I froze. That tone… had never belonged to Ifunwei. It was as if someone else was speaking from beyond the door, someone who was not human. I slowly stepped back, my heart pounding in my chest.
I said nothing to her that evening. She emerged from the bathroom just as radiant, with red eyes and a calm face. She smiled faintly and went to the bedroom, where she lay down without another word.
But that night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering who the woman beside me was. What was she hiding?
The next day, I left for work early. But instead of going to the office, I stopped by my grandparents’ village. There lived Aunt Niculina, a woman who had seen much in life, known throughout the area as a “healer” — a woman who understood signs, spells, and curses.
I told her everything. She didn’t blink. She just nodded.
— She’s not human, boy. If water burns her, if rain frightens her… she comes from a lineage of spirits. It’s something that has passed from mother to daughter.
— What can I do? I asked desperately.
— You must break her secret. Catch her in the middle of the water, but it must not be her will. Only then will her true face be revealed.
I left there with a bottle of holy water and a plan.
That evening, Ifunwa was in the kitchen. She was just bending down towards the cupboard when, with my heart trembling, I sprinkled her with the water from the bottle.
She screamed. A sharp, foreign shriek. She fell to her knees, and her skin — perfect, smooth skin — began to crack. Not like it was burned, but like a clay mask crumbling.
Beneath it, there was no flesh. There was a strange, liquid light, like molten gold. And her eyes — her eyes had turned white, devoid of iris, devoid of life.
— You were wrong, — she hissed. — Now you know. But you cannot tell anyone.
I took her by the arm, trembling, and recited a prayer that my aunt had given me. The words burned my tongue, but they illuminated the room. Ifunwa writhed, then collapsed on the floor, unconscious.
When she woke up, she was not the same. She had no memories. She looked at me like a lost child. And from that cold, beautiful body, nothing terrifying emanated anymore.
I prayed for nights on end that I had not lost the woman I had fallen in love with. And, in a way, I had not lost her.
But I never joked with water again.
And every evening, I light a candle and thank the Almighty that the truth, no matter how hard it may be, is better than a shiny lie.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or for how characters are portrayed and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
