Kosisochukwu Chinedu Amamchukwu

Kosisochukwu Chinedu Amamchukwu Contact information, map and directions, contact form, opening hours, services, ratings, photos, videos and announcements from Kosisochukwu Chinedu Amamchukwu, Psychologist, Awka.
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Experienced Clinical Psychologist & Psychotherapist | Writer | Burns Survivor's Advocate | Passionate about Face count in-equality and Self Actualization | Youth Leadership and Social inclusion | Hybrid Psychologist for L.A.B WhatsApp +447836275296

Involve you? lol 😂 you wey no get Bicycle 🚲 On my way! To pick the woman 👩 wey marry me like that 😂😂😂Happy Sunday
30/11/2025

Involve you? lol 😂 you wey no get Bicycle 🚲
On my way! To pick the woman 👩 wey marry me like that 😂😂😂
Happy Sunday

Part_2️⃣9️⃣ “The Man Who Never Looked Back” It had been over twenty years since Chinedu last saw his father.He used to i...
30/11/2025

Part_2️⃣9️⃣

“The Man Who Never Looked Back”

It had been over twenty years since Chinedu last saw his father.

He used to imagine the reunion — maybe at a burial, maybe by accident on a dusty road — but never like this.

The man appeared one afternoon, limping slightly, a cane in his hand, grey streaking his beard.

He stopped right outside the shop, staring at the signboard that read “C. O. Okafor & Co — Kerosene & General Goods.”

Chinedu froze.

That name — Okafor — the same one his father once swore he’d never allow on his disgrace of a son’s business.

Amara sensed it before she even turned.

She saw the old man, his eyes sharp but tired, watching them in silence.

“Papa,” Chinedu said quietly, stepping out from behind the counter.

The man’s lips pressed together.

“So, it’s true. You’re still here.”

The market seemed to hush, sensing a story long buried clawing its way back.

“I heard you started a business,” his father continued.

“Thought maybe you’d finally learned how to live without shame.”

Chinedu’s throat tightened.

“I didn’t build this to prove anything, Papa. I built it to breathe.”

The old man looked at him — really looked, maybe for the first time.

The scars, the calm eyes, the quiet dignity that no longer flinched.

Then his gaze shifted to Amara.

“And this one? The girl you’ve trapped with pity?”

Amara stepped forward before Chinedu could speak.

“Sir, pity doesn’t build shops.

It doesn’t paint walls. It doesn’t survive gossip.

Love does.”

Silence.

Even the flies seemed to stop buzzing.

The old man’s jaw tightened, but something flickered behind his eyes — guilt, maybe regret, maybe both.

He turned to leave but paused at the edge of the road.

Without looking back, he said, “You look like your mother when you stand that way.”

It wasn’t an apology.

But for Chinedu, it was a crack in the wall — small, uneven, but real.

When he returned inside, Amara was waiting.

“You okay?”

He nodded slowly.

“For the first time… yes.

I didn’t break.”

She smiled.

“That’s because fire already did its worst.

What’s left now is gold.”

And outside, the old man walked away — his son’s laughter following him down the dusty street, haunting, healing, and full of light.

To be continued......


゚viralシ

Send me a WhatsApp message.If your in anambra and you can drive well 😉 with valid drivers license, kindly text me 070 ...
29/11/2025

Send me a WhatsApp message.
If your in anambra and you can drive well 😉 with valid drivers license, kindly text me 070 318 10349
That's my mum in need of a driver.

29/11/2025

I experienced something the last time I was coming home from lagos trip I went to bring in orders that my lovely desire sent from uk 🇬🇧 ❤️❤️
I saw about 3 Toyota super GL aka HUMMER BUS they usually carry casket ⚰️ and inside the casket ⚰️ driven bus 🚌 people will still be sitting 🪑 and still with body. Ikegwuru

29/11/2025

Who is AKU
Who is CHINEDU
who is AKU-CHINEDU ICT HUB
winners in the comments
゚viralシ ゚viralfbreelsfypシ゚viral

“You mock what you don’t have the courage to face. 🥱🧐👽Chinedu’s scars frighten you because they remind you that you’ve n...
28/11/2025

“You mock what you don’t have the courage to face. 🥱🧐👽

Chinedu’s scars frighten you because they remind you that you’ve never survived anything real.”

28/11/2025

“The Morning After the Tears”

The rain had washed the dust off the streets by dawn.

The shop’s roof still dripped softly, the air thick with the smell of wet earth and kerosene.

Chinedu woke before Amara arrived.

He sat at the counter, hands folded, staring at the white walls they’d painted together.

For years, he had feared mornings — because they meant facing another day of being stared at.

But this morning, something was different.

The world felt… lighter.
When Amara stepped in, her wrapper still damp at the edges, she smiled shyly. “You didn’t sleep?”

He shook his head.

“Didn’t need to.

My chest feels empty — but in a good way.”

She laughed softly. “That’s what happens when pain finally leaves its room.”

They talked quietly while the sun climbed, trading stories — her childhood by the river, his dreams before the fire, the books he used to read when hiding from his father’s anger.

Each sentence peeled away another layer, revealing something tender and human underneath the scars.

At one point, Chinedu looked at her and said, “You know, I always thought love was for people untouched by life.

But maybe love is for people who survived it.”

Amara reached out, brushing his cheek — gently, reverently — her fingers tracing where skin had healed unevenly.

