Sola lay on her mat long after the moon had risen high. The night was quiet, but inside her, there was no rest. She turned from side to side, her mind heavy with thoughts.
Why did she keep seeing Kunle's eyes? Why did her chest beat so fast when he looked at her? She was a married woman. Tunde was her husband, even if far away. Yet, her body did not listen to reason. It listened to the memory of Kunle's strong hand holding hers at the stream.
Sola pressed her face into the pillow and whispered, "God, forgive me." But the ache of loneliness remained.
When the first cock crowed, she rose. She swept the compound, fetched firewood, and lit the cooking fire. Her hands worked, but her heart was heavy. She remembered what Mama Bisi had told her—be careful, people are talking. The whole village had sharp eyes and sharper tongues.
Later that morning, she walked to the market square. Women were already gathered, selling peppers, yams, and palm oil. Their voices rose like birds in the trees. As Sola passed, she felt their eyes on her. Some smiled politely. Others whispered behind their hands.
Her chest grew tight. She knew what they were saying. She had seen the looks. In Orua, nothing stayed hidden.
"Kunle carried her pot again," one woman muttered.
"Hmmm," another replied, clicking her tongue. "A lonely wife is like ripe fruit. If you don't guard it, someone will pluck it."
Sola's ears burned. She quickened her steps, bought what she needed, and hurried home. Inside her hut, she sank onto the bed, covering her face. Shame washed over her, yet beneath it, another feeling stirred—a dangerous warmth.
That evening, as the sun slid low, Sola went again to the stream. She told herself she would go quickly, fetch her water, and return without delay. But when she reached the path, her heart skipped. Kunle was there, waiting with his basket.
Their eyes met. For a moment, she wanted to turn back. But her feet moved forward.
"You came late," Kunle said softly.
"I was busy," she answered.
He walked beside her in silence. When they reached the stream, she bent to fill her pot. The cool water splashed over her hands, but her mind was far away. She felt his eyes on her back, steady and strong.
"Do you ever feel," Kunle began slowly, "like the world is too empty?"
Sola froze. She lifted the pot, water dripping down her arms. She turned to him. His face was calm, but his eyes were full of something deep.
"Yes," she whispered.
They stood in silence, the sound of rushing water between them. Then Kunle stepped closer. He took the pot from her hands and set it on the bank. His fingers brushed hers, sending a shiver through her.
"You don't have to carry everything alone," he said.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her chest rose and fell. For a heartbeat, she thought he would pull her into his arms. Her whole body wanted it. But then she stepped back quickly.
"No," she said, her voice trembling. "This is wrong."
Kunle's jaw tightened. He nodded slowly. "I know."
They walked back in silence, the distance between them wide though their hearts burned close. At her door, he placed the pot down. For a moment, their eyes held again, heavy with what could not be spoken. Then he turned and left.
That night, Sola lay awake once more. She touched her lips, as if remembering a kiss that never came.
Days passed. She tried to avoid him. She left for the stream early, when the mist was still thick, hoping not to meet him. But one morning, as she bent to fill her pot, she heard footsteps. She looked up, and there he was.
"You rise before the sun now?" he asked with a faint smile.
She swallowed. "I must work early."
Kunle crouched beside her, dipping his hands in the water. "You can run from me, Sola. But can you run from yourself?"
His words cut deep. She lowered her gaze. "You don't understand."
"I understand too well," he said quietly. "I know what it is to feel alone, even when people surround you. I know what it is to ache for something you cannot have."
She stared at him. For the first time, she saw the sadness in his eyes. He was not just a strong man. He was a lonely one too.
When they returned to the village, the sun was rising. A few people saw them walking together, and whispers began again. Sola heard the sharp laughter of two young women behind her. Her cheeks burned.
By afternoon, Mama Bisi came knocking. She leaned close, her voice sharp. "Sola, do you want to destroy yourself? People are talking more and more. If Tunde hears… if his family hears… you will be shamed. Be wise, my daughter."
Sola forced a nod, though her stomach twisted.
That night, as she sat outside her hut, she saw Kunle pass with his firewood. He slowed, as if wanting to speak. Their eyes met across the quiet compound. She should have turned away. But she didn't.
Instead, she rose and walked toward him.
They stood in the shadows, the moonlight pale on their faces. For a long time, neither spoke. Then Kunle whispered, "Tell me to go, and I will go. But if you ask me to stay…"
Her breath caught. She looked at him, her heart fighting her mind. Her lips trembled.
"Stay," she whispered.
And in that single word, the fire they had been holding back finally found its spark.
This chapter leaves us on a strong cliffhanger: Sola finally gives in and asks Kunle to stay.
What did you think that will happened in chapter three?, please don't forget to drop a power stone for more encouragements to me, without waiting,Let move to chapter three immaculately to discover more about this novel