The Forbidden Oath

In the quiet town of Aiyetoro, nestled between ancient hills and sacred groves, there lived a girl named Ifunanya. Her name meant “love,” and true to it, she carried a heart full of warmth and tenderness. Her laughter could soften even the hardest hearts, and her eyes glistened with dreams far bigger than the village that bore her.

Ifunanya was the only daughter of Chief Odugwu, the village's most powerful man—a man who held secrets older than the town itself. As custodian of the ancestral shrine, he belonged to a lineage bound by ancient oaths—unseen, unspoken, but deadly.

Then came Tajudeen.

A dashing, smart young man from the city, Tajudeen came to Aiyetoro as part of a rural development project. He was passionate, full of life, and curious. From the moment he saw Ifunanya at the village stream, he was hooked—not just by her beauty but by the quiet mystery she carried like perfume.

Their love grew like fire under dry harmattan winds. They would meet in secret—beneath the iroko tree at the edge of the forest, where fireflies danced to the rhythm of midnight drums. He called her “My moonlight,” and she called him “My sun.”

But love, no matter how sweet, doesn’t always flow freely in Aiyetoro.

One evening, Chief Odugwu summoned Ifunanya. His face was grave, eyes sunken with something more than age.

"You carry a blood oath, Ifunanya. One sworn before you were born. You are promised to the gods. No man must ever touch your heart—or your body. If you break this oath, your love will die. Not in spirit. In flesh."

Ifunanya wept. Her heart tore into shreds. But how could she tell Tajudeen? How could she abandon the one man who made her feel like the stars danced for her?

But love—true love—never hides for long.

Tajudeen began to notice her distance. Her silences. Her forced smiles. One night, he followed her to the shrine, hiding in the shadows as she knelt before the carved stones of her ancestors.

And he heard everything.

Instead of running, Tajudeen walked out of the shadows, looked into her teary eyes, and said:

"Let the gods strike me if they must. But I will never stop loving you."

That night, they shared a kiss so deep, the wind paused in its tracks.

But the gods were watching.

The next morning, Tajudeen was found unconscious by the stream—his body cold, lips blackened, and chest bearing a strange mark that glowed like fire.

The village screamed. Chief Odugwu wailed.

But Ifunanya… she did not cry. She walked into the sacred grove, alone, barefoot, and faced the ancient spirits.

“Take me. Spare him. Break the oath. Or let us both burn.”

And for the first time in centuries, the gods answered not with thunder—but silence.

When Ifunanya opened her eyes, she was in Tajudeen’s arms. Alive. He was breathing. The mark had faded.

But she knew what it cost her.

She could never bear a child. That was the price.

Yet, they left Aiyetoro, hand in hand—choosing love over fear, life over curse.

They settled in the city, far from the whispers of gods and oaths. And though they had no children of blood, their home became a refuge for orphans and dreamers.

And Ifunanya?

She lived up to her name.

She loved until her last breath.