. What are you still doing here?”

“Waiting for you?”

“Really? Why didn’t you say you would wait for me when you dropped me off? I would have come to you after my interview if I’d known.”

He smiled, rubbed his neck, and slid his hand back into his pants pocket. “I decided to do that after you’d left. It made more sense to wait for you, since you were the reason I came to town.”

Feeling bad and super grateful, I apologized for keeping him waiting. 

He brushed it aside. “It’s nothing. I would have texted if I had your number. Since I didn’t have it, I did the next logical thing.”

I canceled my ride, and we walked to his car. I noticed he’d turned on the heater again before stepping out to get me. He’d done it the first time he drove me here, and I didn’t think much about it, though I had been grateful because I was susceptible to the cold. However, this time around, I took notice of his thoughtfulness, and it raised questions in my mind. How did he know I was sensitive to the cold without asking? 

He asked about my interview and I told him how it went. We talked about other random things until he suddenly asked if we could get lunch in the middle of our conversation about food.

He asked what I wanted, and I replied, “Abacha or Amala, anyone is fine.” His eyes twinkled again, and this time, he laughed. It sounded like music to my ears. 

“What? Why these two?” he asked.

I shrugged. “After the eventful morning I’ve had, I need a meal that’ll make me feel happy and forget my problems for now. Abacha or Amala is that meal. My happiness lies in those two delicacies.”

“For real?”

“Yes.”

“Who would have thought that an Igbo lady would list a Yoruba delicacy as her favorite?”

Surprised he knew my tribe, I asked, “I didn’t tell you my name, so how did you know?”

He chuckled. “I know things.”

His response piqued my interest, but he cut in before I could question him. “I don’t know my way around, or anywhere in town, for that matter. Can you search for excellent restaurants close by and add them to the map? Or you can add your favorite spot if you have one. I’ll drive us there.”

Curious, I asked, “Really? Why is that?”

He shrugged. “This is my first time driving in two months since my return from Canada, so I’m not used to the roads. However, I’m familiar with it because the few times I did step out, I ordered a ride.”

“Why did you come back to Naija?” I asked him, narrowing my gaze at him.

He drew in a sharp breath and exhaled. “I needed space to breathe and a little break… For my mental health.”

The mystery surrounding this man intrigued me increasingly. I had so many questions that my imagination was running wild.

We had lunch, talked about life in Canada and a little about his private business consultancy firm, and we drove back home. As we approached the gates of our estate, my cell phone rang. I asked Chibuike to excuse me for a moment, so I could take the call. The first words I heard drove a spear through my soul. 

“Witch! So, you’re still alive and well,” the caller screamed into the phone. “You’ll never know peace in your life.”

I paled and shrank into my seat. Even in death, I’d recognize that chilling voice anywhere. Frozen, I struggled to breathe while she continued to curse. The tighter I clutched my phone, the deeper she plunged her spear, hacking me to pieces from the inside out. Hot air filled my head, and I blinked back the biting tears gathering beneath my lids.

“Mama, why are you doing this to me?” I asked, my voice barely audible and my soul broken by her words. “Why won’t you let this go, mama? Haven’t you tormented me enough?”

“For as long as I’m alive, I’ll never let this go. You killed him. Amara, you murdered my only son and his unborn child, who would have carried on with his legacy. You took my joy away from me, and you want me to let it go? Over my dead body,” she hissed and cursed. 

Subconsciously, I had gripped the neckline of my gown and was frantically pulling at it so I could breathe until Chibuike placed a hand on mine to stop me from hurting myself. 

Ever so gently, he reached for my phone, asking permission with his eyes and pleading that I let it go. He turned it off, cutting Josh’s mother mid-curse. 

As soon as he did, I wrapped my hands around my midsection and let it all out, assailed by the heart-wrenching memories from three years ago, like a cassette permanently playing on repeat.

I remember that day like it happened seconds ago. I could still feel the pain tearing through my hairline as Josh’s mother rushed over and grabbed my braids at his funeral and the string of expletives that followed as I begged and struggled to pull free from her grip. The more I tried, the tighter she gripped my hair and pulled. 

