Six Weeks Later

Ebuka walked into the office with a quiet sense of excitement. He was coming straight from the governor’s house, where he had been called before dawn. These days, he no longer handles VIPs personally. The business had grown into a chain, and his senior staff took care of clients of that level with ease but the governor was different.

Long before politics, before power, before convoys and titles, the man had been his mentor. Cutting his hair was no longer work; it had become a ritual. A space where conversations flowed easily, where laughter came freely, and where Ebuka found himself learning.

The governor had a 7 a.m. flight that morning, so the appointment was brief but familiar. At some point, as Ebuka worked, the man looked at him thoughtfully and said, “You know you must marry before my tenure ends. It has to be a state wedding.”

Ebuka laughed. “Sir, please keep praying for me.”

The governor waved it off. “You don’t need prayers. You just need to open your eyes.”

Ebuka laughed again, the sound following him even after he left the house.

By the time Ebuka drove into his office compound, his mind was already buzzing. He still needed to go home to bathe and properly prepare for the day, but ideas for the salon kept forming, one after the other. Afraid to lose the momentum, he decided to step inside first and quickly pen them down.

“You’ve been coming in very early,” Chinelo said as soon as she saw him enter the restaurant. For four weeks now, he had shown up earlier than usual.

“It’s work,” he replied. “There’s so much to do in so little time.”

As he spoke, his eyes scanned the space instinctively, searching for Ada. She wasn’t there.

It felt strange how quickly her absence registered.

After their conversation, which felt like a lifetime ago, he had offered her a position to oversee breakfast service for staff. It was a culture they had before COVID, suspended for safety reasons. Things had eased now, and Ada was perfect for the role. She could handle this while he finalised plans for the restaurant division. The man who had previously managed it had relocated to Canada with his family.

Her reaction when he made the offer still lingered in his mind.

Ada had been overwhelmed with gratitude. Too much, almost. She had hugged him, then dropped to her knees right there in the lounge of his office. The moment had startled him. He’d pulled her up immediately, unsettled by how right she felt in his arms, and by the unexpected jolt of attraction that followed.

He dismissed it quickly.

Pity, he told himself.

“I can never repay you, Mr Ebuka. God bless you,” she had said, tears spilling freely.

“Please don’t call me Mr Ebuka.”

“You are now my boss, my benefactor, my—”

“Shhh,” he had interrupted gently.

She fell silent, but the gratitude in her eyes remained. He still saw it every day.

She had embarrassed him further by bringing Richard to thank him personally. The boy’s excitement had been infectious. Ebuka had given him every little goodie he had in the car, and Richard had reacted as though he’d been handed a ticket to Disneyland. The memory still made him smile.

Gradually, Ada began to look better. Healthier. There was a quiet glow returning to her, and Ebuka told himself that meant his work was done.

He should have moved on.

Focus elsewhere.

But he didn’t.

From a distance, he found himself watching how she worked, how she spoke to staff, how she served food with care, almost reverence. It was exactly as Gladys had once described: Ada treated service like ministry. People came for breakfast, but they stayed for warmth. Some lingered longer than necessary, drawn into conversation, seeking counsel.

Seeing her like that felt like catching a glimpse of who she had been before Justus dimmed her light.

And Ebuka liked what he saw.

Maybe I can help her find herself again, he had thought weeks earlier. That thought alone explained why he kept arriving early, why he lingered when she finished, chatting casually, pretending it meant nothing.

“Sir, your office is on the other side,” Chinelo teased.

Ebuka smiled. She’d worked with him for ten years. She knew.

“You know she has a son, right?” Chinelo added. It sounded less like conversation and more like caution.

“So because she has a son, I can’t come for breakfast?”

Chinelo laughed and stood. “You don’t eat breakfast.”

“I do now.”

“Well, you’re early for work, sir, but late for breakfast. These people are voracious. Food finished before 8:30 a.m.”

“So she’s gone?” he asked, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Chinelo only smiled.

“I mean we need to increase the number of packs,” Ebuka said quickly. “It’s too early for food to finish.”

“Of course,” Chinelo replied, leading him toward his office.

As Ebuka kept glancing back, half-hoping Ada would reappear, he caught Chinelo smiling at him.

