After he was gone, silence fell.
Jackson looked at Ngozi. “You can do better, you know.”
Ngozi frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jackson looked away slightly. “I’m just a farmer.”
Ngozi stepped closer. “And I am just a village girl.”
She pointed at his chest. “But here…”
Then pointed at hers.
“…something is working.”
Jackson’s heart skipped.
She suddenly changed tone. “Also, who told you I like rich men?”
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “You literally shout it every day in the market.”
Ngozi paused. “That one is advertisement.”
Jackson burst out laughing.
That evening, they sat under their favorite tree. Soft wind. Golden sunset. Peace.
Ngozi leaned back. “You know people are talking.”
Jackson nodded. “I know.”
“They say I’m wasting my time.”
Jackson looked at her carefully. “And are you?”
Ngozi turned to him, smiled, then said dramatically, “If this is wasting time, then I want to waste it forever.”
Jackson felt something deep, strong, dangerous—something like love.
He leaned slightly closer.
Ngozi looked at him.
Their faces were close.
Too close.
Then suddenly, Ngozi jumped up.
“Ah! Mosquito!”
Jackson blinked. “Seriously?”
She slapped her arm. “These mosquitoes don’t respect romance.”
Jackson laughed so hard he bent over. “This girl…”
As night fell, Jackson stood outside his small house, looking at the stars, thinking.
This was no longer just an escape.
This was something else.
Something real.
He smiled softly and whispered, “I’m in trouble.”
Because for the first time in his life, Jackson Ekenna wasn’t afraid of losing money.
He was afraid of losing a girl.
Morning broke gently across the fields far away from Lagos, but Jackson was already awake—not because of the rooster this time, but because of his thoughts.
He sat outside his grandfather’s house, staring at his hands. The same hands that once signed billion-naira deals. Now holding nothing but simple dreams.
He exhaled slowly. “I’m in love.”
Then he quickly shook his head. “No. Calm down. Think like a CEO.”
Pause.
“But CEOs also fall in love.”
He stood up suddenly. “All right. Let’s do something crazy.”
Jackson walked toward the big tree where he and Ngozi always sat. He looked around, then picked a fresh green leaf. Carefully, slowly, he began to fold it, twist it, shape it.
Minutes later—
A ring.
Simple. Fragile. Meaningful.
He stared at it.
No gold.
No diamond.
Then smiled. “But it’s real.”
“Farmer Jackson!”
He didn’t even turn this time. “Come,” he said calmly.
Ngozi approached, suspicious. “Why are you behaving like a calm river? What are you planning?”
Jackson gestured. “Sit.”
