LOVE IS BLIND (EPISODE 2)

Hello my beloved once, is a pleasure to engage back in the continuity of the past story which I made before, i wouldn't have continued with this story but just that I hate to start up what I can't finish, due to the controversial comment on the episode 1 review so i decided not to continue but never the less, i still say nothing spoil.

source
(this pictures inside this thumbnail was gotten and download from one)

When the priest inquired again, “Are you ready?” he whispered, “Yes. Go ahead.”

The knife drove in.

Blood stained the ground.

A bag appeared immediately before him, with fear Richard slowly moved back and frontwards again

Richard grasped the package with shaking hands. His name, "RICHARD OBI," was prominently displayed on the box. Inside was the iPhone 16—sleek and shiny, so attractive that it felt like it was worth sacrificing everything for. He paused for a moment, admiring his reflection in the dark screen, filled with a sense of invincibility and rejuvenation. Eagerly, he texted Precious: “Come over. I got your phone.”

She replied within minutes: “On my way.” When she entered his room later that evening, she commanded the space like royalty. Her face brightened at the sight of the phone on the bed, and she rushed over, cradling it as if it were a treasured toy. “Oh my God, Baby! You really did it!”

He smiled faintly. “I told you I would.” She kissed him passionately, and in that moment, all his guilt vanished—the violence and terror faded away under her kiss, her touch numbing his conscience. They spent the night taking selfies with the new phone, decorating their posts with hearts and kisses, as if she hadn’t threatened to leave him just days before.

But at 1 a.m., Richard jolted awake with a scream. He had dreamt of his mother standing by his window, her face pale and her eyes hollow, whispering, “You did this to me.” Sitting up drenched in sweat, he noticed Precious stirring beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “bad dream.” However, the nightmares intensified each night.

His mother appeared closer each time—first at the window, then by the bed, and eventually inside the room, silently watching him, her neck marked by bruises and hands bound. Her eyes seemed to blame him more each moment.

He stopped eating, which didn’t escape Precious’s notice. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “Work stress.”

But there was no work to stress about; he had taken advantage of his mother’s sacrifice just to win back Precious. He had neither saved nor invested anything; all he had was the phone and her.

Things began to fall apart.

The first sign was the overpowering smell that filled his room. No matter how much he cleaned or used air fresheners, the stench returned nightly, strongest near his pillow.

Then, the phone started to malfunction. Precious’s new iPhone 16 would light up on its own at night, playing voice messages of his mother calling for him. Sometimes, it recorded his conversations while idle and replayed cries that struck a chord of familiarity. Once, it displayed a photo she never took: Daniel holding his bloodied and crying mother.

She confronted him. “Richard, what is this? What are you hiding?”

Panic surged through him. “Nothing! It must be a glitch—maybe it’s hacked!”

But she didn’t believe him and began to distance herself, eventually cutting off all communication and disappearing entirely. Richard searched everywhere for her—her hostel, friends, Instagram—but found no trace.

Then came the final blow:

Her account posted a picture showing Precious kissing another guy, radiating happiness. The caption read: “Upgraded.” Richard collapsed, feeling defeated and nauseated but unable to vomit. The phone—the symbol of his sacrifice—lay next to him, still gleaming, still beautiful, yet buzzing incessantly.

He picked it up to find a new voice note. He pressed play and, to his horror, recognized his mother’s voice.

“I died for nothing.”

Then, silence.

Fueled by rage, he hurled the phone against the wall. It didn’t break; it simply flickered off and back on, revealing her image as the wallpaper—one she had never taken.

Richard screamed and ran outside, barefoot and disheveled, his eyes wild as if he had faced the devil. Perhaps he had, for at the end of the street stood his mother—or what was left of her, head tilted, eyes bleeding, uttering a single word. “Return💔💔💔.

Alright this story is not only to entertain you but to teach you some lessons as well, guess what could be the end of this, now my question is can the Dead rise again, impossible Richard has already eaten his cake and he can't have it back anymore.
Let's keep watching, the next episode meant be the final, and it will be 🔥 to 🔥..
THANKS, i Chidera Daniel Ben Regards you all

📍Regards ❤️

@steemkidss
@ngoenyi