Amaka stood by the window in Ebuka's apartment, staring at the street below like she could somehow piece her life back together by watching traffic. Her fingers trembled around the cup of tea she wasn't even drinking.
She hadn't slept. Not a wink. Not after what happened at the hospital.
Tochi had been alive. Breathing. Staring at her with eyes that still held the same depth she used to drown in. And yet, the man she buried wasn't a dream. She remembered the funeral. She remembered the body. She remembered breaking.
"How are you feeling?" Ebuka's voice snapped her out of her spiral.
Amaka turned to see him walking in, freshly shaved, suit pressed like it was just another Monday. He looked too calm for a man whose wedding turned into a ghost story.
"I'm not fine, Ebuka. I don't even know what's real anymore."
He walked over, gently taking the cup from her hand. "I know this is hard. But we need to be careful. The man you saw… it might not be Tochi."
"You think I don't know my husband?" she snapped, then caught herself. "Sorry. I'm just… tired."
There was a pause, then he said, "The hospital said he left this morning. No ID, no one knows where he went."
Of course. Just like Tochi. In and out like a whisper.
Amaka sank into the couch. "What if he wants revenge? What if he thinks I moved on too fast?"
Ebuka stayed silent.
Then her phone buzzed.
One new message.
No name. Just a number she didn't recognize
You never buried Tochi. You buried the wrong man.
Later that evening, she went back to her apartment alone. She needed space. Time. Answers. Her neighbors stared at her like she was a puzzle they were trying to figure out. Word of her wedding crash had spread like wildfire.
As she unlocked her door, she noticed something strange.
The doormat was slightly shifted.
She never moved it.
Heart pounding, Amaka stepped inside, locking the door behind her.
Her living room looked normal. The curtains still drawn. Shoes still by the door.
But on her coffee table was a white envelope.
No stamp. No name. Just placed there, like a gift.
She picked it up with trembling fingers and opened it.
Inside was a photo.
A photo of her… taken that same morning. Standing by Ebuka's window, holding the cup of tea.
She dropped it instantly.
There was only one sentence scrawled behind the photo in red ink:
"I never died, Amaka. You just stopped looking."
Her hands flew to her mouth.
Someone had been inside the house.
Someone had taken that photo today.
She wasn't just being watched.
She was being hunted.
Amaka didn't sleep that night either.
She had locked every door, every window, drawn every curtain and left all the lights on. Still, she felt the walls watching her. Like the very air in the house had eyes.
She sat on the floor, legs pulled to her chest, staring at the envelope and photo again.
The handwriting was familiar. The kind that always had a certain flair, like the person was trying to make a statement even on paper.
It was Tochi's handwriting.
Or someone who knew it well enough to copy it perfectly.
Her phone buzzed again.
Did you like the photo?"
She didn't reply.
The screen started ringing. Unknown number.
She froze.
Let it ring.
It stopped.
A second later, another message
"Why are you afraid, Amaka? Afraid I'll tell you what really happened that night?"
Her heart stopped.
What night?
She had lived through so many bad nights since Tochi's "death," but only one stood out. The night the police called her, saying they had found a body in a burning car. They claimed the fire made it hard to identify, but there was a wedding ring. His wedding ring.
And she had believed them.
She stood abruptly, her breathing sharp. "This is madness," she whispered.
Then came the knock.
Sharp. Measured. Right at her front door.
She froze.
Another knock. This time softer.
She tiptoed toward the door and peered through the peephole.
No one.
But something was on the floor.
She opened the door slowly and picked it up.
Another envelope.
Inside it… a flash drive.
No note. No explanation.
Her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped it. She slammed the door shut, turned all the bolts and plugged the flash drive into her laptop.
There was only one video file.
She hesitated, then clicked play.
The screen lit up.
It was security camera footage. Grainy but clear.
A hospital hallway.
A man walked into the frame.
She gasped.
Tochi.
Same build. Same walk. Same scar on the neck he had gotten back in uni.
He walked up to a nurse. Spoke to her. The nurse nodded and pointed toward a door.
Tochi turned to walk there, but just before he disappeared from the frame…
He looked straight at the camera.
Right at her.
And smiled.
Amaka slammed the laptop shut.
Her whole body was shaking now.
She was being watched. Not just in real life. But online. Digitally. From every angle.
The flash drive. The envelope. The photo. The text. The knock.
This wasn't coincidence.
This was a game.
And someone was moving all the pieces.