Dazed, I fell, ruining my black dress. But she wouldn’t let go. “Witch! You killed my son and have the effrontery to show up and shed crocodile tears at his funeral,” Josh’s mother screamed as she yanked and pulled my hair in front of the crowd gathered at his wake. 

“Nne, biko! You’re hurting me. My head!” I cried. My family rushed to my aid, and other people tried to pull her off me. My head was on fire, and before I knew it, I was already bleeding onto my dress from where she’d almost pulled out my braids from their roots. After that incident, I developed a phobia for braids and cut my hair. Nobody would get the chance to assault me that way ever again.

Josh’s mother was vengeful, kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs. She slipped through the barricade of the bodies trying to hold her back, fell to the ground, and rolled the wet mold of earth dug from the graveside. Holding the blob of soil in her hand, she knelt and continued raining insults on me.

“Shameless woman. Who asked you to come here? Did we invite you here? Did my son marry you? You and your family should go back to the hole you crawled out from. Leave me and my family alone to mourn our son. The one you bewitched and killed. It wasn’t enough. You had to kill his grandchild, too. Ewoo! Chukwunonso nnwam oh! Look at what your stubbornness has caused. Love has cost you your life and taken you away from us,” she wailed, her biting words piercing my soul where I knelt, bawling my eyes out.

I cried even harder when I remembered my dad helping me up and my mom covering me with her wrapper as they led me out of Josh’s family home that day. Three years down the line and that memory still haunts me. Of everything that happened that day, I still grieve for not properly saying goodbye to him. And every year, just around the time of his death, I’m reminded of my sins in the cruelest manner. My crime was that I survived that accident and Josh and our baby didn’t. 

After what seemed like ages, and without asking questions, my silent companion handed me a box of tissues. I thanked him, dabbed my eyes, and blew my nose while waiting for my heaving heart to still. When I looked up, I realized he’d driven into the compound, but I couldn’t tell how long ago that was. I turned to him and our eyes met. He held my gaze for the longest time.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked instead, and I nodded. “Can I make you tea and bring it to your place?” 

I sniffed and nodded again, feeling too vulnerable to speak. I knew if I did, I’d lose myself all over again. 

Chibuike alighted from the car, walked around to my side of the door, and pulled it open for me. The weather was misty, but there was no need for an umbrella. He took my bags from me and offered to walk me to my door. I thanked him, and before walking into my apartment; he cleared his throat as if to say something.

Holding the door handle, I offered him a weak smile.

“Thanks for everything today,” I said.

“My pleasure. Do you need anything else with your tea?”

“Nope. Thanks.”

He made a move to leave, then turned right back around. “Can I have your number?”

I hesitated for several seconds and nodded. 

As I rattled off my number to him, I knew I wouldn’t call. I was so distraught by the phone call earlier that I wanted to be left alone.

After saving my number on his phone, he grinned. “I’ll be back with your tea,” he promised, then turned and walked away.

THREE

Two days later, after receiving a series of hilarious stickers, memes, and funny videos from Chibuike on WhatsApp, I agreed to allow him to come around so we could play Scrabble.

I was grateful he didn’t probe me about the incident and was sensitive enough to allow me in my feelings. I was even more delighted that I wouldn’t spend another day cooped up in my house with my thoughts and feelings choking me to death. The rain didn’t make it any easier to do anything refreshing with my time. So when Chibuike showed up at my apartment to honor his promise to engage in my favorite game with a bet that whoever lost would take the other shopping, I jumped with glee.

Call me silly, but to protect my interest, I insisted we sign an agreement on paper before setting up the game in my small but cozy living room. He found it amusing, but not for long. I won five out of the six rounds we played so far. 

After the sixth round, I insisted we took a break before he exploded. It was so amusing to see a grown man like him fuss over losing a few rounds. His facial expressions were super hilarious. It took summoning all my willpower not to ruffle his hair whenever he lost and made a grumpy pout. Every time I pulled a word with a high score, he pulled the cape of his sleeveless ash-colored hoodie, which matched the same brand he wore yesterday, over his face to hide his disbelief. I not only enjoyed watching him act childish, I also admired the way his clothes clung to his body and the ash color complemented his brown skin.

