DEDICATION

To lovers of Nigerian romance fiction. You rock! I write because you read. Thank you.

BLURB

Uloma Anosike believes her parents summoned her home to discuss her father’s will and assets. Flying back from Liverpool to Enugu, she’s ready to assist in any capacity. 

She has no clue that her trip back is part of an elaborate plan by her mother to fix her up with yet another man, and that this homecoming would change her life forever.

Fulfilling his parents’ wish, Afam Okunna returns to Enugu from Manchester to organise their rental properties. However, there’s one more request they have for him—to go on a blind date with a woman they want to introduce him to. Irritated by their persistent meddling in his love life, he agrees reluctantly. But he discovers it’s not really a blind date. He already knows who the woman is. 

THE PLAN

African hair salons often serve as a gathering place for women to share stories, trade fashion advice, vent about family matters, particularly their husbands, or simply socialise.

In Ndidi Anosike and Bianca Okunna’s case, it was where they came up with a plan to solve their mutual problem.

It started off when Bianca overheard the other woman grumbling about her unmarried daughter. She had not meant to eavesdrop, but the woman spoke loudly enough to wake the dead.

Even with her head tilted back over a sink while a young girl vigorously scrubbed her scalp during her hair wash, the conversation happening at the other end of the room snagged Bianca’s attention. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with these abroad children, eh? My daughter is thirty-four years old and not married,” the woman’s voice boomed in the room. “And she doesn’t even have a man, no prospects at all!”

Bianca stilled herself, straining her ears to listen, even though she could hear every word loud and clear. 

The woman’s laments struck a chord within her. She was in the same predicament. Her abroad son, Afam, was thirty-six years old and unmarried. A burden she had been carrying like a weight on her chest. 

A fully qualified family doctor, her Afam had everything he could need to settle down with a wife–a nearly fully paid mortgaged house, a steady job and several investments. Why hadn’t he brought any woman home for marriage yet?

Two years ago, Afam was seeing a woman he met in the U.K. It gave her hope because Afam seemed happy with Lotanna. 

However, when she asked Afam when he was bringing Lotanna home, he told her they’d broken up. There was no real reason, just some silly excuse about them not being compatible. Why had it taken him two years to realise that? Eh?

“I regret sending Uloma to university in the U.K. Now, she’s behaving like all these independent oyibo girls who don’t believe in settling down and bearing children early.” The woman kissed her teeth loudly. “When I was her age, I was already married with three children. Three!” Her voice trembled with befuddlement, as if she couldn’t comprehend the stark contrast between her own life and that of her daughter.

Bianca understood her completely. She, too, had married in her early twenties. Her husband was in his late twenties then. God blessed them with two sons. Chuka, her younger son, got married two years ago, and even though it was still late in her opinion to marry at thirty-two, he’d done far better than his older brother, Afam.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing the girl washing her hair would work faster so that she could see the woman talking.

“I’m desperate for my first daughter to marry before people start laughing at me,” the woman went on. “I’ve pleaded with her. Begged her. Even threatened her, but the girl won’t listen.”

“Ah, Mrs Anosike. It’s not easy to find a husband abroad o. Good Nigerian men are scarce these days,” a hairdresser said.

Bianca couldn’t see who’d spoken, but it sounded like it was Zina, one of the new girls recently employed in the salon.

“Nigerian men? That hope is long gone for me now! I don’t even care if she brings an English, Japanese, or Indian man home. I’ll accept any husband at this point!”

Laughter rippled throughout the room, causing Bianca to chuckle. There was something comical about the desperate lilt in the woman’s tone, but what she said resonated within her soul. 

“I’ve tried everything to get my daughter to take this seriously. Everything! What else can I do?” asked the woman. 

With a sudden burst of inspiration, Bianca shot up from her seat, unintentionally knocking the hairdresser’s shower head out of place and creating a splash of water in every direction. “I think I have an answer to that,” she burst out in excitement.

The woman, who was seated in front of the large mirror having her hair braided, turned abruptly towards her, curiosity etched in her eyes.

Bianca’s heart skipped a beat as she realised that all eight people in the salon had their eyes locked on her. Her face burned with embarrassment. 

The young girl washing her hair gave her a sour look as she turned off the faucet. She threw a towel in her direction before ambling away.

“What answer could you possibly have?” the woman asked, still training perplexed eyes on her.

Bianca picked up the towel from the armrest where it had landed, and wrapped it over her head. She strolled towards the woman sitting in front of the mirror, and pulled out the empty chair beside her. Sinking into it, she dragged it closer. “Mrs Anosike … right?”

The woman hesitated and then nodded. “You can call me Ndidi,” she said.

“Good afternoon, Ndidi,” Bianca greeted with a cheerful smile. “My name is Bianca Okunna, and I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

Ndidi stayed quiet, her face still showing confusion.

Undeterred by the woman’s look, Bianca continued. “You see, I’m in the same predicament as you,” she said. “My son is a 36-year-old doctor who lives in the U.K. He’s unmarried, and I’ve also been on his case to find a wife.”

“So? What has that got to do with me?”

Bianca leaned forward in a conspiratorial way. “Well, you have an unmarried daughter living in the U.K and I have an unmarried son living in the U.K. We’re both desperate to get them married.”

Ndidi’s eyes widened as understanding gradually set in. “Oh.”

“Exactly!” Bianca exclaimed. “We can help each other out with this mutual problem.”

“Ah!”

Cheering erupted in the salon. 

“Simple problem, simple solution,” said the hairdresser holding strands of hair extensions behind them.

“True. It seems like a simple solution,” Bianca concurred, proud of herself for the idea. She turned back to Ndidi. “Can we work together to solve our mutual problem?” 

Ndidi said nothing for several seconds, then nodded, a slow smile unfurling her lips. “I believe so,” she said. “Show me his picture first.”

Bianca brought out her phone and showed Ndidi several pictures of her son proudly. Her Afam was handsome–tall, with smooth mahogany skin, a full head of closely cropped hair and a well-trimmed beard. He also exercised regularly, so he was athletic, with broad shoulders, a muscular chest, and a flat tummy.

She could tell Ndidi approved even before she spoke. “He’s good-looking. And so is my daughter, Uloma. Look…”

Bianca went through several pictures of Uloma on Ndidi’s phone. She liked what she saw of the tall and slender woman, with curves just in the right places. Her buttery toffee complexion, long, natural hair and pretty face were the perfect icing to an already gorgeous cake. She knew her son would find her attractive. He had a thing for women with pretty faces. At least, those were the kind of women she ever saw him with.

“I think they’ll like each other,” Bianca said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

She relaxed in her seat, feeling motivated. Hopefully, their matchmaking plan would solve their problem. For good!

THE RETURN

Uloma reclined against her seat and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the nausea that rose to her throat as the plane ascended into the air.

She hated flying with a passion that rivalled her hatred for spiders. The paralysing fear she felt whenever she saw those crawling creatures was the same anxiety that overcame her as the plane gained altitude.

Parting her lips, she breathed slowly in and out through her mouth, relieved that she’d managed a seat by the aisle and not one by the window.

Thankfully, the British Airways staff at check-in understood her predicament and changed her initial sitting arrangement.

If there was any other way she could travel from the U.K to Nigeria, she would use that mode of transportation. But unless she was prepared to travel several miles by road or sail by sea for days, she would have to suck it up and endure the six-hour flight back home.

Fingers crossed, the Diazepam her GP prescribed would knock her out soon and make this flight back from London Heathrow tolerable.