He looked away, telling himself it meant nothing.

—————————————————————————————————————————-

Two Hours Later

Ada scrubbed at the clothes with more force than necessary, the sound of fabric against fabric filled the small space behind the family house. She had brought her dirty clothes out along with Richard’s to wash, hoping the work would quiet her thoughts.

It didn’t.

She had been swift at the office that morning. Too swift. Cleaning up immediately after each pack of food was delivered, careful not to leave anything behind that would keep her longer than necessary, by making her go back there. It had become her silent routine lately, a way to escape the small conversations that lingered after breakfast service, the ones that almost always ended with Ebuka standing close, asking how she was doing, whether she was settling in, whether everything was okay.

When he first started coming around for breakfast, she had felt honoured. Touched. That her boss would notice her work, that he would show up consistently. But it had quickly become a daily habit, and people had begun to notice.

People always noticed.

Someone had joked, half serious, that she was his secret girlfriend, and that this job was simply his way of keeping her close. Ada had laughed it off, but the words stayed with her longer than she cared to admit.

If only they knew.

She rinsed out a shirt and wrung it hard, as though she could squeeze the thought away. She needed to find a way to let Ebuka know she was fine. Truly fine. That he didn’t need to keep checking in on her.

Because his attention was becoming dangerous.

She liked it.

There was something about his hovering presence, not intrusive, that made her feel like a woman again. Like she mattered. And that was exactly why it frightened her. It was unfair to feel this way about the man who had helped her back onto her feet.

She was not worthy of someone like him.

Those thoughts had no business forming.

“Lord, forgive me,” she whispered, her hands still moving in the basin. “I prayed for peace, for provision, and You answered me. Please don’t let me ruin it by wanting what I shouldn’t.”

For a brief moment, peace settled in her chest.

Then the sound of a car pulling into the compound broke it.

Ada looked up to see Gladys’s car rolling in. Her heart sank. Gladys had probably come to talk about her wedding again. There was a man in the passenger seat, her fiancé, no doubt. Ada considered slipping back inside, avoiding the encounter entirely. Gladys never missed an opportunity to remind her how far she had fallen, and how much intervention it had taken to pull her out.

Gladys wasn’t cruel. Just blunt. And blunt words cut deepest.

Still, it would be rude not to greet her fiancé. He had already started calling her sister.

But when the car doors opened, it was Ebuka who stepped out beside Gladys, laughing at something she had said.

Ada froze.

If they hadn’t already seen her, she would have turned back immediately, clothes, basin and all. To make matters worse, she was wearing an oversized round-neck T-shirt and a wrapper tied loosely at her waist. She knew exactly how she looked. Like the help. Like the village girl her sister never failed to point out.

“Grace, why do you always have to look like this, for God’s sake?” Gladys said, right on cue. “We don’t have to look like what we’re going through. Anyway, where’s my favourite nephew?”

She swept past Ada into the house.

Ebuka stayed behind.

“You know she doesn’t mean it as an insult,” he said gently. “She just has a big mouth.”

Ada bent over her clothes again, focusing on her hands.

“She’s my sister,” she said quietly. “I know exactly what she meant. But thank you for being kind, Mr Ebuka.”

She turned back to the washing.

“What is this Mr. Ebuka drama?” he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Friends?” Ada echoed softly, then laughed. The word felt misplaced. But she decided to indulge him. “Okay… Ebuka. Thank you for being kind.”

Before he could respond, Gladys called his name from inside the house. He turned and went in.

Ada watched him disappear, certain, absolutely certain, that he looked back at her.

Twice.

She shook her head, rinsed out the last shirt, and told herself firmly that she must have imagined it.

——————————————————————————————————————-

The courtyard had always been Ada’s quiet place.

It sat at the centre of the family house, open to the sky but hidden from the street, a private square where sunlight spilled freely and voices softened. As a girl, she had loved it here. It was where she spread clothes with her friends, sat on overturned buckets to gist, and much later, where she watched YouTube videos on her phone.

Back then, YouTube was simpler, before Nollywood took over. People went there for music videos, cooking tutorials, how-to clips, and the likes. That was where she had first fallen in love with food, pausing videos, scribbling notes, imagining a future that once felt certain.

