As I walked down the quiet street, the sound of birds chirping filled the cool, crisp evening air. This was my usual routine an evening stroll I had come to cherish. There's something almost magical about it, something that lifts my spirit in a way I can't quite explain. With my favorite song playing softly from my phone, the moment felt even more perfect.
Thirty minutes had already passed. It was time to start heading back,it always took me about an hour to complete the walk. I had just turned around when I heard a voice call out.
"Hello."
Startled, I raised my head. "Hi," I replied, my gaze meeting the eyes of the most handsome man I had ever seen.
"Good evening," he said with a warm smile.
"Good evening," I responded, heart fluttering.
"Can I get your number?" he asked confidently.
"Sure," I said, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips.
He handed me his phone, and I typed in my number.
"I'm Justin," he said.
"I'm Chioma."
"Okay, I'll call you," he promised.
With that, I continued my walk, but my mind lingered on him.
Just then, Dandelions by Ruth B. played in my ears, the lyrics wrapping around me like a warm hug: "And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime, and I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine…"
Suddenly, the music stopped. I looked down at my screen. Shoot! A missed call from Mom. It rang again.
"Hello, Mom. Good evening," I said, answering quickly.
"How are you, my dear?" she asked.
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Did you see the money I sent you?"
"Yes, Mom. Thank you so much."
"You're welcome," she replied warmly.
When I finally got home, I sank onto my flat bed, still holding my phone tightly, like it was the most precious thing in the world. My mind replayed that moment over and over the face of the man I had just met. Justin. Something about him felt... different.
Days turned into weeks, and with each one that passed, the weight of not landing the job I had applied for pressed heavier on my shoulders. I tried to keep hope alive, but hope doesn't pay the bills or fill the silence in your chest.
Every morning, I woke up and tried to convince myself that something good was coming. But it was hard. Hard to keep smiling, hard to stay motivated, and hardest of all to believe in myself when every application went unanswered. I had taken up cleaning jobs to keep afloat, jobs that barely covered the basics. Still, I showed up every day, even when my spirit didn't.
As for Justin, I had stopped expecting his call. I'd written him off like the many others before him,those smooth talkers who ask for your number just to stroke their ego, then disappear without a trace. It was almost cliché at this point. I told myself not to care, and maybe I really didn't... until my phone rang.
I glanced at the screen an unknown number.
"Hello?" I answered cautiously.
"Hey… good evening."
"Good evening. Who am I speaking with?"
"Oh, you've already forgotten me? I don't blame you, though… it's Justin."
The name hit me like a wave. Justin. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart began to pound like it recognized the name before I did.
"Are you there?" he asked, his voice deep, smooth, and calm like someone who carried quiet strength.
"Y-yeah, I'm here."
He chuckled slightly, low and warm. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner. Things got hectic real quick. I had an urgent issue at work, and I had to move back to Lagos for a while. It wasn't planned."
There was something in his tone ..controlled, firm, yet honest. No excuses, just facts. He spoke with the kind of presence that made you want to sit up straight. I could almost picture him: tall, sharp jawline, sleeves rolled up, taking charge of a situation like it was second nature.
"I get it," I said. "Life happens."
He sighed. "It wasn't just life. It was a storm. But I'm getting things back in order now."
We talked for a while. I told him about the job that never came, about the cleaning work I was doing just to stay afloat. He listened,really listened and asked questions that made me feel seen.
"Cleaning takes more strength than most people realize," he said. "The discipline alone… it's not easy to keep pushing when you're under pressure. You're tougher than you think."
He didn't say it like he was trying to impress me. He said it like he knew. Like he had been there.
Later that evening, after I got home, he called again. We talked for hours about things we cared about, things we dreamed of, even the random stuff in between. The conversation flowed like we'd known each other for longer than just one evening walk and a single call.
And just like that, something shifted. It wasn't just a call anymore....it was the beginning of something I hadn't dared to hope for in a long time.