If she survived the one-hour connecting flight from Manchester, she could certainly do this. For her father. He needed her, and she would be there for him, no matter the discomfort.

Uloma swallowed hard, recalling her mother’s phone call seven weeks ago. She’d been relaxing on the patio after dinner with Steve, her on and off, much younger boyfriend, when her phone rang.

Happy to see it was her mother, she eagerly answered the phone, much to Steve’s annoyance, as he was in the middle of sharing one of his typically long-winded stories that she rarely paid attention to.

“Since your father’s stroke, he’s become paranoid,” her mother had said in hushed tones, as if she didn’t want her husband to hear. “He is afraid his brothers will try to take his properties because he has no son.”

Uloma had rolled her eyes, annoyed by that information. Her father’s two older brothers, Uncle Uche and Uncle Eloka, persistently mooched off their younger brother, and she could envision them swooping in to claim what was not theirs if he died. 

They were leeches, patiently waiting to suck her father dry. His death would give them the opportunity to drain him completely.

“It’s a shame,” Uloma had said, shaking her head bitterly. “How can they even have a claim to anything when Dad has a wife and children?”

“I know, my daughter. Your father is doing everything he can to ensure they have no claim to anything he has. But he’s still worried. He wants you to be involved in his will.”

“In his will? How?”

“He wants you to meet his lawyers and be there when he makes a video confirming his wishes about his will. Plus, he wants to show you all his assets.”

Uloma agreed. Her parents were right. Even though her father’s will provided some protection against automatic disinheritance solely due to gender, there were still unsettling stories of wives and female children being forcibly disinherited by greedy male family members. 

This showed that even legal safeguards could sometimes be undermined by family dynamics and societal pressures, leaving women vulnerable despite formal protections. She needed to do whatever she could to stop that from happening.

“I’ll take time off work and travel back,” she’d said.

Uloma followed up her promise to her mother by calling the HR of her accounting firm, Stone and Bulford, where she worked as a senior partner, and took her long overdue four-week annual leave. 

Afterwards, she secured this flight to Enugu, the town in eastern Nigeria where she was born and raised.

The plane steadied into a smoother buoyancy in the air, and Uloma exhaled in relief. She’d overcome one of the worst parts of her fear of flying–take off. Hopefully, she’d be fast asleep by the time the plane was landing.

Afam smiled as soon as he spotted his father’s driver standing by a black Jeep. He waved cheerily, relieved to be on the last leg of his over ten-hour journey back to Enugu.

First, he’d boarded a flight from Manchester to London, waited four hours at Heathrow Airport, then boarded the flight to Abuja. 

After another long wait at the Murtala Mohammed Airport in Abuja, he finally found himself on a plane to Enugu.

Thankfully, his father’s driver was already here, and he didn’t have to wait at Arrivals for too long.

“Hey, John!” he called out, trying to get the driver’s attention.

John, a short and stout middle-aged man with a balding head and a heavy beard, swept his gaze across the crowd until he saw him. 

His eyes lit up with recognition and his lips spread with a smile. “Oga Afam!” John hailed, crossing the tarmac and hurrying towards the Arrivals section.

Afam pulled up his luggage handle and rolled it towards John.

They greeted each other with a handshake. “Oga the oga! How was your trip?” John said, taking his suitcase from him.

“It was long as hell. Three planes! I’m so tired. I just want to eat and sleep.”

“Don’t worry, oga. Soon you’ll be able to do both.”

Grinning from molar to molar, Afam settled into the passengers’ seat, excited to finally be on his way home.

A couple of weeks ago, his parents reached out to him, urging his return to inspect and familiarise himself with all the properties they had left for him and his brother.

At first, he’d been reluctant, asking why his younger brother couldn’t do it, but he had to concede that Chuka, whose wife had just given birth, wasn’t the best person for the task. Besides, he was the oldest, and he was still single, so he didn’t have to worry about leaving a family behind for this important duty.

So, here he was in eastern Nigeria after taking a month off work and booking his flights out of Manchester.  

Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, Afam savoured the crisp air of Enugu, his hometown. He missed this place where he was born and raised.

Years of living in Manchester never changed the fact that he always considered this his home. He loved the abundant red earth, clear blue skies and plush greenery, even in residential areas.

To him, Enugu indigenes were the friendliest people on earth. They always looked out for their neighbours, readily lending a hand and even taking care of other people’s children when necessary.

The only downside about this city, apart from the tap water scarcity, was the propensity for gossip to spread like wildfire. 

He knew the whole neighbourhood would find out he was back in no time, and visitors would swarm his family home in Trans-Ekulu like flies during the summer.

Afam suppressed a sigh. Hopefully, he’d have time to rest before then.

THE ANNOUNCEMENT 

Mouth agape, Uloma stared at her mother. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Despite the pelting of the heavy raindrops on the roof, she was sure that her ears were not deceiving her.

“You mean you lied to me, made me travel several miles back home just to meet a man you think would be a good husband for me?” Incredulity coloured her tone.

Her mother didn’t even have the decency to act remorseful. “I didn’t lie. Your father needs you here. I’m just trying to kill two birds with a stone.”

Uloma hissed and rose to her feet. She turned to her father, who was seated at the other end of the dining room. “Did you know about this?”

The older man raised both hands in surrender and shook his head vehemently. “No.” He flashed accusing eyes at his wife. “You know your mother and her hare-brained plans. This has nothing to do with me or why I want you here.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a blind date,” her mother said, a hint of innocence in her voice, as if she hadn’t conspired to deceive Uloma by pretending her trip to Nigeria was of utmost importance. “Meet the man and see if he’s your type. He’s a doctor, and lives in the U.K. like you. There’d be no immigration issues if you like him.”

Uloma bristled. If she had a nickel for every failed blind date her mother had forced her into, she would have a fortune rivalling that of Dangote’s. 

Marriage was the furthest thing from Uloma’s mind at the moment. And certainly not marriage to someone her mother deemed suitable—usually uptight, Igbo, and overtly religious men. Not her typical cup of tea. 

She loved men who were free spirits. Who understood her desire for travel and adventure. Not men who wanted to domesticate her and turn her into a baby-making housewife.

“What’s the issue with simply meeting the man?” her father asked, hope sparking in his eyes.  

Uloma shook her head and glanced at her nearly finished plate of jollof, her appetite now completely gone. 

Why did her parents want to get her hitched so badly?

Yes, she was in her thirties, and yes, her younger sisters were already happily married with children. But didn’t they want her to be happy too? Didn’t they want her to find a man that would make her happy instead of forcing these boring Igbo suitors on her?

“I just can’t,” she said, storming out of the dining room.

Grumbling under her breath, she marched down the hallway and bounded up the curved stairway of her parents’ five-bedroom duplex home in Independence Layout, Enugu.

She pushed open the door to her childhood bedroom, pulled out her phone from her jeans and slumped into the chair by the window.

Peering out into the pouring rain that had started to flood the streets, she dialled her best friend’s number.

“Hi, Tosin,” she said once the line connected. “I’ve been back home for just three days, and I’m already fed up. To think I have over three more weeks of this. Hell no!”

Tosin laughed, the familiar sound of her deep voice comforting. 

As the only Nigerians in the banking and finance department of the University of Chester, they had formed an instant friendship. Uloma had immediately taken to the dark-skinned, curvy woman with a boisterous personality to boot. Several years later, their friendship waxed stronger, even after Tosin moved to London for a new job. 

“Haba! What’s the issue this time around?” Tosin asked, her tone drenched in amusement. 

“Imagine my mother o. She wants to introduce me to a man who she believes could be my future husband.”