I got some cold drinks and chocolate bars from my refrigerator while he cleared our game station. When I handed him a can of Schweppes, he guzzled it like he’d been dying to have a drink. 

“Okay, take it easy. The Schweppes isn’t running away,” I joked, amused by how he’d gulped his drink. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner to get you a drink if you were that thirsty?”

He crushed the can and kept it aside. “I wasn’t thirsty. I was hot.”

Upon hearing his response, I didn’t know when I said, “Hot ke? It’s drizzling outside, and the weather is cold. How are you feeling hot?”

He chuckled. “Why do you think I’ve only worn short sleeves since we met? Nigeria is not as cold as Canada. I’m used to experiencing cold weather, so the heat makes me uncomfortable. Look around. You’ve locked all your windows.” He said it and looked at me like he knew something I didn’t. “As usual.”

My insides grew warm. Why do I get the feeling from him that he knew more about me than he was letting on? I was about to go insane trying to unravel this man. Instead of allowing my imagination to get the better of me, I decided to be direct. 

I looked at him, sipping my Fayrouz. “As usual? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, fiddling with the discarded tiles on the Scrabble board. “Nothing. I just know you don’t like the cold, so you keep your windows locked and never leave home without your sweater. You also don’t cook so much, hence why there are so many deliveries coming into this compound. I know you love to read at night, but you’re also an early bird who, for some weird reason, has the saddest collection of songs I’ve ever heard. Don’t even get me started on how you’re always looking for something and never seem to remember where you kept your bra.”

Heat spread through my belly as he spoke. It was as if he was reading everything about me from a journal inside his brain. I looked away and covered my face, embarrassed. He scooted over and pried my hands from my face. “Oh, you don’t get to run away from this,” he said, laughing. “You asked, so you must listen.”

I couldn’t look him in the eyes, as I was smiling sheepishly. “You’re killing me. I can’t even look at you, Chibuike. How do you know so much about me? Have you been spying on me?” 

Hissing, he stretched out and leaned back on both his arms, staring at me. “Spying on you? Why would I do that? You didn’t know, but we’ve practically been neighbors for almost two months.”

I didn’t know when I screamed, “Jesus, you’ve been here all this time?”

He nodded, his smile widening as he read the different expressions on my face. My mind immediately zoomed off to recall all the events that had happened in the last two months. The more I thought about it, the paler I got. God, this man would be the death of me.

“How come we’ve never crossed paths, and I’d never seen you until two days ago?” 

“Like I told you, I came home to decompress and take a much-needed mental break. I was suffocating and needed space to breathe. I planned to come home, avoid the world, and just be. Unfortunately, I couldn’t completely relax because I chose a room right across from you. You were a constant distraction, and I couldn’t help but notice everything about you.”

In shock, my eyes grew round. I rushed to my window, and he was right. Until today, I never imagined anyone would use any of the rooms on the ground floor. When the entire family was home, they mostly used the rooms upstairs. Not to add that I never knew a stepson existed.

Still, not wanting to accept his claims without a fight, I made a counter-argument. “I don’t believe you’ve been living here for two months. I haven’t heard the television come on or seen the reflection of any light of any sort. Not even your bedroom lights come on. So, how do I believe you?”

“I didn’t need all those, and I prefer sitting with my thoughts in the dark. But, if you still don’t believe me, ask the security guy, Adams.”

I disputed it immediately. “If Adams knew you were around, he’d have told me. We’re cool.”

He shook his head. “He wouldn’t have. I asked him not to.”

“Why?”

“I was avoiding the world and nosy neighbors, especially since you were a female occupant. I didn’t want anybody snooping around.”

“What changed?”

His gaze stayed on me, his eyes speaking to me again like only he could. “Everything.”

“Amara, you don’t know it, but you’re the best thing that’s happened to me this year. In two months, I’ve had the most fun and the most peaceful moments with myself just listening to you goof around from across the room.” His lips unfurled into a small smile. “I never wanted it to change because I knew you’d become very self-conscious if you discovered I could hear you but listening to you act all clumsy, say weird things, and half-butcher a song to pieces in the name of singing along, filled my heart with warmth.”

