Evil Mother In Law Refused To Leave Son Alone.. If Only They Knew..
On the day Odi married Guinea in Port Harcourt, the sun shone with an uneasy glow. The church overflowed with guests, the choir’s melodies soared, but a strange tension lingered, as if joy itself hesitated. Mama Odi, a short, fair woman with piercing eyes, sat among the crowd. A widow who raised Odi alone through roadside food sales and tireless sewing, she called him her heartbeat, her survival. “If I lose Odi, I lose my reason to breathe,” she’d say. To her, Guinea wasn’t a daughter-in-law but a rival stealing her son.
At the reception, Mama Odi refused to leave the couple’s table, declaring herself “co-celebrant” to the MC. “Without me, there’d be no groom,” she said. Guests laughed, thinking it a jest, but Guinea’s smile faltered. When the photographer posed Odi and Guinea, Mama Odi inserted herself between them. The laughter continued, but Guinea sensed a shadow over her new life.
The couple settled into a two-bedroom apartment, adorned with Guinea’s nude curtains and blue cushions. A wedding photo of Odi whispering to her hung proudly. But peace shattered when Mama Odi arrived two days after their Calabar honeymoon, claiming a short visit. She stayed, rearranging the kitchen, tossing Guinea’s spices, and calling herself “landlord’s mother.” She invaded their mornings, insisting on prayers, criticizing Guinea’s cooking—“Too much salt, you’ll kill my son!”—and guilting Odi when he defended his wife. “You’ve changed because of her,” she’d sigh, planting doubts.
Guinea endured, but Mama Odi’s control tightened. She locked the kitchen, rewashed Odi’s clothes, and accused Guinea of malice. One day, Guinea made Odi’s favorite bitterleaf soup. As he savored it, Mama Odi coughed dramatically, claiming Guinea added “something” to charm him. Odi, torn, left the table. That night, Guinea cried silently in the bathroom, her marriage fraying. Odi, swayed by his mother’s guilt, began seeing Guinea as the problem. When she sought her mother’s advice, she heard, “Be patient, she’ll leave.” But Mama Odi didn’t.
Strange events followed. Guinea’s wedding ring vanished, later found buried in a rice bag. Mama Odi accused her of stealing 50,000 naira. Odi, exasperated, scolded Guinea, his trust eroding. A neighbor, Mama Peace, warned Guinea that Mama Odi was spreading lies about her stealing Odi’s inheritance and carrying a “spiritual curse.” Then, Guinea found a dusty death certificate in Mama Odi’s wardrobe, listing Benjamin Okosa as Odi’s father, who died in 1989—two years before Odi’s birth. Mama Odi always spoke of her late husband as Sunday.
Suspicious, Guinea visited the local registry. The clerk confirmed Benjamin died childless, his wife deceased before him. Guinea’s mind reeled. At home, she confronted Odi, but Mama Odi overheard, accusing Guinea of spying. Odi, defensive, dismissed her findings. Desperate, Guinea visited Auntie Grace, a family friend, who revealed Mama Odi adopted Odi after Benjamin’s death, fearing shame as a barren widow. She hid the truth to secure Odi’s love and her identity.
Guinea confronted Mama Odi: “I know Odi’s adopted. Tell him the truth.” Mama Odi laughed bitterly, admitting her fear of losing him. Unknown to them, Odi overheard. “Is it true?” he asked, voice breaking. Mama Odi confessed, tears streaming: “I took you from an orphanage. I was afraid you’d reject me.” Odi, shattered, walked out, leaving her sobbing.
The house fell silent. Mama Odi withdrew, Odi avoided both women. Guinea, caught between them, urged Odi to forgive: “Blood doesn’t make love. Choices do.” He knelt before his mother, saying, “You’re still my mother. I forgive you.” Healing began. Mama Odi stepped back, joining church fellowship. Guinea and Odi rekindled their bond. When Guinea announced her pregnancy, Mama Odi wept, embraced by Guinea: “God’s giving you a second chance.”
Their son, Peace Odi Okosa, was born, his name a testament to their restored harmony. Mama Odi, holding him, whispered, “If I’d known love could survive truth, I wouldn’t have hidden it.” The house filled with laughter, no longer haunted by secrets, proving love, when honest, can mend even the deepest wounds.