“Do you know who?”

“No. But knowing my mother, I’m sure he’s an okoro looking for a humble wife.”

Tosin chuckled at Uloma’s response. “And? What’s the big deal? You know you and Steve aren’t going anywhere. You’ve told me several times that you want to break up with him.”

Uloma contemplated her friend’s remark about her unfulfilling relationship with Steve. 

In his early twenties and a wannabe artist, he had almost nothing in common with her. Except maybe good sex, which was now becoming a chore because Steve was still so energetic and wanted her bending in positions her thirty-four-year-old back was finding more challenging these days.

She was becoming tired of the lack of meaningful conversations with him and his growing dependency on her finances. 

For the past few months, she’d been trying to find the right time to break things off with Steve. Yes, she’d miss the sex, his gorgeous blue eyes, and long blond hair, but she knew that their time together had run its course.

“I mean, this could really be a chance to meet someone new,” Tosin continued, then released a wistful sigh. “I wish my parents were trying to fix me up instead of persistently billing me.”

Uloma twisted her lips. Her friend was right. No harm in meeting the guy to see what he was all about. If she didn’t like him, she wouldn’t have to see him again after her four weeks in Nigeria. 

“Okay, I’ll meet him,” she conceded. “But if he’s irritating as hell, I’ll make sure I give him your number, so he’ll bug you, too.”

Tosin bellowed out a laugh. “At this point, I’ll take any African man. I seem to attract only oyibos.”

Uloma smiled. “And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, Tosin. Remove the restrictions surrounding your heart and you may just find the love of your life.”

“Take your own advice, Uloma. Stop running away from Igbo men. Your soulmate may just be your kinsman.”

Uloma expelled a forceful breath. She seriously doubted that. Except for her beloved father, she’d only had unpleasant experiences with men of her tribe. They always seemed so chauvinistic and narrow-minded. She desperately hoped that meeting this man would finally bring an end to her parents’ meddling in her love life.

Walking on tiptoes to prevent his shoes from sinking completely into the flood that almost reached his ankles, Afam followed his father to the backseat of the Jeep.

They were on their way from Awka after inspecting the property his father had put up for rent several years ago.

As he settled in beside his father, he turned, eyes brimming with admiration, at him. The older man, still tall and upright for a man in his mid-sixties, impressed him.

From a background of poverty, Afam’s father had worked hard in the construction industry until he rose to the top of his game, amassing enough wealth to pass down to his two sons, including four rental properties at various parts of eastern Nigeria and a massive six-bedroom mansion where they lived in Enugu. Phenomenal. 

“I’ll meet with your lawyers and the estate managers during my four-week stay,” Afam said to his father as John, who was at the wheel, turned on the ignition and pulled the car out into the road.

“That would be wonderful. I think it’s time for you to be involved in my business affairs. I’m getting older and won’t be here for much longer.”

Afam shook his head vehemently, unwilling to hear such talk from his father. “God forbid it, sir. You still have more years with us.”

His father chuckled. “We can only pray, my son. Let’s remain prepared for that eventuality.”

“I know. But I also hope that it won’t be for several decades yet.”

His father’s eyes held an uncertain spark as he absentmindedly scratched his head, covered in grey, peppered hair. “Speaking of which … Your mother asked me to tell you something.”

Suddenly uneasy, Afam half-turned in his seat towards his father. “What?”

“Well… she has arranged for you to meet a woman–”

Afam sucked his teeth loudly, cutting his father off. “Not again. Why can’t the woman leave me alone? Is it by force to get married?”

“Yes,” his father snapped. “You’re thirty-six. My first son. It’s important to settle down and start having children soon.”

Afam shook his head. “So, you prefer I settle down with the wrong woman and have problems later instead of finding the right one?”

“And how long does it take to find the right one? Eh?” His father clucked his tongue. “We were happy when you were dating your former girlfriend… What’s her name…? Lotanna. What happened to that relationship?”

“She stole from me. That’s what happened. Cleared nearly half the money in my account without my knowledge.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, Dad. I didn’t just break up with her for superficial reasons. I’m more sensible than that.”

“Well… that doesn’t mean all women are thieves. You just have to find the right one.”

“And I’ll do that. In my own time. There’s no rush.”

“As I’m growing older, so are you. There’s no longer any time to waste. You need to be more intentional about finding a wife.”

“So, is meeting strange women for blind dates the best way to go?”

“What other choice do we have? You haven’t brought us any potential candidate yet.” His father let out a sigh. “Don’t worry, Afam, your mother swore that you’d like this woman. She’s an investment banker who lives in Liverpool. Just an hour from where you live in Manchester.”

Afam rolled his eyes. “That makes it even worse. If I don’t like her, she’d be close enough to harass me.”

“Your thinking about women as a source of harassment is very worrisome. Women are the most wonderful beings God created,” his father said, a teasing smile on his face. “Your mother can be a lot to handle, but she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I won’t be where I am today without her.”

His father placed a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, son. Just meet the woman to humour your mother. If you don’t like her, no harm done. She doesn’t need to know where you live in the U.K.” He leaned forward and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “But what if you like her? Would that be the worst way to meet your future wife?”

Afam blew out a resigned sigh and turned towards the window at his side. His father was right. There was no harm in meeting the woman. If she wasn’t his cup of tea, he could always walk away and get back to his life when he returned to the U.K. No harm. No foul.

Turning back to his father, he stretched his lips into a strained smile. “Okay, I’ll meet her.”

THE NOT-SO-BLIND DATE

Seven days of non-stop rain and now, here she was, waddling ankle deep through murky waters on her way to meet a man she didn’t even want to meet.

Thankfully, it was a short walk from the car park to The Manor, a popular restaurant on Chime lane in GRA.

Uloma let out a terse curse under her breath, hiking up her gown with one hand and holding the umbrella over her head with another. “God! I’ll kill my mother,” she muttered angrily.

If only she’d stayed back home, she wouldn’t find herself in this predicament.

Why on earth did she think the flood wouldn’t get her? 

She could have called to cancel the date with any reasonable excuse. Heck, she could have even blamed her absence on the bloody flood. Everyone in Enugu knew not to venture outside unnecessarily today.

But she’d been wary about breaking her promise to her mother, worried about being rude, so she’d set out today despite the heavy downpour, hoping that the rising flood wouldn’t get her.

Today, it seemed to rain heavier, making her drive to this restaurant even more daunting.

The man better be worth it. Otherwise, she would curse her mother out.

Pinching her lips tightly together in annoyance, she put one foot ahead of the other, trying not to look down at the damage the water was doing to her beloved strapped sandals with spiky gold-plated heels.

Damn it all! If she’d predicted how quickly the flood would rise today, she would have worn more sensible shoes, sneakers even. 

Meeting this okoro man her mother was bent on fixing her up with wasn’t worth damaging her most pricy Louboutins. 

“Ah! Finally,” she grunted in relief when she made it to the restaurant’s pavement.

Thanks to the slight sloping of the steps that rose above the flood, she was finally on dry land.

Shaking her head as she inspected her ruined shoes, Uloma lowered her hands, allowing her gown to slide back down to her ankles.

Another faux pas—wearing a long dress in a flood.

She should know better, coming from a country where the rain fell almost non-stop. But at least the Liverpool drainage surpassed that of Enugu by far. Floods were never this bad.

Uloma closed her umbrella and shook out the excess water before sliding it into its waterproof covering and tucking it into her purse.

She checked her appearance with a quick glance at her reflection on the window glass, then swept into the restaurant.

