Her name was Adesuwa. To most people, she was the perfect picture of wealth and power. Born into a family where money solved every problem, she had grown up shielded from struggle. People envied her beauty, her lifestyle, the way her presence demanded attention wherever she walked.
But behind the confidence, Adesuwa carried scars no one could see. Money surrounded her, yet loneliness never left her side. People wanted her wealth, not her heart. So she learned to build walls—thick ones—trusting no one, letting no one too close. Pride became her weapon, and sometimes, her prison.
That pride was what kept her steady as she stumbled away from the bar that night. Her head spun from the drinks, but her chin stayed high, as if to prove she was still in control. She hated the whispers, the stares, the way strangers judged her. If only they knew what it felt like to live in her skin.
Then she saw him again—the beggar. Daniel. At least, that was what he called himself.
He was still standing there, a calmness in his eyes that didn't fit his rags. She hated how steady he seemed compared to her wobbling steps.
"Why are you still here?" she asked, her voice sharp though her balance betrayed her.
He shrugged. "Because you're still here."
She rolled her eyes. "What do you want from me? A reward? A thank you? Forget it."
His lips twitched, almost into a smile. "I didn't ask for any of that."
Her chest tightened with irritation. No beggar she had ever seen spoke this way—without begging, without desperation. His words felt too measured, too sure.
Before she could say more, a group of young men approached from the corner. Their voices were loud, their laughter rough. One of them whistled.
"See fine madam. Drunk and shining," another said with a grin.
Adesuwa's stomach sank. She straightened her back, but her legs betrayed her again.
Daniel's eyes narrowed. He stepped slightly in front of her.
"Keep walking," he said firmly.
The men laughed. "And who are you? A street rat? Shift before we shift you."
Adesuwa's pride screamed at her not to show fear, but for the first time that night, her hand tightened on Daniel's arm.
He didn't look at her. His eyes stayed locked on the men, his voice calm but cold. "She's not yours to trouble. Walk away."
The leader smirked, stepping closer. "Or what?"
Daniel's jaw tightened. For the first time, Adesuwa wondered who exactly she was leaning on. No ordinary beggar spoke like that. No ordinary beggar stood that steady in the face of danger.
Something about him didn't add up.
And she was about to find out.