“Your face tells a story I’ll never be tired of reading,” she whispered.
He smiled then, a real smile — not the polite one he gave customers, but the kind that comes from finally believing someone’s gaze could be soft and true.

Outside, the market began to stir.

Voices rose, laughter returned, and sunlight streamed through the cracks in the roof, landing right on them — like light finding home.

For the first time in his 44 years, Chinedu didn’t feel like a man who survived fire.

He felt like a man who was learning to live.


Thanks for being a top engager and making it on to my weekly engagement list! 🎉 William Johnson, Amala Nwobosi, Uzo Oder...
27/11/2025

Thanks for being a top engager and making it on to my weekly engagement list! 🎉 William Johnson, Amala Nwobosi, Uzo Odera, Chuks Nolly, Lovelyn Amalachi Chinweuba, Veronica Okewu, Chy Bast, Nwanneka Okafor, Chidubem Okenze, Ikwu Chinonso Franklin's, Joy Okechukwu, Chi Nedumụọm, Bakht Khan Bakht Khan

Part_ 2️⃣7️⃣ “The Night He Finally Spoke” That night, the market noise had long faded. Only the chirping of crickets and...
27/11/2025

Part_ 2️⃣7️⃣

“The Night He Finally Spoke”

That night, the market noise had long faded.

Only the chirping of crickets and the hum of faraway generators filled the air.

The little shop was closed, but Chinedu and Amara stayed — sitting on overturned buckets, surrounded by the faint smell of kerosene and paint.

For the first time in weeks, he couldn’t look at her.

His hands fidgeted with a bottle cap, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“Amara,” he said finally, voice raw.

“Do you know I used to pray for God to take me in my sleep?”

Her heart caught.

“I was five when the fire happened,” he continued, his tone flat but trembling.

“They said I played too close to the lantern.

My father… he couldn’t even look at me.

He’d say, ‘You’ve brought shame to my name.

You’ll never be normal.’”

He swallowed hard, fighting tears that had waited too long to fall.

“Everywhere I went, people saw the burns before they saw me.

Even in church, they’d move away.

Girls laughed.

One told me she’d rather die single than marry a man that looks like smoke touched him.”

Amara reached out, her hand brushing his.

He didn’t pull away.

“I tried to be good,” he whispered.

“I studied, worked, helped people. But nothing erased the look in their eyes.

That mix of pity and fear.

It’s like… I’ve been living behind a window all my life — seeing people, but never really among them.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks before she realized it.

Then he turned to her.

“You’re the first person who didn’t flinch.

Even when I was silent, even when I doubted everything… you stayed.

And that scares me, Amara.

Because I don’t know if I deserve it.”

She leaned closer and said quietly, “You don’t have to deserve love, Chinedu. You just have to receive it.”

He broke then — not loudly, but in the quiet, shaking kind of way a man does when he’s carried his pain too long.

She held him, and for the first time since that night of the fire, Chinedu let himself cry — not from shame, but release.

Outside, rain began to fall.

It wasn’t heavy — just enough to sound like forgiveness on the roof.

And under that sound, something shifted.

He wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was healing.


゚

27/11/2025

At the office.
Home camera 📷 ✅
32 inch frameless 📺 ✅
55 inch smart 📺 ✅
Fridge and freezer standing ✅
゚

Dear God are you home 🏡? I trust you.
26/11/2025

Dear God are you home 🏡?
I trust you.

Part_2️⃣6️⃣ Chinedu’s scars frighten you because they remind you that you’ve never survived anything real.”“The Fire in ...
26/11/2025

Part_2️⃣6️⃣ Chinedu’s scars frighten you because they remind you that you’ve never survived anything real.”

“The Fire in Her Voice”

It started like any other market day — chatter, haggling, the smell of roasted corn mixing with diesel fumes.

Chinedu was serving customers when Amara noticed the trader across the lane — the same man who’d been whispering, mocking, watching.

She’d overheard him earlier, laughing to his friends:

“She wan use pity do love story.

That girl go soon run, e just time.”

Her heart pounded, blood rising like a tide she couldn’t hold back.

For weeks she’d ignored the gossip, the smirks, the quiet cruelty that always followed her.

But this—this was too much.

She walked straight to his stall, head high.

The market seemed to pause, the air thick with the weight of everyone’s curiosity.

“Say it again,” she said, her voice calm but steady.

The man scoffed, pretending to rearrange his goods. “Aunty, no vex. We just dey play.”

“People like you call cruelty ‘play’ because it makes you feel tall,” she said, loud enough for others to hear.

“You mock what you don’t have the courage to face.

Chinedu’s scars frighten you because they remind you that you’ve never survived anything real.”

Silence fell.

A few women glanced at each other.

Even the gossipers kept their mouths shut.

Amara’s chest rose and fell, but she didn’t tremble.

She turned and walked back to Chinedu’s stall, where he stood frozen, the bottle of kerosene still in his hand.

When she reached him, she smiled faintly.

“I got tired of pretending words don’t hurt.”

He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time — not as the girl who chose him, but as a woman who stood with him.

That night, as they closed up, the same women who used to whisper stopped by the shop.

One of them said softly, “Amara, you get strong heart. No be everybody fit love that way.”

And for the first time, Chinedu realized something:

His scars had made him strong.

But her love — her fire — made him seen.

To be continued.........

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