To her uttermost relief, she still looked put together outwardly, albeit irritated inside. Nothing worse than looking drenched and crazy when meeting someone new. Although right now, she couldn’t care less what the man thought of her.

Uloma scanned the busy restaurant, searching for any man sitting alone. She hadn’t bothered asking her mother for her blind date’s picture because she felt it would be pointless. There was no way in hell she’d be interested in any man her mother set her up with. This would definitely be the first and last time she would see Mr Afam whatever-his-surname. 

Her eyes stopped on the man sitting at the far end of the room, and her stomach lurched when he turned to look at her.

Damn! He was handsome… and strangely familiar. He was tall with broad shoulders, smooth ebony dark skin, full hair–her weakness–and the most beautiful luminous eyes she’d ever seen on a man. Had she met him before? If so, where?

His expression turned from uncertainty to awareness, and then he smiled, rising from his seat and waving her over.

Uloma’s pulse rate sped up. The man’s smile was simply breathtaking, his full lips exposing pearly white and perfectly shaped teeth.

Chukwu! Is this my blind date? What a knockout!

A slow smile spread across her lips as she moved towards him, fighting the impulse to quicken her steps. 

For the first time since her mother’s irritating matchmaking attempts, the older woman had finally got one thing right–finding a man with an A+ in the looks department.

Let’s just hope he isn’t also A+ in the arsehole department.

His breath caught in his throat as soon as he turned his face and saw her. He couldn’t believe it.

Uloma Anosike! The girl he’d pined for throughout secondary school. She was three classes below him in FGC Enugu. 

Then, he’d been a scrawny, shy boy with a face full of pimples, and she was the beautiful girl everyone wanted to be friends with.

He’d never had enough courage to say a word to her. But he’d admired her from far until he left the school and travelled out of the country for his university degree.

While at the University of Manchester, he often found himself thinking about her, and he even tried reaching out by sending her a friend request on Facebook. 

After waiting for a year without her accepting his request, he deleted it and moved on, allowing his thoughts of her to fade. 

He fixed his gaze on her, his pulse beating at breakneck speed. Wow! She hadn’t changed much. Uloma was still beautiful, with a pretty face and a fuller, shapelier figure. He always liked her smile, which showcased a dimple on her right cheek, and her long, natural hair.

Was she the woman his mother set him up with? He had refused his mother’s every attempt to show him pictures of her because he didn’t think he’d be interested. It didn’t matter how she looked.

Although his mother had told him the name of his blind date, Afam had shunned away the possibility of it being the same Uloma Anosike from secondary school. No way would someone as beautiful and put together as Uloma be single and going on blind dates. At least, that was what he’d convinced himself of.

But now, looking at the way she cast unsure eyes on him, his gut told him she was the one. The coincidence was just too uncanny. 

At that realisation, Afam rose to his feet with a massive grin on his face as he waved her over.

How could life be this strange? After braving the heavy rain and wading through the flood to get here, all the while grumbling under his breath, he’d vowed to give his mother a piece of his mind later today. He would make her promise never to set him up ever again, convinced he’d gone through all that trouble just to sit in a busy restaurant and wait for a woman he was sure he wouldn’t like.

Of all the people he’d expected to see as his blind date, his secondary school crush had never crossed his mind.

He’d expected one of the typical overzealous women his mother usually tried to force on him. Women who were more interested in a wedding ring than being in a healthy relationship.

Holding his breath, he waited as she approached him, taking in how striking she looked in the silver gown that accentuated her slender frame, and the stunning styling of her hair in an intricate updo. She had flawlessly applied makeup with natural shades that showcased her high cheekbones and drew attention to her doe-like eyes and full, bow-shaped lips.

“Afam?” she asked, her tone tentative.

“Yes, that’s me. Uloma Anosike! I can’t believe my eyes. It’s been like … nearly twenty years since I last saw you.”

She took a step back and studied him quizzically. “You know me? From where?”

He chuckled nervously, trying to hide his embarrassment. Mess up! He should have known better than to come on too strong. 

That he remembered her didn’t mean she’d remember him. He’d been so awkward and quiet throughout secondary school, literally nicknamed “shadow”, not only for his dark skin-tone but also because people rarely saw or heard him speak.  

“From FGC Enugu. I was three sets ahead of you. Science class,” Afam said. 

Uloma didn’t respond as she looked at him with concentration, as if trying to jog her memory.

Not wanting her to feel bad about not recognising him, Afam waded in quickly. “You may not remember me. I was very quiet in–”

“Afam! Ha! I remember you now. Shadow!” she blurted out, cutting him off, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Afam’s heart jumped inside his chest and began pounding violently. He’d not expected her to remember him, much less recall his nickname.

“Remember that time in secondary school when my shoe fell into a well?” she asked, a delightful twinkle in her eyes. 

Afam blushed as he nodded. He could still recall that day like it had happened yesterday. He’d been waiting in a queue to fetch water from the school well when he saw Uloma looking flustered. Her shoe had toppled into the shallow well as she tried to manoeuvre her water-filled bucket out of it. The mortification on her face and her shriek of dismay had caused a ripple of laughter to erupt around them. However, he’d not laughed. Seeing her genuine distress, he intervened to assist her in recovering it.

She thanked him profusely, her head bowed and her eyes avoiding his gaze as she scurried away with her bucket of water, still visibly embarrassed. 

Two weeks later, she’d walked past him in the refectory without so much as a hello as if she had no recollection of ever meeting him. He was a bit taken aback by that, but he couldn’t hold it against her for not remembering him. Their interaction that day had been minimal, and she spent most of that time hiding her face in her hands while others mocked her predicament. 

Her soft voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. “You were the one who helped me get it out, weren’t you?”

Afam nodded again. “Yep.”

“Oh, Afam, I never forgot your kindness,” she said, her tone taking on an animated lilt. “I asked several people at school for your name so I could write you a ‘thank you’ letter, but everyone I asked knew you as ‘Shadow’ and didn’t know your actual name.” She gave a gentle shrug. “I gave up after a few days. But man, looking at you closely now… it hit me like a lightning bolt. Your eyes — forever etched in my memory. You’re my shoe hero.”

Afam tittered. “Shoe hero?” He raised a brow.

“Yes o. That was my secret name for you.” She eyed him from head to toe, then her eyes bulged as if a sudden epiphany struck her. “So, you were the Afam who sent the Facebook request a few years ago?”

He nodded. “Yes, it was me.”

“Nna mehn! I would never have been able to guess it was you. You’re so different now.” She shook her head. “You were super skinny and petite … and now you’re …” She raised her hand above her head and then spread her fingers wide, indicating both height and width. “And your face? Where did all those pimples disappear to?”

Afam threw his head back and laughed. “Let’s just say I had a prolonged and traumatic puberty phase.”

Uloma grinned. “Well, it certainly turned out in your favour. You look amazing.”

Her straightforward compliment caused a flutter in Afam’s belly, thrilling him beyond measure. He loved women who weren’t afraid to speak their minds. Already, Uloma was ticking off his mental approval boxes.

“Thank you. And so do you,” he said, his face on fire from the pleasure of her compliment. 

She beamed at him, treating him to the beauty of her half-dimpled smile. “Thanks.”

Now filled with optimism after being so negative about this blind date, Afam pulled out Uloma’s chair and waited for her to settle in it before he sat down.

He was already looking forward to this not-so-blind date.

THE FAKE-DATING PACT

“Trust me, I’ve mastered the fake stiff laugh. That’s how I get along with my co-workers.” Uloma stretched her lips wide apart, emitting a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a groan, emphasising her point. “Even when I don’t get their jokes, I always do that.”