She was thinking of that now as she stretched out a damp shirt, smoothing the sleeves carefully.

That was when she sensed someone behind her, and shook in fright..

“A penny for your thoughts,” a voice said lightly. “Why do you look so startled?”

Ada turned sharply.

“Ebuka!” Her heart thudded. “I, I wasn’t expecting anyone here.”

He smiled. “I was here earlier to take a business call but your sister dragged me away to attend to something. I came back to take a call.”

“Well,” Ada said gently with a smile, trying to calm her nerves, “this is my house. So technically, you’re the one encroaching.”

Ebuka laughed. “Fair enough.”

Ada hesitated, then smiled awkwardly. “But I’m happy to share.”

“I like the sound of that,” Ebuka said, settling into a chair at the corner of the courtyard.

Ada returned to her work, acutely aware of his presence.

His phone rang.

“Yes,” Ebuka said, switching instantly into work mode. “No, Lagos port is becoming too expensive. The unofficial charges alone are ridiculous. We need to explore another entry point… No, don’t paint the machines yet. Let’s first decide how we’re bringing them in.”

He pulled out his iPad, sketching quickly as he spoke.

“I haven’t paid them yet. No. Let them wait.”

He paused, studied what he’d drawn. “I’ll call you back. I need to think this through.”

He ended the call and sighed.

Ada watched him, unable to stop herself. The way his mind worked. The confidence. The pressure sitting quietly on his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Big and hot pressure but I’ll figure it out. God will help me. He has to.”

He looked at her then and smiled.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful smile?”

Ada blinked. “Ah… I don’t think so.”

“The problem,” he said gently, “is that you don’t smile enough.”

She shrugged. “Life has dealt me some things. Sometimes I don’t even realise I’m frowning.”

“Why not let go of the past,” Ebuka said softly, “and focus on the future? Thinking about what was doesn’t change it, but imagining what can be, that makes all the difference.”

She nodded, then looked away. “You’re right. Let me just finish up here.”

She stepped aside to remove her wrapper and then spread it on the line, revealing nice shorts. She probably tied it earlier to avoid getting wet while she washed, Ebuka thought, then stiffened.

God forgive me, he thought. What is this? Why am I analysing her body?

They weren’t even too short. But suddenly, he wished she’d kept the wrapper on.

When Ada finished, she picked up the bucket. “Alright, sir. See you tomorrow.”

He stood quickly and caught her arm.

She looked up, startled. “What happened?”

“Can we agree to stop this excess respect?” he said. “We’re friends, aren’t we? We were in the same class.”

She gently freed her arm.

“Did you even know I was in your class?” she asked. “You were always… the bigger person, with seats in front of the class. I was the girl at the back with average grades. We always knew you were never our mate, that your future held greater potential than any of us. Yes, we shared a class, but God didn’t create all of us equally, so the sooner some of us accept our place, the better.”

Ebuka sighed. “You serve no one by playing small, Ada. You have so much potential. You’re talented. You’re kind. You’re warm.”

She smiled shyly.

He realised he was overdoing it and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Please do,” she said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She walked away.

Moments later, Gladys burst into the courtyard.

“Ebuka! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. What are you doing in this dingy place? Where people spread clothes and plant pepper.”

Ebuka smiled. “This is actually my favourite place in the house. There’s privacy—”

“Are you okay?” Gladys interrupted. “Come on, let’s go.”

Still smiling, he followed her out of the courtyard.

——————————————————————————————————————–

Six hours Later

Ebuka was about to run the treadmill to the ground. He needed an outlet whenever he was stressed, and running gave him some.

Damn!

Why can’t he get her out of his mind?, he wondered. Three months ago, he had even forgotten that he went to school with Ada or knew anything about her apart from the few things that Gladys said about her, but even then, they never registered.

Till now!

There was no denying it, he was developing feelings for her. Feelings which he had been looking forward to developing for someone less complicated to build his life with.

What was it about her that compelled him to want to be around her?

When Gladys had called that she wanted to go and pick up sample materials for her parents so that they could decide what to wear for the wedding, he had been quick to suggest that he would follow her, for a chance to see Ada. He missed seeing her in the office today, and had not been able to concentrate on anything, so he had decided to go to their family house with Gladys to get her out of his system.

