The burnt woman remained on her knees, trêmbling, her head bowed low.
Nkoli stared at her for a long moment, her heart racing, confusion giving way to a strange familiarity she could no longer ignore.
“Lift your face,” Nkoli said, her voice cold.
Slowly… paknfully… the woman raised her head.
And in that instant, recognition struck like thunder.
Nkoli staggered back.
“No…” she whispered.
“No… it can’t be you.”
It was her sister-in-law.
The same woman who had slãpped her.
The same woman who had called her a pig.
The same woman who had watched her child dle without lifting a finger.
Only now, her face was ruined by fire.
Tears poured from the woman’s burnt eyes as she crawled closer.
“I have sinned against you,” she crïed. “Please forgive me. Everything has fallen apart. Nothing is working anymore. Come with me… please. Forgive everyone. Let us return to our normal lives.”
Her words sounded desperate. Broken.
But Nkoli felt no pity.
Ràge surged through her veins — old pãin reopening wounds she had büried too deep.
“Get out of my house,” Nkoli snapped, her voice shaking with anger.
“Get out now, or I will call the security!”
The woman grabbed Nkoli’s leg, clinging tightly.
“Please! I beg you! Forgive me! Just come with me—”
Nkoli pushed her away violently.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed.
She picked up her phone and dialed the estate security.
Within minutes, guards arrived. The woman cried, screamed, begged — but Nkoli didn’t look back.
“Take her away,” Nkoli ordered.
“And never let her step into this estate again.”
They drãggëd the burnt woman out as she crïed her name into the night.
Nkoli slammed the door shut.
Her knees buckled.
She grabbed her son’s hand and led him inside. The moment the door closed, her strength failed her. She sank onto the couch and burst into ttears — loud, paìnful sobs that shook her entire body.
Her son climbed onto her lap and wiped her teãrs with his small hands.
“Mummy… please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
She held him tightly, crying into his shoulder.
That night, sleep came late.
The next morning, heavy knocks thundered on the door.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Nkoli woke up irritated, exhausted, anger already rising.
“Who is disturbing my peace this early?!” she shouted as she stormed to the door.
She flung it open.
And froze.
Standing before her was a strange gathering.
A slim-looking man sat silently in a wheelchair, his eyes hollow and lifeless.
Beside him stood the same burnt woman from the previous night — her head bowed.
Next to her was an elderly woman dressed in rags, slapping her own cheeks repeatedly while laughing and crying at the same time.
And behind them stood a man of God — his robe clean, Bible tightly clutched in his hand, eyes serious and unreadable.
Nkoli’s heart dropped.
Whatever was standing before her…
Was not normal.
And somehow — deep inside, she knew this was only the beginning.
_____
Nkoli stood frozen at the doorway, her fingers gripping the door handle so tightly her knuckles turned white.
None of them spoke at first.
The morning breeze blew softly, yet the air around them felt heavy — thick with sorrow, madness, and something darker.
The elderly woman in rags suddenly slapped herself again and burst into loud laughter.
“Hehehe… hehehe…”
“Fire! Fire everywhere!” she cried, then slapped her cheeks harder.
Nkoli’s heart pounded.
“What is all this?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “Why are you people at my house?”
The man of God stepped forward calmly, lifting the Bible in his hand.
“My daughter,” he said gently, “we are not here to trouble you. We are here because peace cannot return to this family until forgiveness is spoken.”
Nkoli laughed bitterly.
“Peace?” she scoffed. “Where was peace when my child was dying? Where was peace when I was dragged like an animal? Where was peace when my son was büried?”
The man in the wheelchair shifted slightly. His legs were lifeless, wrapped in a thin cloth. Slowly, he raised his face.
Nkoli’s breath caught.
It was her husband.
Thinner.
Broken.
Defeated.
His eyes were hollow, sunken, filled with regret and fear.
“Nko—” he tried to speak, but his voice failed him.
Nkoli staggered back.
“You?” she whispered. “So you finally remembered the way to my house?”
Teãrs rolled down his cheeks.
“I have paid,” he said weakly. “I have paid for everything.”
The burnt woman stepped forward and fell flat on her face.
“Please forgive us!” she crïed. “Since that day, nothing has worked. Fire destroyed my shop. I was inside. This…” she gestured weakly to her face, “…is what remains.”
The elderly woman screamed again.
“She sent me away!” she laughed and cried. “Madness! Madness followed me like shadow!”