Afam’s laughter reverberated in the air, spreading chill bumps over her skin. Goodness, she loved how he laughed—so unabashedly, so freely.

For the past hour, she had been enjoying their dinner date, engaging in lively discussions over plates filled with spicy fried rice, crispy fried plantains, and tender roasted turkey. 

She couldn’t believe she was with Shadow, the guy in secondary school who rarely ever said a word. Now, he was different—confident, and surprisingly, quick-witted, too. His sense of humour, a little dark like hers, pleased her immensely.

He was also open about his life, which surprised her. Her three exes had been so guarded that talking to them had felt more like an interrogation than a conversation. 

Afam, on the other hand, told her about his struggles when he first started university in England. How he felt isolated because of his ebony black skin-tone and his accent. She could totally relate, which made the discussion a lot more fun. Despite being several shades lighter than him, she still had similar experiences of seclusion. 

He talked about his family, describing their close-knit nature and the occasional tendency to be overly involved. Having that also in common with him, she found it easy to contribute to that topic. Her parents were equally intrusive, hence this blind date.

Now, they were talking about their jobs. While his challenges as a doctor may differ from hers, they both experienced the same awkwardness of trying to fit into a predominantly white work environment.

“Me too,” Afam said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “My practice manager is Scottish. I don’t understand what she says half of the time, but I always smile and nod as if I do. Just so I don’t look dumb in front of everyone.”

Uloma took a sip from her glass of Merlot and twisted her lips in amusement. “What if you miss out something important because of that?”

His broad shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “I have a patient English colleague who entertains my questions after every practice meeting.”

At that, Uloma burst into laughter, nearly spilling her wine. “I also have a go-to-colleague who explains English jokes I don’t get. How is it that we have so much in common? Huh? It’s like we’re so meant to be on this date.”

 The comment slipped out of her lips before she could stop herself. Afam’s stiffening posture also confirmed the weight of her remark. She’d said something too forward… too personal.

Uloma pressed her lips together to stifle her annoyance with herself. Kai! Talk about looking too needy!

“So, what are we going to tell our parents about this…?” Afam pointed at himself and then at her. “Were they successful in setting us up? Are we going to really date?”

God! She’d gone and done it—acted all thirsty for a man. Now, Afam won’t take her seriously. Perhaps he’d think of her as one of those women desperate to find a husband at any cost. Which she wasn’t.

No way would she let him leave here thinking that about her. Tufiakwa!

“I have a boyfriend,” she blurted out.

This information from her struck him like a slap in the face. Afam lowered his fork and knife to his plate and picked up his glass of wine. He took a quick sip and swallowed, hoping to chase back the bitterness that hit the back of his throat.

He’d been enjoying himself so much with Uloma that it actually felt like a proper date to him.

They seemed to have such a great rapport and so many things in common that it felt easy talking to her. 

Their conversations flowed easily. Like they were close friends instead of just acquaintances from secondary school reuniting on this ‘blind date’.

Hearing that she was unavailable left a sour taste in his mouth, making him take another gulp of his drink.

“I… I agreed to this blind date to pacify my mother,” she carried on, her tone and demeanour a little flustered, as if she was suddenly uncomfortable in his presence. “They fix me up all the time and I haven’t told them about Steve yet… I just wanted to get them off my back.”

Afam heaved in a deep breath and let out a sharp exhale. He understood those sentiments. Matter of fact, he’d also done the same–agreed to this blind date just to shut his mother up.

However, he had not expected he’d be seeing the woman he’d spent most his adolescence secretly in love with, or that he’d actually enjoy her company.

“I understand,” Afam said, feeling deflated. He forced a smile that made the corners of his mouth ache a little. “We can just enjoy each other’s company tonight and tell them it didn’t work out between us. That should do the trick.”

Uloma nodded, but the hesitancy in her eyes showed she had another idea. What could it be? Was she one of those women who cheated on their boyfriends on vacations? Did she want to have a fling with him?

His stomach spasmed with repulsion at the thought. Afam despised infidelity. As someone who had been on the receiving end after his first girlfriend admitted cheating, he never wanted to be a part of that ever again.

“What if…?” Uloma began, halted, fiddled with her fork, looked away and then back at him. “Never mind.”

“Say it… What if what?” he asked, unsure he wanted to hear the answer to his question. 

He’d cut her off abruptly if she suggested having a holiday fling with him. He considered her attractive, no doubt, but he drew the line at dishonesty.

“What if we continue to see each other…pretend we’re dating, so our parents get off our case until we get back to the U.K.? It could make our stay a lot easier without them trying to fix us up with other people.”

Afam’s shoulders sagged as he felt an immense wave of relief wash over him. But it was short-lived. While he was relieved to hear that Uloma wasn’t after an affair with him, he wasn’t so sure he could continue to see her under false pretences without falling for her. He was already halfway there.

“I think it’s a situation that benefits both of us,” she said, with optimism in her eyes. “We get to enjoy each other’s company without any pressure from our families for the rest of our stay.”

Afam mulled it over in silence for several minutes. A fake relationship just to have some peace and quiet for the next three weeks wouldn’t be so bad. Would it? Especially since he already enjoyed being around Uloma.

Mind made up, he nodded and lifted his glass in salute to her. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Her face broke into a wide grin that showcased her gorgeous half-dimple. “Brilliant!” she said, clinking her glass with his.

Afam swallowed back a sigh. Although he was looking forward to spending more time with Uloma, he worried he would end up getting hurt. 

Butterflies skittered all over his tummy as he focused on her beautiful smile. 

Damn her boyfriend! He better know how lucky he is to have her.

THE FALLING IN LOVE PART

Uloma’s cheeks heated at the knowing look in her mother’s eyes, and she looked away. She wouldn’t give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her blush or letting her know that she’d made an excellent matchmaking pitch this time around.

“I can see you really like him,” her mother remarked, leaning against the doorframe.

Uloma rolled her eyes, turning from the mirror to face her mother. She was in her bedroom getting ready to see Afam for their planned outing at a tennis sports club in Trans-Ekulu.

Realising that he would be here to pick her up in a matter of minutes, she’d dashed upstairs to check her appearance one more time, hoping she looked okay.

Of course, leave it to her mother to notice her constant excitement whenever she was getting ready to see Afam. However, she couldn’t blame the nosey older woman. 

It was obvious she was going the extra mile to look good every time she had an outing with Afam. 

She had tried on different outfits multiple times today already, finally deciding on a comfortable yet stylish ensemble—a pair of eye-catching multicoloured leggings paired with a sleek red tank top that flattered her figure.

“Yes, Mum. I won’t be dating him if I didn’t, would I?” Uloma snorted.

“So, admit it. I was right to fix you up with him.”

Uloma shook her head, ready to deny her mother’s claims, but she couldn’t. In just two weeks of fake-dating Afam, she’d begun falling for him.

He was not only intelligent, but he was a good listener. Not just listening to respond, but actually taking everything that she said in, as if he really wanted to get to know her better. She loved being around him. 

Afam was kind and respectful to everyone, no matter who they were. He always remembered to address restaurant servers by name, and expressed gratitude without fail. She’d never met anyone quite like him. 

Once, when he was driving her back home through the flood, he’d deliberately slowed down to avoid splashing water on a man trekking along the road. Unfortunately, the driver behind them had shown no such decorum. He’d sped through, splashing rain water on the poor man.

Seeing Afam’s distress over that incident only strengthened her fondness for him. At that moment, she had to fight an almost unquenchable desire to reach across the front seat, pull him into her arms, and kiss him senseless until she calmed his ire.