It didn’t work.

“Lord, please make these feelings go away. Ada doesn’t need any complications right now and I want a different kind of person.”

Yet you want her!

Damn!

“What am I going to do?” 

When Gladys had been cruel to Ada this afternoon, he had seen her flinch, and wanted to hold her hands to comfort her. Yet, she saw him as Mr Ebuka. It was obvious the feelings he had were one-way, and he needed to get over it. What she needed right now was a good friend, not all these amorous feelings. He wished he could stop himself. When Gladys had mocked her dressing, all he could see were her curves, and the way the round neck she wore hugged her features. When she took off the wrapper that revealed her shorts, it was all over for him. 

Gosh! What is this? Am I lusting now? 

“Eh! I need help!” Ebuka confessed to himself, then finally came down from the treadmill, breathing very hard.

He sat on the chair closest to him and lowered his head. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Holy Spirit, I need Your help.

I am not perfect. I know that. Behind all You have helped me become, I am still a man, a man who has known a woman, who has been exposed to desires he should have guarded better. I know this was never Your plan, so I am grateful for how well you have kept me from sinning against you in that way again. Please do it again.

I like this woman, Lord. I won’t lie to You. There is something about her that stirs my imagination, and I don’t trust myself with it.

If this feeling is not from You, if it is simply lust taking root, please pull it out completely and dry it up. Give me the discipline and the wisdom to keep my distance. I cannot punish her for my weakness. I cannot remove her from her work because I cannot control myself. So help me control myself.

But if there is more to this, if this is not an unholy craving, but a cry of the heart, then give me clarity. Open my eyes to what is right, and close every door that will lead me away from You.

I want to honour You in this.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

He lifted his head, reached for the bottle of water on the table, and drank deeply, as though trying to steady something inside him. 

His protective instincts were surfacing in ways that surprised him. He found himself thinking ahead, planning, doing things he would never have imagined before. Already, he was quietly exploring scholarship options for Richard, nothing flashy, nothing that would draw attention, just better possibilities for him because he was Ada’s son, and he likes Ada. He had also decided to review Ada’s salary the following month, even though he knew HR would push back. It would raise questions. It would break protocol.

He didn’t mind.

Not because he wanted to rescue her, but because this was how he knew how to care. And even for a man who prided himself on structure and order, he realised that some rules existed to serve people, not restrain compassion.

This afternoon he had told Gladys that she needed to apologise to Ada, and they had literally gone into a fight over it. Right now, they weren’t even talking, because Gladys had told him to mind his business, and he had said Ada was his business.

How could he have uttered such a statement, even at the heat of the moment? It didn’t make sense, he was confused, Gladys too. But in her confused state, Gladys still suspected that something was up.

“When did she become your business?”

“I mean, anyone who is being bullied is my business, besides she is my staff. I protect my own.” he had said, and that would have explained it, if not that he said “his own”

“She is not your own though, so I will say again, mind your business. You can’t care for my sister more than me. What I am doing to her is tough love, to help her realise herself and fight for her identity.”

“Is that what you were doing when you left her and your so-called favourite nephew to suffer without aid?” Ebuka responded strongly.

Gladys glowered at his inquisition.

“Don’t say what you don’t know. Who got her the job she has now?”

They had gone on and on, till she dropped him home, still, he hadn’t recovered from Ada.

Yet, he had no business feeling anything for her, and the realisation settled quietly in him. The wisest thing to do was to pull back before emotions took a shape he couldn’t manage.

No more lingering in the office restaurant every morning.

No more hoping their paths would cross.

No more allowing his thoughts to drift where they had no right to go.

He needed to focus on his own life. On finding a woman whose life did not already carry so much weight.

But she is the one.

The thought came uninvited, soft, almost careless.

Ebuka paused, then let out a short laugh. Of course not. He was reading too much into familiarity, gratitude, and proximity. Ada was simply a woman he cared about. Nothing more.

He shook his head slowly.

“No,” he said under his breath. “That’s not it.”

Still, the thought refused to disappear entirely. It lingered, not loud enough to argue with, but present enough to be noticed.

And that, more than anything else, unsettled him.

—————————————————————————————————————————-