{"id":28,"date":"2026-01-21T12:42:42","date_gmt":"2026-01-21T12:42:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/?p=28"},"modified":"2026-01-21T12:42:42","modified_gmt":"2026-01-21T12:42:42","slug":"how-i-fell-in-love-with-my-step-mother-episode-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/how-i-fell-in-love-with-my-step-mother-episode-1\/","title":{"rendered":"HOW I FELL IN LOVE WITH MY STEP MOTHER Episode 1"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Episode 1<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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The night my father brought her home, rain fell like it had a grudge against the earth.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I remember because I was awake, lying on the thin mattress in my room, listening to the sound of water hitting zinc roofs and broken gutters. I was twenty-two then, back in Umuofia after failing to find work in the city. Life had reduced me to waiting\u2014waiting for luck, for direction, for something to make sense.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Then I heard a car.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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That alone was strange. My father, Chief Ifeanyi Okonkwo, hardly drove at night. And he never came home with visitors unannounced.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I stood up and peeped through the window. Headlights cut through the rain, stopping in our compound. A woman stepped out of the car.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Even in the dark, I noticed her posture. Calm. Careful. Like someone who knew eyes would always be on her.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cChinedu!\u201d my father called. \u201cCome and greet your new mother.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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New\u2026 mother?<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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My chest tightened. My real mother had been dead for seven years. Since then, the house had been quiet, heavy with memories. I had never imagined anyone else standing in her place.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I walked to the sitting room slowly. My father stood proudly beside the woman. She was beautiful in a quiet way\u2014soft eyes, full lips, and a sadness she tried to hide with a polite smile. She couldn\u2019t have been more than thirty.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cThis is Amara,\u201d my father said. \u201cMy wife.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I forced my lips to move. \u201cYou\u2019re welcome, ma.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She nodded. \u201cThank you, Chinedu.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Her voice did something strange to me. I ignored it.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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That was how Amara became my stepmother.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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At first, everything was normal. Too normal. She woke up early, cooked, cleaned, respected my father, and treated me kindly\u2014almost carefully. She never raised her voice. Never crossed boundaries. She called me \u201cmy son\u201d even when it sounded awkward in her mouth.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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But silence can also be loud.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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My father traveled often, attending meetings and ceremonies in neighboring towns. Each time he left, the house felt\u2026 different. Not empty. Just tense. Like two people pretending not to feel something they didn\u2019t yet understand.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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One evening, weeks after her arrival, I returned late from the farm. Rain clouds were gathering again. As I entered the kitchen, I saw her.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Amara was crying.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Not loudly. Just tears sliding down her face as she stirred soup that was already burning.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cMa?\u201d I called.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She startled and quickly wiped her face. \u201cChinedu. You\u2019re back.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cYou\u2019re crying.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She shook her head. \u201cIt\u2019s smoke.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I wanted to believe her. But something in her eyes betrayed her.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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That night, I couldn\u2019t sleep.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Days passed. Small moments began to pile up. The way she remembered how I liked my food. The way her hand brushed mine once and stayed a second too long before pulling away. The way she avoided my eyes afterward, as if angry with herself.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Then one afternoon, everything changed.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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My father had traveled again. I returned from town to find Amara sitting alone in the sitting room, staring at my late mother\u2019s photograph on the wall.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI didn\u2019t remove it,\u201d she said quietly, without looking at me. \u201cI thought it would be disrespectful.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I sat opposite her. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cShe must have been a good woman.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cShe was,\u201d I replied.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Silence fell.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cDo you hate me?\u201d she asked suddenly.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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The question caught me off guard. \u201cNo. Why would you ask that?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She laughed bitterly. \u201cBecause I sometimes hate myself.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cFor marrying a man old enough to be my father,\u201d she said, finally looking at me. \u201cFor walking into a home filled with another woman\u2019s memories. For feeling\u2026 lonely in a house full of people.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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My throat went dry.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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That was the first time she spoke the truth.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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From that day, the walls between us thinned. Conversations became deeper. Laughter came easier. And with each shared silence, something dangerous grew.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I noticed it one night when she fell asleep on the couch while waiting for my father. I covered her with a wrapper\u2014and my hand trembled.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Fear hit me immediately.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d I whispered to myself.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I avoided her for days after that. But emotions don\u2019t disappear just because you ignore them.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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The night it finally broke, rain returned.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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We were both in the kitchen when the power went out. Darkness swallowed the room. Thunder cracked.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She screamed softly and grabbed my arm.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI\u2019m scared,\u201d she said.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I turned to reassure her\u2014and froze.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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We were too close. Her breath warmed my face. Time slowed.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cChinedu\u2026\u201d she whispered, her voice shaking\u2014not with fear, but with something else.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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That was when I knew.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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This wasn\u2019t a mistake waiting to happen.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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It was already happening.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I pulled away sharply. \u201cThis is wrong,\u201d I said, my heart pounding.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She nodded, tears filling her eyes. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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But knowing didn\u2019t stop the truth.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, understanding something that terrified me more than poverty or failure.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I was falling in love with my stepmother.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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And sooner or later\u2026 it would destroy us all.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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TO BE CONTINUED…<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Episode 1 The night my father brought her home, rain fell like it had a grudge against the earth. I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-28","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-how-i-fell-in-love-with-my-step-mother"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=28"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":39,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28\/revisions\/39"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=28"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=28"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=28"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}