Nkoli’s heart trêmbled, but her face remained hard.
“And my son?” Nkoli asked quietly. “Did mãdness follow my child back from the grave?”
Silence.
The man of God lowered his head.
“After you prayed for karma,” he said softly, “judgment did not come as death… it came as consequence.”
Nkoli’s husband spoke again, his voice shaking.
“I collapsed at work. My spine was damaged. The doctors said I will never walk again. I tried my possible best to fix my spinal cord, but each surgeries always failed I will go for another and the other until I run out of fun. Worst still the young wife my parents married for me burnt my travel document and elope with my money, leaving me to my fate, some of my friends put funds together and sent me back to Nigeria empty handed, since I came I've been looking for you everywhere, things had been so rough and tough for my family and I, each time we go to any church we will be direct to come look for you. We have been searching for you for the past six months. Untill my sister run into you some days back on your way from the market and decided to secretly follow to know where you stay” He swallowed hard. “The money you received… it was all I had left. I sent it to you, I know it can never write my wrongs. Am sorry Nk please forgive”
Nkoli’s legs weakened.
“So you remembered me only when punishment arrived,” she said coldly.
He nodded, shãme flooding his face.
“We came to beg you,” the man of God said. “Forgive them, so healing may begin.”
Nkoli felt her chest tighten. Images flooded her mind — her son’s empty bed, the morgue, the slap, the insults, the eviction.
She looked at her remaining son standing behind her.
Then she spoke.
“I forgive no one who remembers love only when karma knocks.”
She stepped back and closed the door halfway.
“But hear this,” she added. “I did not ask for destruction. I asked for justice.”
Her husband broke down completely.
“Please…” he sobbed.
Nkoli shook her head.
“Leave,” she said firmly. “Take your consequences with you.”
She shut the door completely.
Inside the house, her son hugged her tightly.
“Mummy… are they bad people?” he asked softly.
She kissed his forehead, tears in her eyes.
“They made bad choices,” she replied. “And choices have prices.”
Outside, the cries continued.
Inside, Nkoli finally breathed.
But deep in her heart, she knew—
Karma had only begun its work.
TO BE CONTINUED…
What should Nkoli do now?
Grace Ochiba
Nkoli stared at her for a long moment, her heart racing, confusion giving way to a strange familiarity she could no longer ignore.
“Lift your face,” Nkoli said, her voice cold.
Slowly… paknfully… the woman raised her head.
And in that instant, recognition struck like thunder.
Nkoli staggered back.
“No…” she whispered.
“No… it can’t be you.”
It was her sister-in-law.
The same woman who had slãpped her.
The same woman who had called her a pig.
The same woman who had watched her child dle without lifting a finger.
Only now, her face was ruined by fire.
Tears poured from the woman’s burnt eyes as she crawled closer.
“I have sinned against you,” she crïed. “Please forgive me. Everything has fallen apart. Nothing is working anymore. Come with me… please. Forgive everyone. Let us return to our normal lives.”
Her words sounded desperate. Broken.
But Nkoli felt no pity.
Ràge surged through her veins — old pãin reopening wounds she had büried too deep.
“Get out of my house,” Nkoli snapped, her voice shaking with anger.
“Get out now, or I will call the security!”
The woman grabbed Nkoli’s leg, clinging tightly.
“Please! I beg you! Forgive me! Just come with me—”
Nkoli pushed her away violently.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed.
She picked up her phone and dialed the estate security.
Within minutes, guards arrived. The woman cried, screamed, begged — but Nkoli didn’t look back.
“Take her away,” Nkoli ordered.
“And never let her step into this estate again.”
They drãggëd the burnt woman out as she crïed her name into the night.
Nkoli slammed the door shut.
Her knees buckled.
She grabbed her son’s hand and led him inside. The moment the door closed, her strength failed her. She sank onto the couch and burst into ttears — loud, paìnful sobs that shook her entire body.
Her son climbed onto her lap and wiped her teãrs with his small hands.
“Mummy… please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
She held him tightly, crying into his shoulder.
That night, sleep came late.
The next morning, heavy knocks thundered on the door.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Nkoli woke up irritated, exhausted, anger already rising.
“Who is disturbing my peace this early?!” she shouted as she stormed to the door.
She flung it open.
And froze.
Standing before her was a strange gathering.
A slim-looking man sat silently in a wheelchair, his eyes hollow and lifeless.