“Chibuike–”

“Buikem is fine. But I’d prefer you call me Crescent. Alice, my stepmom, christened me that name when she adopted me. She said my eyes called to her when she visited the orphanage. She’d joke that the way they sparkled when I looked at her made her feel like she was staring at the moon.”

“You have a unique and beautiful name. I’ve never met anyone named Crescent before.”

He smiled. “You’ve met me and girl, I will never forget the first day we met.”

“Oh God, stop it. Please don’t remind me of that.”

He shook his head, trying hard but failing to stop laughing. “What were you thinking, rushing out like that? The fact that you didn’t even realize it made it worth the watch.”

“Crescent!”

He sat upright, made a zip line across his lips, and promised not to talk about it anymore. Still, he couldn’t stop laughing. When he calmed down a bit, I asked him another question I was curious about. “Why did you come to my place?”

“I thought something was wrong because you wouldn’t stop screaming. I was worried.”

It was my turn to laugh. “What? It’s the truth,” he said mischievously, like a toddler caught with his hand inside a cookie jar.

“What made you assume I was in any sort of danger?” 

He rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Because I’ve heard you scream before, but never like that, and more than once. I couldn’t bear it.”

When I burst out laughing again, he grabbed my feet and pulled me close. I yelped, grabbing onto his hoodie to steady myself, which caused him to lean in close, our noses almost touching. When his eyes dropped to my lips, my heartbeat quickened. It was surprising that I’d react this way to him. I dated casually after Josh, but none lasted long. More especially when I told those who asked about my past. But with Chibuike, I caught myself thinking about what his lips on mine would taste like. Our eyes locked, and I realized he was searching my face, reading my expressions, and seeking permission, all without saying a word. 

Overwhelmed by his intensity and my treacherous thoughts, I pulled back, letting go of his hoodie. My room was suddenly hot. I fanned my face while he cleared his throat and combed his hands through his hair. He focused on packing up the scattered scrabble tiles on the floor and putting them back into their pack. While he did that, I discarded our soda cans and the wraps from the chocolate we’d had earlier. 

“Umm, what will you have for dinner?” he suddenly asked, as he packed up the Scrabble board. 

“I’m not sure yet.”

“If you don’t mind, would you go out to dinner with me?”

Thankful for the distraction and the fact that this incident didn’t turn into an awkward moment, a slow, mischievous smile spread across my face. I pulled out the note we’d signed earlier from my khaki shorts. Waving it around and doing a silly victory dance, I reminded him of our bet. “Asking me to dinner won’t let you off the hook to take me on a shopping spree.”

He shook his head, handing me the board and tiles. “Is that a yes?”

“I can never say no to food,” I replied, laughing. “Anywhere there’s food, and I’m invited, I’m going.”

“Okay then. Get dressed, let’s go.”

I picked up my sweater, quickly grabbed my long football socks from my wardrobe, wore my black Crocs, and grabbed my room keys. “I’m ready.”

Waiting by my door, he gave me a once over, amused. “Seriously?” 

“Yes.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, heading outside. 

Following behind him, I refuted his claim. “No, I’m not. I just don’t want you to change your mind about buying me dinner and taking me shopping.”

That had him in stitches in no time.

FOUR

As I dressed up to go shopping with Chibuike, I paused and nervously checked my email for the fifty-seventh time in four days. Seeing no notification from Rangers Corp, I sighed, sank into my bed, and sprawled out. Not willing to allow anything to spoil my mood for the day, I switched to reading and responding to WhatsApp messages from my family and friends. I apologized to those I’ve not been able to hang out with because of the heavy downpour and terrible weather. I ended the messages with a promise to make it up to them.

Hours later, after Chibuike and I had toured the entire H-Medix Mall in Second Avenue, Gwarinpa, visited the Amala spot just beside it to have lunch, and bought two takeaway packs of Abacha and Nkwobi from the native spot around the corner for dinner, I asked him to take us somewhere as a last favor before we headed back home.