Why on earth had she told him about Steve, a boyfriend she didn’t want any longer, a guy she needed to break up with as soon as she returned to Liverpool?

Made no sense. Except, of course, for the very reason she was still with Steve—the fear of getting hurt again like she had with her first boyfriend.

When Ese, the guy she’d dated throughout Uni, broke up with her to marry someone else, she’d vowed never to be vulnerable with any man again. Unwilling to put herself out there and risk her heart being broken again, she only entertained casual relationships. 

However, each passing day with Afam was chipping away at the barriers she had constructed around her heart. Uloma now wanted their relationship for real. She wanted more. But could she trust him? 

“Yes, Mum, you were right,” she said. “He’s a perfect match for me.”

Her mother beamed with self-assurance. “Good. Just make sure he marries you. Don’t let him waste time with that.”

Uloma burst out in laughter. “Hian! Mum! What makes you think I can control that?”

Mrs Anosike winked. “Every woman controls her man. The men just don’t know it.”

Uloma shook her head, her confidence in her decision solidified. Her mother had always held a strange perspective on relationships. The woman would have been a pain if she’d not agreed to fake-date Afam.

Hopefully, the next week would go smoothly with her pretend relationship, and soon she’d be on her way back to the U.K., free from her mother’s watchful eyes.

Afam served the ball and grunted in satisfaction as it flew over the net. Uloma’s speedy return impressed him immensely.  

He dashed across the tennis court, reaching out with his racket, only to miss the ball.

“Yes! I’m the queen!” she yelled, breaking into a victory dance. “The best! The GOAT! Call me Serena Williams, baby!”

“Oh, stop all that gloating! I’m just letting you win,” Afam grumbled, a smile on his face as he watched her winding her waist in jubilation and treating him to the wonderful sight of her curvy hips. 

“You wish!” She stuck out her tongue and swatted her racket in the air. “I’ve won every set. When are you going to admit it? I’m the best.”

Afam’s heart jumped at that comment, and he swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. She was right. She was the best. And not only in lawn tennis.

In just two weeks of hanging out with Uloma, he’d fallen for her. She was vivacious, intelligent, able to make fun of herself, playful, and the kind of woman he wanted.

In his teenage years, he had a crush on her. He’d been physically attracted to her without knowing her personally. 

However, as a full-grown man, her looks had absolutely nothing to do with the pounding of his heart whenever he saw her, or the quivering of his belly when she was near him. 

Okay, he was lying. Maybe her striking beauty added a little to his infatuation with her, but getting to know her had turned it into a full-blown emotional connection.

He had never fallen in love before, but he knew without a doubt that this was as close to the emotion as he would ever get.

They’d gone on several outings together, exploring Enugu town with the enthusiasm of tourists, even though they both grew up here.

Being with her had made him appreciate places he’d seen all his life. Ezeagu touring complex, Nike Lake resort and Polo Park all felt brand new and exciting because Uloma was by his side.

He wasn’t looking forward to her going back to a boyfriend that rarely even checked up on her. 

Yesterday, he’d spent almost an entire day with her without a single text from the okpo. What kind of douchebag wouldn’t text his girl for almost twelve hours?

Not him. If Uloma was his, he’d keep in touch regularly. Heck, she was just his pretend girl and he practically looked forward to texting, calling, and sending her funny memes.

“Okay, I admit it. You’re the best,” he said.

“Aha! I told you!”

Her cheery laugh tugged at his heartstrings. He wanted more alone time with her, somewhere with no distractions or the prying eyes of the people sitting in the corner, waiting to use the court after them.

“Want to head out to the lake for lunch?” he asked. “We could order from the restaurant and eat there.”

With the flood now completely gone, thanks to only a few light showers this week, they could finally enjoy a picnic outdoors.

“Of course, I’d love to. Thanks.”

Her eager response gave him hope. She also seemed excited to be with him. Maybe things between her and Steve weren’t great. 

Did he have a shot at turning their fake relationship into something real?

About thirty minutes later, they sat beside each other, munching on spiced barbecued chicken with canned sodas as they enjoyed the pleasant lake view.

Afam cast a sidelong glance at Uloma. She looked stunning in her colourful leggings and tank top. With her braided hair packed atop her head in a messy bun, her perfect facial structure and angular cheekbones were on full display. 

She bit into her chicken, her full lips on the soft meat, evoking the sudden image of her mouth on his skin.

His body pulsated with desire, and he shifted on the grass and placed a hand over the front of his shorts to hide his physical reaction to her.

Out of nowhere, he had an overwhelming need to burst his own bubble. Only one way to do it.

“Are you in love with your boyfriend?” 

She stiffened, his bald question obviously shocking her. With each passing second of her silence, he grew increasingly anxious about appearing too nosey, yet he wanted to know the painful truth, to rid himself of any lingering expectations.

Uloma shook her head. “No.” 

This time, he was the one to be stunned into silence. His startled reaction didn’t stop her from continuing.

“I’ve been with Steve for nearly two years, and now it’s become…” She shrugged, picked up her can of Pepsi, and took a gulp. “Comfortable. Like an old shirt that doesn’t fit, but you’re not sure you’re ready to throw it away.”

Encouraged by this, Afam decided to let go of his reticence. He plopped his chicken back on his plate, cleaned his hands with a wet wipe, and cupped her face. “Break up with him,” he said, his tone low and raw.

Her mouth parted in a shocked gasp. “Why? You can’t tell me what to d–”

He brushed his thumb across her jaw, cutting her off. “Am I crazy? Because I can sense we both know what’s happening between us isn’t fake anymore.”

She shook her head in denial, but the flash of longing in her eyes and the pulsating beat of her neck arteries let him know he was on the right track.

“I know what I’m feeling for you is real. I wake up every morning eager to see you, to hear from you, even if it’s just a text message, then go back to bed thinking about you.” Her breath hitched, drawing his attention to her full, succulent lips. “Please tell me I’m not alone in this?”

“Kiss me,” she breathed, her tongue swiping over her lower lip.

Afam’s eyes fixed on hers. God! It was tempting to obey her command. He wanted to dip his head and capture her mouth with his, to indulge in this moment, get a taste of heaven…

“Are you going to break up with Steve?” he asked, fighting the almost uncontrollable desire to let go of his reserve and savour the sweetness of her beautiful mouth.

She didn’t respond, her chest rising and falling as she breathed in and out, then a film of tears clouded her eyes, and she shook her head. “I don’t want to make any decisions now. Not when I’m not ready.”

Disappointment flooded Afam’s senses, but he understood. He, too, didn’t like to feel cornered about doing anything. Therefore, he needed to communicate his decision to her immediately.

“Then we can’t continue this fake-dating thing anymore, Uloma. It’s no longer fake for me because I’m falling in love with you.”

A teardrop slipped down her cheek, causing his chest to burn with sadness. Although it hurt to end things with Uloma, it was necessary for both of them to stop pretending.

THE END OF FAKE-DATING

“What do you mean it was a fake relationship? So, you were lying to your father and me?”

Uloma hated the betrayal in her mother’s voice, but she had no choice but to come clean to her parents. They were asking too many questions about Afam’s notable absence during her last week in Enugu.

“Mum, I’m sorry. We both decided it was the best way to have some peace and keep our parents off our backs.” 

“So, lying is better? Do you think I keep fixing you up with people out of hatred? No. I do it because I love you, because I want you to be happy. Why–”

Her father cleared his throat, interrupting his wife. He raised his hand and flashed an annoyed look her way. “Ndidi, please! Let me talk to our daughter alone.”