Beside him stood the same burnt woman from the previous night — her head bowed.
Next to her was an elderly woman dressed in rags, slapping her own cheeks repeatedly while laughing and crying at the same time.
And behind them stood a man of God — his robe clean, Bible tightly clutched in his hand, eyes serious and unreadable.
Nkoli’s heart dropped.
Whatever was standing before her…
Was not normal.
And somehow — deep inside, she knew this was only the beginning.
_____
Nkoli stood frozen at the doorway, her fingers gripping the door handle so tightly her knuckles turned white.
None of them spoke at first.
The morning breeze blew softly, yet the air around them felt heavy — thick with sorrow, madness, and something darker.
The elderly woman in rags suddenly slapped herself again and burst into loud laughter.
“Hehehe… hehehe…”
“Fire! Fire everywhere!” she cried, then slapped her cheeks harder.
Nkoli’s heart pounded.
“What is all this?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “Why are you people at my house?”
The man of God stepped forward calmly, lifting the Bible in his hand.
“My daughter,” he said gently, “we are not here to trouble you. We are here because peace cannot return to this family until forgiveness is spoken.”
Nkoli laughed bitterly.
“Peace?” she scoffed. “Where was peace when my child was dying? Where was peace when I was dragged like an animal? Where was peace when my son was büried?”
The man in the wheelchair shifted slightly. His legs were lifeless, wrapped in a thin cloth. Slowly, he raised his face.
Nkoli’s breath caught.
It was her husband.
Thinner.
Broken.
Defeated.
His eyes were hollow, sunken, filled with regret and fear.
“Nko—” he tried to speak, but his voice failed him.
Nkoli staggered back.
“You?” she whispered. “So you finally remembered the way to my house?”
Teãrs rolled down his cheeks.
“I have paid,” he said weakly. “I have paid for everything.”
The burnt woman stepped forward and fell flat on her face.
“Please forgive us!” she crïed. “Since that day, nothing has worked. Fire destroyed my shop. I was inside. This…” she gestured weakly to her face, “…is what remains.”
The elderly woman screamed again.
“She sent me away!” she laughed and cried. “Madness! Madness followed me like shadow!”
Nkoli’s heart trêmbled, but her face remained hard.
“And my son?” Nkoli asked quietly. “Did mãdness follow my child back from the grave?”
Silence.
The man of God lowered his head.
“After you prayed for karma,” he said softly, “judgment did not come as death… it came as consequence.”
Nkoli’s husband spoke again, his voice shaking.
“I collapsed at work. My spine was damaged. The doctors said I will never walk again. I tried my possible best to fix my spinal cord, but each surgeries always failed I will go for another and the other until I run out of fun. Worst still the young wife my parents married for me burnt my travel document and elope with my money, leaving me to my fate, some of my friends put funds together and sent me back to Nigeria empty handed, since I came I've been looking for you everywhere, things had been so rough and tough for my family and I, each time we go to any church we will be direct to come look for you. We have been searching for you for the past six months. Untill my sister run into you some days back on your way from the market and decided to secretly follow to know where you stay” He swallowed hard. “The money you received… it was all I had left. I sent it to you, I know it can never write my wrongs. Am sorry Nk please forgive”
Nkoli’s legs weakened.
“So you remembered me only when punishment arrived,” she said coldly.
He nodded, shãme flooding his face.
“We came to beg you,” the man of God said. “Forgive them, so healing may begin.”
Nkoli felt her chest tighten. Images flooded her mind — her son’s empty bed, the morgue, the slap, the insults, the eviction.
She looked at her remaining son standing behind her.
Then she spoke.
“I forgive no one who remembers love only when karma knocks.”
She stepped back and closed the door halfway.
“But hear this,” she added. “I did not ask for destruction. I asked for justice.”
Her husband broke down completely.
“Please…” he sobbed.
Nkoli shook her head.
“Leave,” she said firmly. “Take your consequences with you.”
She shut the door completely.
Inside the house, her son hugged her tightly.
“Mummy… are they bad people?” he asked softly.
She kissed his forehead, tears in her eyes.
“They made bad choices,” she replied. “And choices have prices.”
Outside, the cries continued.
Inside, Nkoli finally breathed.
But deep in her heart, she knew—
Karma had only begun its work.
TO BE CONTINUED…
What should Nkoli do now?
Grace Ochiba
Topic Live
