Adaora lost both of her biological parents before she turned two. She never knew their faces, never heard their voices. Her earliest memories were of her aunt, Mama Nkechi — the woman she lovingly called Mom. Mama Nkechi raised Adaora like her own child, sacrificing everything to give her a chance at a better life.

When Adaora turned 19, having completed her secondary education in Nigeria, Mama Nkechi told her it was time. “You’re going abroad,” she said. “You must make something out of this life.”

It was a big decision, and the journey would not be easy. Adaora was to travel by land — through the perilous route that claimed the lives of many young Africans heading for Europe.

Before she left, Mama Nkechi handed Adaora a special waist bead. “This will protect you for 45 days,” she said solemnly. “But listen to me carefully — once you step foot in Italy, take it off immediately. Place it on the ground, step on it, and say a prayer. Only then will you be truly safe.”

Adaora didn’t understand the spiritual significance, but she trusted her mother and obeyed. She wrapped the bead around her waist and began the journey across deserts, dangerous borders, and terrifying nights. Out of the six young women who started the trip with her, only three survived. She believed the waist bead had shielded her from death.

When Adaora arrived in Italy, she forgot her mother's instructions. Amid the chaos and exhaustion, she never removed the bead. Life in Italy was harsh at first, but eventually, Adaora found stability. She met a kind Italian man named Marco, who offered her not only love but also shelter. They dated for three years. During that time, she lived with him rent-free and found jobs in cleaning and caregiving.

Yet, something was wrong.

She earned well, but her money vanished. She couldn’t explain where it went. After five years in Italy, she didn’t even own a single plot of land back in Nigeria — even though land in her village was cheap.

Eventually, through Marco’s help, she got her residence permit. Longing to reconnect with her roots, she traveled to Nigeria for the first time in years. Mama Nkechi was overjoyed. Adaora stayed for two months, reconnecting with family and friends.

One day, while at the market with her younger cousin, she ran into one of her mother’s old friends — Madam Roseline.

“Ah, Adaora! When did you come back?” she asked, pulling her aside with a serious look in her eyes.

They spoke privately.

“Are you still in Italy?”

“Yes, ma,” Adaora answered.

“My daughter,” Madam Roseline said, lowering her voice, “you need to leave that place. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not for you. Just go. Go somewhere else. Your spirit does not belong there.”

She took Adaora’s international number and began calling her regularly after she returned to Italy.

When Adaora told Mama Nkechi about these strange calls, her mother reacted with uncharacteristic rage. “That woman is not my friend!” she shouted. “Block her number. Never speak to her again!”

Confused but obedient, Adaora distanced herself. Yet something inside her felt unsettled.

Months passed. Madam Roseline eventually stopped calling — but her words lingered.

Meanwhile, Adaora’s siblings in Nigeria were thriving. Some were building houses. Some had cars. And yet she, who lived in Europe, couldn’t boast of anything tangible. She started to question everything.

Then came December. Desperate for answers, Adaora booked a secret trip to Nigeria to attend Shiloh — a major Christian revival hosted by Winners Chapel. She told no one. She didn’t even know what exactly she was praying for. She only knew she was spiritually stuck.

On the second day of the program, as she went to buy food, a stranger approached her. A pastor from another ministry.

“Please,” he said, “can I pray for you?”

He held her hand and began praying fervently in tongues. Adaora felt chills run down her spine. After the prayer, he asked, “Do you live abroad?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised.

He told her to call him the next day — he had a revelation but needed to pray more.

When they spoke the next morning, the pastor didn’t mince words.

“You have an enemy in your family,” he said. “Someone gave you something that has bound your destiny — just like your parents, whose lives were cut short in mysterious ways. Your destiny has been exchanged. If you don’t act now, you may not live much longer.”

Adaora was horrified.

“What should I do?” she asked.

“Search your belongings,” the pastor said. “Anything you were given with spiritual weight — destroy it. And leave that place you’re living in. You are not safe.”

Then everything clicked.

The waist bead.

She had never removed it. Instead of discarding it in Italy like her mother instructed, she had tucked it away carefully in her drawer.

Back in Italy, Adaora tore apart her room until she found the old bead. Hands trembling, she called the pastor and explained everything.

“Get a metal bowl,” he instructed. “Put the bead in. Set it on fire while I pray with you.”

She did as he said. The bead sizzled in the flames. As it burned, her phone rang. It was Mama Nkechi.

“Don’t pick it!” the pastor warned. “Leave that place immediately!”

Adaora didn’t answer. She packed her bags and left Italy for the UK the very next morning.

When she arrived safely in the UK, she called the pastor again.

“You’re free now,” he said. “Now, you can pick her calls.”

So she called her mother.

Mama Nkechi was hysterical. “Where are you?! Why didn’t you tell me you were traveling? Go back to Italy! Right now! Are you trying to kill me?!”

The call ended in confusion.

Less than 24 hours later, Adaora received news: Mama Nkechi was dead.

It was Madam Roseline who called.

“You stepped out of Italy — and she died,” she said flatly. “But don’t cry. Don’t shed a single tear. You must not return for the burial. That woman was the one who gave you the bead.”

Two days later, Adaora called Madam Roseline again.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Roseline explained everything.

Years ago, Mama Nkechi had poisoned her out of jealousy and spite. She had lived with unbearable pain in her leg ever since. But God had shown her mercy and warned her about what Mama Nkechi was planning for Adaora.

“She used you,” Roseline said. “To extend her own life. You were never meant to survive. But grace found you.”

Ten Years Later
Today, Adaora is married and has children. She lives in peace. But her past still haunts her.

Her siblings — Mama Nkechi’s biological children — have begged her to reconnect, to return home and make peace. Her husband urges her to forgive.

But Adaora is torn.

“I don’t know if they knew what their mother was doing,” she often says. “And I don’t want to open the door to darkness again.”

She has forgiven them in her heart — but she chooses to stay away.

Because some wounds, once healed, must not be reopened.

Moral of the Story
Evil doesn’t always come wearing a mask. Sometimes it comes as a gift, a hug, a smile — or even a mother’s love. Pray for discernment. Protect your destiny. And when your spirit feels troubled, don’t ignore it.