Episode 1

My name is Adaora. I was born beautiful. Not just pretty, but with that rare, natural beauty that made people stop in their tracks. Strangers stared at me, and old women called me “nwanyi oma” and prayed that I would marry a king. But beauty can be both a blessing and a curse. Mine attracted attention I didn’t want. One of those “admirers” tried to make me his, by force. I fought back. He threw acid in my face. I was sixteen. And from that day on, I ceased to exist to the world.

What I was left with weren’t just physical scars: it was fear, shame, and silence. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t look at people. I wore veils, hid in the shadows, and watched my life shrink around me like a burning curtain. My mother cried every night. My father couldn’t bear to look at me. I heard them whisper about sending me to a village where “no one would look at me straight.”

Then Tobe arrived.

He was blind. From birth. He literally entered my life one rainy day at the clinic where I volunteered. He bumped into me, apologized in the most polite voice I’d ever heard, and smiled as if he could see into my soul. He never once asked me what I looked like. He didn’t flinch when my hand brushed against his. He never once asked me why I wore a scarf at home.

We became friends. Then, closer. Then one day, he said to me, “Adaora, your voice makes the world feel warm. I want to marry you.” And I froze. I hadn’t been called beautiful in years, but this man, this kind blind man, was offering me the one thing I thought I’d never have again: love.

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

We were happy. Surprisingly happy. Tobe was kind, funny, brilliant. We cooked together, we read together, and sometimes he’d catch me laughing so hard I forgot I was broken. He’d touch my face with his fingers and say, “You’re beautiful.” And I believed him, because he’d never seen the truth.

Until the day his cousin gave me the news.

There was a surgeon. A specialist. A man who had successfully restored sight to two other blind patients. The miracle we never dared hope for suddenly became possible. Tobe was thrilled. His voice trembled with joy. He said, “If it works, the first thing I want to see is you.”

My heart sank.

Because I knew what I would see.

Not the woman he imagined. Not the voice he fell in love with. But the truth. The twisted, burned reality. The woman no one else could look at without shuddering.

I tried to dissuade him. I told him it was risky. He said it was worth it. I asked, “What if it changes things?” He laughed and said, “Adaora, nothing could change how I feel about you.”

But he didn’t know.

I didn’t know that every day I prayed he’d never ask to see me. That my entire marriage was built on the one lie I never had the courage to say out loud: that I was too afraid he’d run away.

Surgery is now scheduled for next week.

And I have to make a decision:

Stay and let him see the face I’ve hidden from him for three years…

Or disappear before the truth comes.

I married a blind man who didn’t know he was disfigured; now he wants surgery to see me.

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 sleptit 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.