Uloma saw her mother’s posture stiffen as she glared at her husband. Then she shook her head bitterly and strolled out of the sitting room, leaving father and daughter alone.

“I’m sorry for deceiving you,” Uloma said, her voice trembling as her father turned to face her from where he sat on the brown sofa beside her.

He heaved in a long breath. “Uloma. You know your mother and I love you. We want you to be happy.”

She shrugged. “Who says I’m not?”

“But are you really? With Steve?”

Uloma’s mouth slackened and a shocked gasp erupted from her. How did her father know about Steve? She’d never told a soul about him, except…

“Please don’t be upset with Tosin. I pried that information from her when you were very ill with Covid and we had no way of getting in touch with you.”

Uloma thought back to that awful time. She’d been so alone and helpless. With Tosin far away in London unable to travel because of the lockdown, and having no relatives close by, it was tough. 

Steve had not bothered to check up on her for an entire week. She should have seen it as a sign that he cared little for her, but she had been too ill and too complacent to make a definite decision about ending things with him then.

“I had to call him to check up on you. What kind of boyfriend doesn’t know his girlfriend is gravely ill?”

Uloma sighed. She understood her father’s disappointment. She, too, had felt the same way.

“My darling daughter, I’m not saying you need a man to be happy,” her father continued in a solemn voice. “What I’m saying is that there’s no point being with any man that makes you unhappy.”

Uloma nodded. Her father was absolutely right. In two days, she’d be heading back to the U.K. She needed to set new priorities—to pursue her own happiness.

Afam smiled as he opened the door for his next-door neighbour. “Hey, Dave, nice to see you,” he greeted, hugging him and tapping him on the back. 

“Good to see you too, mate. How was your trip to Nigeria?”

Stepping aside for Dave to come in, he nodded. “It was lovely. Seeing family is always awesome. I miss them so much.”

“I bet you do. Must be hard being so far away.”

“It is. But after several years here, Manchester is now home to me.”

“Totally get it. Even though I travel to Ireland regularly, sometimes, it doesn’t feel like home to me.”

Afam nodded in understanding as they made their way to the living room of his three-bedroom semi-detached duplex in Irlam. He’d been so proud of himself when he made the down payment six years ago. With five more years to go on his mortgage, this property would soon fully be his.

“Want anything to eat or drink before we head out?” he asked Dave as they settled on the sofas opposite each other.

Dave shook his head. “No, thanks, mate. But what I’d really like to know is why you’ve suddenly changed your mind about following me for a night out.”

Afam’s lips twitched as he regarded Dave. He understood his surprise. The slender Irishman with red hair, grey eyes, and a bubbly personality had been overly friendly when Afam first moved into the neighbourhood.

At first, the man’s constant attempt to engage him in conversation irritated Afam. Dave always invited him out to go to the local pubs on weekends, but he always declined, not eager to socialise or make new friends.

However, since his return to the U.K. from Enugu two weeks ago, he’d vowed to be more proactive about meeting people. His time with Uloma stirred up a yearning for love and a meaningful relationship that he had long suppressed. In such a short space of time, he’d fallen for her. He constantly thought about her and missed her terribly. 

Despite this, he’d made a commitment to his mother on his departure from Enugu to take initiative in finding a life partner.

Afam now felt an intense longing to find love, and he resolved to break free from his self-imposed isolation and let his heart be vulnerable.

 The risk of a broken heart was worth the fulfilment of falling and being in love. Spending time with Uloma had been a transformative experience for him, shaping his perspective on life. He now longed for more. 

“I need to learn how to relax and have fun,” he said to Dave, keeping it simple.

Dave’s face broke into a wide grin. “Yeah, mate! That’s what I’m talking about.” He winked at him. “Maybe tonight we’ll meet some fit birds and get lucky.”

Fit birds. He wanted more than ‘fit birds.’ He wanted a woman just like Uloma–beautiful, smart, funny, ambitious and… a fit bird.

THE SECOND REUNION 

Uloma couldn’t believe what she’d set out to do. She’d practically turned herself into a stalker. What would he think about seeing her in the car park of his workplace?

He’d definitely call the police. God! She could have thought this through! But for the past three weeks, he’d been constantly on her mind. 

Slumping back onto the seat of her car, she blew out a sigh. Weeks after breaking up with Steve, she’d tried to muster enough courage to contact Afam Okunna, but she didn’t have his U.K. number or his address.

However, he’d told her where he worked. And for days, she combed the internet for any information about him.

As she learned more about him, her feelings for him grew even stronger. He was on the board of the association that supported international medical graduates trying to find their footing in a new country.

Besides his wholesome social media pages, his commitment to his job and community spoke volumes about his character. A man of integrity—the kind of man she wanted to be in a relationship with.

So, today, after her friend Tosin gassed her up over the phone, she’d taken a day off and driven for an hour to Manchester to find him.

She wanted him to know how she felt about him, that she wanted him, not Steve or any other man.

Sitting inside her car in the busy car park of Ingrid Medical Centre, she fixed her attention on the two-story white building with a gable style roof, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

For the past hour, she’d not seen him amongst the multiple people walking in and out of the entrance.

A few minutes later, her heart lurched when she spotted him stroll out, briefcase in hand, wearing pale blue scrubs that emphasised his athletic frame. 

Goodness! He looked so handsome. She’d really missed him.

What would he think about her being here? About what she had to say to him?

Pushing open the door, she stepped out of her car. 

Well, I’ll soon find out.

Afam gasped as his eyes landed on the woman walking towards him. His breath caught in his throat and his heart rate skyrocketed.

Uloma Anosike! Uloma Anosike in his workplace?! What on earth was she doing here?

God! He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. No, he hadn’t. The image of the woman approaching him in the red knee-length dress which hugged her slender frame, and long shapely legs tucked into shiny black pumps, had lingered in his mind for weeks. 

He still saw her pretty face in his dreams, still heard her voice everywhere, still stalked her social media pages, hungry for her.

No, he hadn’t forgotten a damn thing about her, and suspected he never would. She’d remain etched in his memory forever because he loved her. Maybe even since secondary school. 

He held his breath as she came closer, the automatic function of breathing normally becoming an almost impossible task.

“Afam,” she said breathlessly when she got to him. “I… I’m sorry for coming to your workplace unannounced. I just… I wanted to talk to you.”

He exhaled, pinning curious eyes on her. “Wh-what about?”

She glanced around and then back at him. “Can we go somewhere private?”

He hesitated for several beats and then nodded. “Yes. Let’s go to my office,” he said.

She followed him silently back into the building and into his office.

“So, what do you want to talk to me about?” he asked her as soon as they were alone in the moderately sized clinic room. 

He was wound so tightly from the shock and pleasure of seeing her again that he wanted to know immediately why she was here.

She hesitated, her fingers reaching to fiddle with the heart-shaped pendant of her necklace. He noticed her hand was trembling.

“I… I want to apologise once again for showing up unannounced… This was the only place I knew I could find you, and I—”

“It’s okay, Uloma. I’m not upset about it,” he cut her off, eager to hear what she was here to tell him. “What’s going on?”

She exhaled. “I… I’ll just say it—” She smoothed her palms over her dress, a gesture he’d seen her do whenever she felt anxious. But why? What was so difficult for her to voice out?

At that moment, as he gazed into her eyes, he saw it—the same myriad of emotions she’d shown when she asked him to kiss her by the lake. He felt the familiar blend of emotions swirling in his stomach—yearning, need, uncertainty, hope…  

“Say what? Talk to me, Uloma,” he rasped, ears itching to hear her admission that she felt exactly how he felt for her.