Although he agreed to my impromptu request, he probed to know what he was agreeing to and what to expect. I told him to wait until we arrived to find out for himself. After a short drive, we left Gwarinpa Estate, and soon we arrived at the destination. It was a clandestine nature spot Josh and I often visited whenever I was around. So hearing Chibuike joke about ‘feeling like I was about to kidnap him’ as we drove through thick forest-like pathways reminded me of the first time I was here. Hidden from the outside world beneath a row of tall, thick palm trees, and surrounded by rock fountains that gave this spot its heavenly ambiance, this place held my most precious memories with Josh.

Chibuike gasped, his eyes alight in awe as we pulled into the star-shaped parking spot creatively constructed with climbing ivies. “What is this place?” he asked as he parked and turned off his engine. 

“Heaven.”

He looked at me, his eyes searching my face. “Why are we here, Amara?”

“You’ll see,” I said with a smile, dug into my bag, and pulled out my membership card. “Let’s go.”

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” he asked as I led him to the farthest part of the mini-resort. “Everybody is going the other way.”

I chuckled, grabbed his hand, and led him down a short flight of stairs lined with purple hibiscus flowers. We followed the floral sidewalk until we arrived at our destination. I swiped my membership card at the entrance of the small dome-shaped building sitting at the bottom of the stairs. A crescent arc made from purple hibiscus flowers adorned both sides of the thick mahogany doors, creating a paradise-like ambiance even before we entered.

Chibuike clasped a hand over his mouth when we walked in, and he got a good look around. “My God! What is this place?”

“It’s where you’ll truly find peace.” I took his hand, pulling him forward. The purple-lit room had luminescent, twinkling crescent moons hanging from the roof and a galaxy of stars plastered to the ceiling and around the spacious private booths arranged in circular rows. If you viewed it from above, it’d look like you just walked into a circular maze. I led Chibuike to the heart of the maze, stopped by one booth, swiped my card, and invited him in.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, looking around the booth. “Are those just chairs?”

I shook my head. “Josh, my late fiancé, and I called this place ‘heaven’ for a reason. We were obsessed with the tranquil nature of this place and often came here to sit in silence.”

Before he could ask anything, I pulled him to one of the two seats and asked him to sit. I strapped him, showed him what each button on the armrest was for, and propped his seat backward a little for maximum comfort. Then I pressed the on-switch button and asked him to put it in slow mode. He yelped when his seat twirled in a slow circular motion and then burst out laughing when I did. 

I took my seat, repeated the same process, and settled in to enjoy the ride. 

“Amara, this is amazing. How long do we get to stay here?”

Eyes closed and my mind adrift, I replied, “For as long as we want.”

“Really?” 

“Yes.”

“How did you find out about this place?”

“I didn’t. Josh did,” I said and sighed. “We used to come here just for fun and to relax. But when his mother vehemently rejected his engagement to me, we turned this space into our own private therapy and healing room. After he passed, I came here for a while to grieve. This room became my place of solace.”

“You must miss him so much.”

Gripping my armrest, I sniffed. “I do. I miss him every day. How I’ve survived these last three years without him still amazes me. He was my everything.”

He sighed. “We often think we’d break when life throws shit in our faces or pushes us off the deep end. Surprisingly, we always find the courage to fight our demons and pull through the pain, hurt, heartbreak, betrayal, and whatever else we’re dealing with.”

Careful not to sound intrusive, I asked, “Wwhich demons are you dealing with?”

“Is my answer to that question the reason you brought me here? Are we here to unravel the mystery man who’s been lurking around your home for two months, and you didn’t notice?”

“When you say it like that, I feel like a bad person.”

“I was dealing with all four. And you’re not a bad person. That was my poor attempt at a joke.”

I chuckled, but I realized quickly that I was anxious to hear his story. “What happened?”

“My wife of two years filed for a divorce and custody of our six-month-old son, whom she later disclosed during the proceedings, was not mine. A paternity test confirmed her claim, and the court granted her custody. She disappeared soon after that, and she didn’t even grant me the courtesy of saying goodbye to him. That broke my soul.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied, his tone flat. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m no longer angry. I concluded a long time ago that our marriage meant nothing to her from the beginning, or she’d never have done all the things she did. The past eighteen months have been hell for me. I had to leave to save myself before I went completely insane.”

