It started as harmless gist at the market square.
"Dem say one big man don enter town o!"
"Na true? Which big man?"
"They say he wear suit wey shine like morning sun!"
Olivia barely paid attention. She had too many worries to chase gossip. The corper's lodge had been closed since the last batch left, and she'd thrown herself into her little fabric stall to survive.
But the whispers grew closer — louder. The air suddenly shifted. Even the stubborn goats wandering near the stalls seemed to pause.
Then a black SUV stopped right in front of her stand.
A man stepped out.
Tall. Confident. Clean shave.
Blue suit, white shirt, dark shades.
Her heart forgot its rhythm.
It couldn't be.
Not after all these years.
The driver opened the rear door and the man removed his glasses slowly.
"Olivia," he said, voice deep but gentle, "you still sell fabrics?"
Her mouth opened but no sound came.
Chidera.
The market froze for a heartbeat. Every trader's gaze was locked on them. The whispers turned into excited hums — like bees circling honey.
Olivia managed to smile, half in disbelief. "You? In a suit?"
He chuckled softly. "I told you I'd come back better. Maybe not in khaki, but in something close."
He had changed — his walk, his tone, his aura. But the eyes… they were the same. The boyish, warm eyes that once helped her repair her leaking roof during his service year.
He stepped closer.
"Do you still get angry when people touch your stall without asking?"
She looked away quickly. "Why did you come back, Chidera?"
He hesitated, looking around at the crowd now forming. "Not here. Can we talk?"
And before she could protest, he added, "Under the mango tree. Like old times."
Her chest tightened. The same tree where he'd once said goodbye.
They walked in silence. The road to the mango tree was the same, though the tree looked older, fuller — just like them.
As they reached the shade, Chidera exhaled deeply, almost trembling.
"I thought I'd forget this place," he began, "but I couldn't. Every day, the memory of you and this soil followed me."
Olivia laughed softly but bitterly. "You had a funny way of showing it. You disappeared."
"I didn't mean to," he said quickly. "My parents… they made me leave sooner than expected. I wanted to write, but—"
"But you didn't."
A heavy silence fell between them. The hum of cicadas, the smell of dust after morning rain, the echoes of their youth — everything returned.
He pulled out a small khaki button from his pocket.
"I kept this. From the day I tore my uniform helping you fix that old door."
Her lips trembled. "You… still have that?"
"I never forgot."
He sat on the bench under the mango tree and looked at her directly.
"Olivia, I came back because I owe you the truth."
He told her everything.
That he was never just an ordinary corper.
That his family was wealthy — the kind of rich that could buy influence but not sincerity.
That he had come to the village under a different name, seeking freedom from his father's control.
"I didn't want to be the man everyone expected," he said. "But with you… I felt real. I felt seen."
Her eyes filled. "So all that simplicity was a lie?"
He shook his head. "No. The suit was the lie. The khaki, the laughter, the evening walks — that was me."
She looked away. "You hurt me, Chidera."
"I know," he said softly. "And I'm here to fix it, not with words, but with proof that I still mean what I said that last night."
He stood, took a slow step toward her, and his voice lowered to a trembling whisper.
"Olivia… I came to ask you something. Not as a corper. Not as a man in a suit. But as me."
He knelt slightly, half laughing at his own nerves.
"Date me. No secrets. No uniforms. No pretending. Just us — the version that laughs in the rain and argues about fufu."
Olivia blinked, stunned. "You're mad."
"Completely," he smiled. "Mad about you."
She tried to act composed, but her lips quivered. "And if I say no?"
"Then I'll come every market day till you say yes."
The audacity in his tone made her laugh — the same laugh that had drawn him to her years ago.
The sun was almost gone now. The mango leaves swayed softly.
She stepped forward, crossing the space between them.
"Fine," she whispered. "But you'll carry your own water and wash your own clothes."
"Deal," he said instantly.
He smiled, slipping off his jacket and throwing it playfully over her shoulders. "Now you're the one in the suit."
She rolled her eyes. "You're still dramatic."
"And you still love it."
Their laughter filled the quiet evening.
For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all — just two souls picking up where they left off.
And as the first stars appeared, she realized something deep within:
She hadn't chosen the wrong person after all… only the one who needed time to find his way back.