With a determined upward tilt of her jaw, she locked eyes with him. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Afam,” she said, her tone unwavering. “For a long time, I feared opening my heart to anyone. I was afraid of being hurt, so I stayed in a relationship I didn’t want or need.”

She dragged in a ragged breath, drawing his attention to her slender and graceful neck. “But seeing you again after all these years… It ignited a desire in me for more. Not just to feel love, but to feel passion, to know that I not only want to be with someone, but that I don’t want to be without them.”

Afam’s heart soared as he listened to her. Hanging out with Uloma in Enugu had also produced those feelings for him.

“I’ve ended that part of my life willing to settle for the bare minimum, and I want to strive for the best. And that’s you, Afam. I want to be with you, to try a genuine relationship with you if you’ll still have me. Will you?”

Overwhelmed with sheer joy, Afam eliminated the distance between them and hurled her into his arms. “You can’t possibly imagine how many times I’ve dreamt of seeing you again, of hearing you say this to me, Uloma. But the reality is so much better.” 

He lowered his head and captured her lips in a deep and passionate kiss that caused fireworks to explode between them.

Aware of their location in his office, he pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against hers, savouring the warmth of her quick breaths as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“In case you didn’t get it from the kiss, my answer is a whooping yes. Has always and will always be, yes, Uloma Anosike.”

Her soft giggles warmed his heart and thrilled him immensely.

 “I’m so happy to hear that, Afam Okunna,” she whispered. “So happy to be here with you. I’ve missed you so very much.”

“Same here, my sweet girl. Same here.”

THE CELEBRATION  

Bianca Okunna gazed at her Afam, her smile stretching so wide that her cheeks ached. Standing beside his Irish friend, Dave, and his younger brother, Chuka, he looked incredibly handsome in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo.

The long-awaited day had arrived–her firstborn son was finally marrying the woman he had fallen deeply in love with. A woman who had captured the hearts of the entire family. 

At first, Bianca was caught off guard when Afam contacted her from Manchester to reveal that he had unexpectedly reunited with Uloma in the U.K. Her annoyance stemmed from the realisation that Uloma and her son had fabricated a romantic relationship while in Enugu. The entire deception had left a bitter taste in her mouth, causing her to develop a dislike for the young lady.

Against all expectations, her son successfully convinced her that their relationship was authentic this time. Even so, she remained apprehensive. Given Afam’s track record in past relationships, she couldn’t help but feel a constant sense of worry, always anticipating the moment he would call and reveal that he had ended his relationship with Uloma. 

The fear of being let down again had caused her to hold back, unwilling to get her hopes up. 

However, with each passing day, she noticed her son’s relationship with Uloma growing deeper. They went on holidays together, got a dog named Skippy that they shared custody of, and recently moved into a new house located conveniently between their offices.

It was a delight to witness the unwavering bond between her son and Uloma develop. And when he called three months ago to say he wanted to propose, she had no doubts whatsoever. In fact, she gave him her full blessings. 

The love between Afam and Uloma was mutual and clear. Their understanding of each other made her completely certain they would have a glorious future together. 

Now, inside the cathedral of St. Paul’s Catholic Church in Enugu, the two lovebirds were ready to make their commitment official in the presence of God and their loved ones. 

Bianca reached across and clasped her husband’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. They were both in matching traditional outfits made of royal purple material, the groom’s colour of the day.

“Can you believe it? Our Afam is finally getting married,” she whispered, leaning towards him.

He grinned, his smile reaching his eyes. “I’m so happy that he’s found someone to love. Uloma is a wonderful woman. Just like you, my dear.”

She kissed his cheek. “I hope he makes her as happy as you’ve made me.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s a good man with a good head on his shoulders. They’ll be absolutely fine.”

She nodded in agreement, pleased that he felt the same assurance she had about their son’s union with Uloma.

Still holding her husband’s hand, she looked around the expansive church and beamed. Seeing the numerous friends and family members who had come to witness this incredible occasion filled her with an overwhelming sense of joy. 

The atmosphere was contagious, with everyone exuding an upbeat and excited vibe that matched her own.

Suddenly, the enchanting melody of the organ filled the room, pulling Bianca out of her thoughts. The wedding was about to start.

She turned to the entrance of the church and gasped, her eyes widening in awe. Walking into the building was Uloma, dressed in a stunning white wedding gown that flowed gracefully to her ankles. With its perfect fusion of lace and satin, the stunning dress emanated an ethereal beauty that would undoubtedly leave a lasting impression on everyone who saw it. Breathtaking.

Uloma’s father, looking sharp in a black tux, held her hand as they walked down the aisle. Her bridesmaids also looked stunning, but Bianca couldn’t take her eyes off the bride. She was like a heavenly vision, gliding towards the altar. 

The radiant smile on the younger woman’s face showed her own joy. It was obvious she was over the moon about marrying Afam. 

Bianca darted her gaze to her son to find him captivated by his bride, tears of happiness glistening in his eyes. She could feel tears welling up in her own eyes too. It thrilled her to see him so in love with his future wife.

Turning her gaze away from him, she spotted Ndidi Anosike comfortably seated on the other side of the rows of pews in the designated area for the bride’s family. 

The stylish mother of the bride commanded attention in an elaborate wine-coloured traditional attire. Her flamboyantly styled gele fanning out in all directions on her head, likely created a barrier for those seated behind her. 

As if sensing her perusal, Ndidi diverted her attention from her daughter to Bianca. 

In perfect synchrony, their faces burst into beaming smiles, mirroring each other’s happiness.

Bianca’s heart swelled with sheer pleasure as their gazes locked. “We did it,” she mouthed.

“Yes, we did,” Ndidi mouthed back. “They’re a match made in heaven.”

“And on earth. By two meddling mothers,” Bianca said under her breath, giving her a thumbs-up sign. 

With a grin plastered on her face, Bianca turned her focus back to her son and his lovely bride, who were now holding hands at the altar. 

It was still hard for her to believe that only a year and a half ago, she had orchestrated their meeting in a bustling hair salon with Ndidi Anosike, a woman she now saw as a beloved sister. They had devised such a successful matchmaking strategy on that fateful day. 

As she watched the couple standing at the altar, looking deeply into each other’s eyes while exchanging their vows, Bianca said a silent prayer of thanks for the plan that brought about this beautiful celebration of love.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amaka Azie is an award-winning writer of romance fiction set in tropical West Africa. She explores the beauty and intricacies of the continent in her sweet and sensual love stories. Born and raised in Nigeria, West Africa, she developed a passion for reading at the age of twelve. Her interest in writing began in secondary school when she joined the press club. Her active imagination has captured the interests of many. Her books showcase bold and exciting female and male main characters with compelling storylines. She was named one of the most influential authors under Forty by the Nigerian Writers Awards (NWA) for the years 2017 and 2018. Apart from getting lost in creating fascinating fictional characters, Amaka enjoys reading, painting and travelling with her family.

 She lives in the United Kingdom with her husband and daughters where she also practises as a part-time family doctor. 

You can interact with Amaka Azie on the following platforms:

Blog: https://amakaazieauthor.com/ 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15820434.Amaka_Azie

Facebook: http://bit.ly/AmakaAzieFacebook

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmakaAzie

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/amaka.azie/

Tick-tok: www.tiktok.com/@amakaazie

Mailing list: https://amakaazie.ck.page/6c51fd79c4?

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With publisher, Love Africa Press

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·      Be My Valentine anthology vol 1

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