“I wish I could leave,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I’m trapped in the past with no way out. Every year I’m reminded that I don’t deserve to live. That I’m a heartless murderer and a soul-sucking witch who killed the love of my life and our unborn child. How do I move on from that?”

He turned off his switch, unbuckled himself, and walked up to me. “Turn it off,” he commanded. 

I did, waited for my seat to come to a halt, and sat there staring at him. 

“Don’t you ever belittle yourself like that again? Ever.”

“Crescent–”

He stooped and looked me dead in the eye. “Your late fiancé’s death is not on you. And you shouldn’t keep allowing them to use your heart as a punching bag to relieve their pain. You’re hurting too, but you’ll never heal if you don’t stop blaming yourself for his death.”

“That is not true. I don’t blame myself for his death.”

“Yes, you do,” he replied. “It is because of that guilt that you’ve condoned such ill-treatments from his people. You deserve better.”

“You don’t understand.”

“We will never understand why life happens to us the way it does. I spent eighteen months trying to figure out what went wrong and what I could have done better to save my marriage and protect my son. I came up empty. It doesn’t matter how many times I kick myself about it, I’ll never be a father to a son I’ve come to love. Neither can I change the truth that my wife cheated, lied to me, betrayed our vows, and left of her own free accord. In the same way, there’s nothing you could have done to stop Josh’s death.”

“If we hadn’t missed our flight, maybe he’d still be–”

Crescent took my hand. “Amara, give yourself the grace to heal. To live again. To move on. It’s what Josh would want.”

The way he said his name made my eyes fill to the brim. “Crescent–”

He unbuckled my seatbelt, lifted and gathered me in his arms while taking my seat. “It’s okay. Let it out. Let it go. Cry all you want. I’m not leaving your side.”

I bawled my eyes out. Like a bird set free, I felt my soul and spirit come alive as I let go of my pain, guilt, shame, and grief. I poured every broken piece of my soul, the hurtful words, the insults, and my regrets into every tear that slid down my cheeks. 

And he just held me close, his arms tightly wrapped around me.

FIVE

I woke up at mid-morning the next day with puffy eyes, a splitting headache, and the energy of a ninety-year-old. Although I was emotionally exhausted, I felt at peace just lying there and listening to the rain drizzling outside. ‘What was its plan, anyway? To keep falling until eternity?’ I thought to myself. ‘Well, good for it.’ At least I can use the rain as an excuse to lie here all day doing nothing. 

I pulled my teal-green duvet over my head, groaning in pain. The movement made the throbbing in my head even worse. 

I reached for the flask of water Chibuike kept on my bedside when he brought me home last night. Sipping from it, I opened my bedside drawer and took out some mint sweets to revive my taste buds. I didn’t have the energy to get up and brush my teeth just yet, so the sweets would have to do for now while I figured out how to travel from my bed to the bathroom without my body leaving the bed.

Relaxing beneath my duvet, I recalled the events of the previous night. The gentility with which Chibuike had cradled me gave me goosebumps. I shivered when I remembered how he’d trailed lines down my back and whispered words of comfort in my ears. This man had somehow penetrated the deepest layers of my broken soul and soothed it with his words and actions. I felt weightless, alive, and free. Deep down, I knew there was baggage I still carried, but today felt like the start of a new beginning.

A notification on my phone caused me to reach for it. My lock screen showed it was an email notification. Quickly, I checked my phone, and before I knew what was happening; I was flying across the yard and banging on Chibuike’s front door. I was pretty sure the entire estate would have heard my screams by now. He opened the door and without thinking, I flew into his arms, waving my phone, beaming, and shouting, “I got the job!”

He twirled me around while I clung to him, my arms wrapped around his neck. We felt like teenage best friends being silly with each other. When I told him my head was spinning, he stopped and slowly guided me down his body, my arms firmly locked behind his neck. In my excitement, I hadn’t realized he was naked from the waist up or that he’d just freshly showered and smelled like oud, until now. We were standing so close to each other that it was impossible to look away. His arms tightened around my waist as he pulled me even closer. 

