Episode 1

My name is Adaora.
I came into this world blessed with rare beauty — the kind that made people turn their heads, the kind strangers whispered about in markets, calling me nwanyi oma and wishing me a future fit for royalty. But beauty can be a double-edged sword. Mine drew the attention of someone whose obsession turned cruel.

He wanted me. I refused. He tried to take me by force.
When I fought back, he threw acid on my face. I was sixteen. That moment stole more than my looks — it stole my confidence, my voice, my place in the world.

From then on, I hid.
Veils became my shield. Shadows became my home. My reflection was my enemy. My mother wept when she thought I couldn’t hear; my father could barely meet my eyes. I overheard them talking about sending me far away, “where no one would stare.”

And then came Tobe.
He’d been blind since birth. We met by accident at the clinic where I volunteered. On a rainy afternoon, he bumped into me, apologized with the gentlest voice I’d ever heard, and smiled as though he could see the person beneath my scars.

He never asked about my face.
Never flinched when our hands touched.
Never questioned the scarf I wore, even inside my own home.

Friendship turned into something deeper. One day he said,

“Adaora, your voice makes the world feel warm. I want to marry you.”

I froze. I hadn’t been called beautiful in years, but this man — this kind, blind man — was offering me love without conditions.

I told him I wasn’t what he thought.
He said, “I don’t care how you look. I know who you are.”
So I married him.

We were happy — truly happy. We cooked side by side, read books aloud together, and laughed until I forgot I was “broken.” He would trace my face with his fingertips and whisper, “You are beautiful.” And I believed him… because he’d never seen the truth.

Until his cousin arrived with news.

A surgeon. A specialist. A man who had restored sight to two patients like him.
Tobe’s excitement was palpable. His voice shook when he said,

“If it works, the first thing I want to see is you.”

And my heart clenched.
Because the woman he’d see wouldn’t match the voice he loved. She wouldn’t be the image he’d built in his mind. He would see the burns, the twisted skin, the face that made strangers look away.

I tried to dissuade him — told him it was risky.
He just smiled and said, “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.”

But he didn’t know.
He didn’t know that every day I prayed he’d never want to see me. That my marriage was built on one silent truth: I was terrified of him knowing.

The surgery is set for next week.
Now I have to decide:
Stay… and let him see the face I’ve hidden for three years.
Or leave… before he learns the truth.

Episode 2

The week before the surgery was like a slow death. Every smile I gave Tobe was a mask. Every meal I cooked, every story I read to him, every kiss I placed on his forehead as he slept—it all felt like a goodbye I couldn’t say out loud. He was excited, hopeful, alive in a way I hadn’t seen before. “Adaora,” he said one night, “imagine… looking into your eyes for the first time. You’re everything I want to see.” And my heart silently broke in my chest.

He didn’t know. And he had no reason to suspect. In our three years of marriage, I had learned to hide behind love. I wore soft scarves even in bed. I kept the lights dim. I played with shadows. I told him I was shy. He said I respected him. But he never saw the woman behind the veil.

Now the veil was about to fall.

The day of the surgery arrived. I stood by her side in the hospital, holding her hand like it was the last rope tying me to sanity. She kissed my palm and said, “No matter what happens, you’re the first thing I want to see.”

I couldn’t answer.

They brought him in a wheelchair.

I stayed.

Pacing back and forth.

Praying.

Crying.

And planning my escape.

I went home and wrote him a letter. In it, I told him everything: how I’d burned out, how I never expected to find love again, how he’d unwittingly saved me, and how terrified I was that if he saw me, he’d fall out of love. I told him I was sorry. I told him I loved him. And I said goodbye.

I left the letter next to his pillow, packed a small suitcase, and left the house.

I didn’t even know where I was going.

Just far away.

Far from the moment when he would open his eyes and realize that I was never the woman he imagined.

But fate didn’t let me escape for long.

Three days later, I received a call from his cousin.

“Adaora,” he said, “is out of surgery. She’s fine. She can see.”

I swallowed with difficulty.

“And he asks for you. Again and again.”

I almost hung up.

But my legs carried me back to the hospital.

My heart was beating fast.

My hands were shaking.

I slowly entered the room.

Tobe was sitting upright.

With eyes wide open.

Looking around: the sunlight, the curtains, the flowers.

Then his eyes fell on me.

He stared at me.

For what seemed like an eternity.

He didn’t blink.

I didn’t smile.

I didn’t speak.

I froze.

The scars on my face felt like fire. I gasped.

Then he stood up.

And he walked towards me.

His eyes filled with tears.

He gently caressed my face.

And he whispered, “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

I broke down.

I fell to my knees and cried like a child.

He met me, hugged me, kissed my scars, touched every inch of what I had hidden from him.

“Now I see you,” he said. “And I still choose you.”

THE FINAL LESSON

True love isn’t blind; it sees all and remains anyway. Adaora believed her scars made her unlovable, but what she didn’t know was that the man who loved her never fell in love with her skin, but with her soul. In a world obsessed with appearances, we often forget that the most beautiful part of us isn’t visible to the naked eye. A love like Tobe’s is rare. If you find it, fight for it, scars and all.