Episode 1

Everyone kept saying I was lucky, marrying a church man.
I smiled… but I never knew I would run the very first night.

During courtship, he was always calm, always quoting Bible verses, always smiling.
He never raised his voice, not even once.
Maybe that’s why I never truly knew him.
I was too eager to marry the man everyone called a church man.

At the altar, he held my hands and whispered, “Our home will be built on prayers.”

Even at the reception, he paused halfway through his meal just to pray again.
And in that moment, I thought I had finally found peace.

But that peace didn’t last long.

That night, after the wedding, we arrived at his house, a quiet place at the end of the street. The moment he opened the door, I caught a strange scent in the air. It wasn’t perfume… it was something like burnt oil mixed with ashes.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “Just my midnight incense.”

Midnight incense?

I tried to smile, but my body felt uneasy. I brushed it off and followed him inside.

He led me to the bedroom. I was about to sit, but he raised his voice, “No! Hold on, there’s an order here.”

He walked straight to the wardrobe and stood still, whispering something I couldn’t hear. Five minutes passed… then twenty… then an hour.

“Honey,” I said quietly, “it’s getting late.”

He raised his hand without turning. “Don’t speak.”

My heart began to race. Then, through the window, I saw two men approaching the house.

“Are you expecting anyone?” I asked quickly.

He turned slowly toward me, without saying a word

Something inside me whispered, run.
I hesitated… until I heard a voice again: Run now.

As I turned to run, the front door opened and I froze

Episode 2

The moment I turned to run, I heard footsteps and the front door creaked open.

I froze.

Then my husband said calmly, “You look scared. My friends who live down the street came to visit.”

“Visit?” I asked. “At this hour? We just got married and haven’t even settled in.”

He chuckled. “Oh, come on. You ask too many questions. Don’t you trust me? I’m a free man, people respect me. You know my position in church. These are just friends.

He walked out of the bedroom. Soon, laughter filled the house. They sounded cheerful, maybe I had overreacted. Everyone called him a church man, after all.

I freshened up and joined them in the living room.
They greeted me warmly, with smiles and small talk.
Their laughter seemed harmless; we even joked about funny things that happened during the wedding.

For a moment, everything felt normal again.

But I never knew there was more behind what the eyes could see.

Days passed. They visited often. Sometimes they stayed past midnight. Sometimes till dawn.

My husband said they were church men too, but I never once saw them pray or even talk about God.

I started noticing things, how he left the front door open each night, how his friends arrived quietly, and how he never let me serve them food or drinks. He always did that himself.

One night, I decided to stay awake. I needed to know what was happening.

When his friends arrived at midnight, he came into the room as usual, trying to talk, but I pretended to be asleep.

Minutes later, I heard faint footsteps, whispering voices, and then silence.

Slowly, I got up.

The sitting room lights were off, and empty.

Then I noticed a dim glow coming from under the kitchen door.

My heart pounded.

I moved closer.

The whispers stopped, as if my presence was noticed.

I stood for a while then reached for the handle…

turned it gently…

and when I pushed it open, what I saw shocked me.

Episode 3

When I opened the kitchen door, every sound in the house went silent.

There they were my husband and his friends caught in something I couldn’t understand at first.

But as my eyes adjusted, the truth became clear… and I stood frozen.

“My God,” I whispered, trembling. “Is this who you really are…?”

He tried to speak, but no words came out. His friends turned their faces away, struggling to adjust their clothes in shame.

I turned and ran back to the bedroom, tears rolling down my face as I began packing my things.

Moments later, he came in his voice shaking.
“Honey, please don’t go. I love you. I want this marriage to work. I’m sorry. I should have told you before.”

I looked at him, hurt. “You made everyone believe you were a man of God. You wore that title proudly, yet look at this. Why live a lie?”

“I didn’t want people to know. I thought I could change someday, but it kept getting worse,” he cried. “I’ve struggled for years. I truly want to change.”

I sighed deeply. “Then prove it. Ask God for forgiveness, go to the church and confess. Let them know who you are, and let God begin your healing. If you do that, maybe we can rebuild… honestly this time.”

The next day, he did exactly that.
When he stood before the congregation and spoke, there was silence then tears.

People prayed for him, and somehow, for the first time, I saw a real man standing before me.

He cut off his friends. We started again this time, no more lies. No more secrets.

Just truth, forgiveness, and a chance to begin again.

The End