I inhaled his scent and my eyes fluttered close. My world stopped spinning as every nerve in my body stood alert and focused on this man whose mission, I’ve concluded, was to be my undoing. His arms moved from my waist and hovered over my ass. My eyes snapped open, and I caught his eyes, asking permission. I bit my lips in response, and my breath hitched when he gently kneaded my ass. Holding his gaze, I whispered, “Crescent.”

His eyes came alive. “Amara, when you say my name like that, you make me want to do things to you that I’ve only imagined.”

My words caught in my throat, and we stood like that, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. With each hard, drawn breath, I felt my nipples pucker and harden, the treacherous twinnies straining against my sleeveless, thin night top for attention. Feeling self-conscious, I tried to pull away, but he caught on quickly. 

“Please. Stay,” he begged, pulled me to him, and buried his head in the crook of my neck, rubbing his nose against my skin. I gasped, feeling my body come alive. My skin burned where his body met mine, and I wanted nothing more than to feel the taste of his lips on mine.

“Crescent, if I stay, I’d make some very bad decisions I may regret tomorrow.”

“You won’t. I won’t let you. You’re not ready.”

“What if we can’t stop ourselves?”

“I don’t break my promises.”

“I should go.”

“I’m dying to kiss you.”

He looked into my eyes, and my heart skipped a beat–no, three beats and did backflips like a pro. He wanted me. This beautiful man, despite learning about my past, hasn’t judged or isolated me like most men I met after Josh did. In his eyes, I saw his passion burning with an intensity that scared me, yet made me feel in control, like he was asking me to lead, and he’d follow. I bit my lips and ran my free hands through his still-wet hair and across his jaws. I loved how his stubble grazed my palm, and his eyes fluttered close when I gently placed a hand on his chest.

He caught it and held it there. 

“Amara, I know life has been cruel, and you’re edgy and scared. I know you’re still hurting and healing. So, I’m not here to rush you. I’m not here to make demands.

“You’ve only known me for a week, but I’ve had two months to fall in love with every part of you without even meeting you. I’ve felt your pain from across the room and laughed at your silly escapades. I’ve listened to your silent snore and stared in wonder when you cursed while watching a movie. Amara, I didn’t know what I was searching for when I left Canada or what I’d find when I returned to Nigeria, but I followed my heart, came home, and found you.” He caressed the angle of my jaw gently, gazing into my eyes.

“You were my therapy. My healing. So, I won’t dare to rush you or make demands. I’ll wait for you to let me in. Like the soft trickles of rain, I’ll quietly wait for you to open the doors of your heart and reach for me, so I can love you as you deserve and watch you bloom again.” His tone dipped an octave, making my stomach flutter. For the first time since Josh, I’ve started feeling again. It excited and scared me at the same time.

“If you let me, I’ll cherish and love you in a way that’ll make Josh proud.”

My eyes shone with tears and admiration for this man. It was as if Josh himself stood before me in the flesh. Chibuike’s sensitivity, compassion, and warmth reminded me of the reason I fell in love with Josh. “What took you so long to find me?”

“You and I are here now. That’s what matters.”

Smiling through my tears, I pulled him close. “Kiss me already.”

He chuckled, grabbed my ass, and lifted me off the ground. “Gladly.

Author’s Bio

Obianuju Jane Ebubeoha also known as O.J. Ebubeoha is a Nigerian author, storyteller, writer, creative, and hardcore romantic whose stories have been published online and in magazines. She’s an avid reader, a nature lover, and a ray of sunshine who derives joy from sharing relatable stories that evoke relatable human emotions in her readers. She spins heart-racing sensual, romance suspense stories readers will enjoy with a naughty glint in their eyes.  

O.J Ebubeoha also writes non-African romance suspense stories using the pen name Anne J. Franklin. Some of her published works are: Ignited Passions, Mistletoe Magic Christmas Series, and Through Hell With You.

The paperback and eBook copies of her books are available on, Amazon, Kobo, Roving heights Bookstore, Book peddler Bookstore, Mylibribooks, Bambooks, Selar, and PabPub.

Website & Social handles:

Instagram: @author_ojebubeoha 

Twitter: @EbubeohaJ 

TikTok: @author_ojebubeoha

Email: authorojebubeoha@gmail.com

Linktree: https://linktr.ee/O.JEbubeoha