The next morning , soft sunlight came in through the curtains and settled on the cracked cement floor. Helen woke up early, but she still laid down for sometime, listening to her husband breathing beside her.
A small guilt hit her, the kind that came without warning.
She shook it off quickly.
She did not do anything wrong.
She quietly got up from the bed and went outside to begin the morning chores. As she was sweeping the compound, she looked at the mango tree. The stone was still there, nobody had touched it. The business card was still hidden beneath it.
She was calm and forced herself to stop looking at it.
By the time she reached the market, the day had already started. Hawkers shouted prices, vehicles moved recklessly, and traders arranged their goods in their shops.
Lola was already at her stall.
"You're late," she said playfully as Helen approached.
"I am not that late," Helen replied, dropping her basket.
Lola raised an eyebrow. "For you, this is late. What happened? Your husband kept you busy?"
Helen nearly choked. "Lola!"
Her friend burst into laughter. "I am joking, Or maybe I'm not."
Helen forced a smile, but her mind was elsewhere. She arranged her vegetables and fruits slowly, hands unsteady.
Lola noticed.
"You have been acting strange since yesterday," she said, in a low tune. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You are lying."
Helen stopped arranging the fruits and vegetables and looked at her friend. "I am not lying."
"Then why are your eyes looking like someone who did not sleep?"
Helen tried to laugh. It came out weak.
Lola's expression softened. "Helen, whatever is the problem, be careful."
Helen didn't answer, because she knew Lola was right. She was troubled, more than she wanted to agree.
Business moved smoothly in the morning. Customers bargained aggressively as usual, and Helen forced herself to smile through it all.
But every time the sound of an engine roared nearby, her heartbeat increased.
Every time she saw a black SUV, her heart beat harder. She hated that reaction, She hated how easily she thought of him.
The morning passed and by noon, she felt drained. She sat down on her wooden stool and wiped sweat from her forehead.
Then she heard the low, smooth hum of a powerful engine approaching. Her heart pounded.
No, It can not be, but when she looked up, it was real. The same black SUV was driving into the market.
Lola's mouth fell open. "Helen. Your village people have come. "Helen's throat went dry.
The car slowed, then parked beside her stall exactly as it had the day before. The window wined down slowly, and there he was.
Alex, Dressed in a rich blue kaftan, gold necklace resting on his chest, he was putting on sunglasses.
"Good afternoon," he said with a warm smile.
Helen's mind skipped, market women murmured and watched. Some nodded in admiration; others stared with suspicion.
Lola elbowed her sharply. "Greet him, na!"
Helen swallowed. "Good afternoon, sir."
"Ah-ah, no 'sir' between us," he chuckled. "Just call me Alex." She forced a nod.
He removed his sunglasses, revealing eyes full of bold interest. "I was in the area and thought I should check on you."
Check on her? Helen almost laughed. Since when did wealthy men check on market women?
But the way he said it smoothly, confidence made the words feel believable.
He glanced at her table. "How is the market today?"
She hesitated. "Slow."
He smiled. "Then let me help make it faster."
He stepped out of the car, his presence was drawing more attention. He walked to her stall and picked up a basket of tomatoes.
"How much?"
"Three thousand, sir, I mean, Alex."
He nodded. "Okay. I'll take ten baskets."
"Ten?" Helen gasped. "Alex, I… I don't even have that many." "Then sell me everything you have," he said simply. "All." Everything.
Lola whispered loudly, "Holy Spirit take control."
Alex turned and snapped his fingers. His driver emerged from the car with a thick envelope.
Alex handed it to Helen casually, as if giving out envelopes full of money was as normal as buying sachet water.
"Keep the change," he said.
Helen looked at the envelope like it was a live bomb.
"Why… why are you doing all this?" she asked quietly.
Alex smiled. "Because you are supposed to be treated with kindness, Helen. And because I can."
Her heart beat very hard. This was too much.
Too fast, too dangerous.
But the thrill, the intoxicating rush was undeniable.
He winked gently. "Call me later."
Then he got back into his car and drove away, leaving behind a cloud of dust, whispers, envy, admiration, and the pounding in Helen's chest.
Lola grabbed her arm immediately. "HEL.ENE. This is not ordinary. This man is not here for vegetables and fruits, He wants you!", Helen was shaking. "I know."
"So what will you do?"
"I don't know."
"You should avoid him."
"I know."
"But your eyes are saying the opposite."
Helen looked away, ashamed.
Yes, Her eyes and heart said the opposite.
Her reality, her poverty, said the opposite.
Helen shook her head. "Helen… there are roads you don't step on unless you're ready for where they end."
Helen looked down at the envelope. She didn't have to open it to know it contained more money than she and Philip could save in months. Her chest tightened.
The temptation was becoming heavier than the warnings around her.
When Helen returned home that evening, she hid the envelope deep inside a pile of old clothes in the small cupboard. Her hands were shaking as she folded them over it.
In the sitting room, Philip was repairing the children's school sandals with thread and needle.
He looked up. "You're home late today."
"Market was busy," she replied quickly.
He smiled. "Good. At least God is opening ways."
Helen forced a smile back.
Then she noticed the small blister on his thumb from the needle.
Guilt stabbed her, sharp and sudden.
Philip worked hard, Too hard And yet, life remained tight, stubborn, unforgiving.But the envelope…
That envelope could pay rent for months. It could fix the roof. Buy better clothes for the children. Ease the weight on their shoulders.
But at what cost?
Helen stared at her husband's tired face, the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet love he carried like a second skin.
She turned away quickly. Because if she looked too long, she might remember who she used to be.
That night, after everyone had slept, Helen went outside again. The compound was silent except for the distant barking of dogs.
She picked up the business card from beneath the rock.
Her thumb traced the embossed letters.
She didn't call him.
But she didn't throw the card away either.
Instead, she slid it into her nightie pocket, close to her skin.
As she stood under the moonlight, the weight of temptation pressed against her.
The seed had sprouted.
And whether she liked it or not…
It was growing.
The rest of the week crawled forward with a heaviness Helen couldn't shake. Even when she tried to bury herself in work, her mind kept taking back to the SUV, the envelope, the card, the way Alex had looked at her like she mattered.
By Saturday morning, the tension inside her felt like a thread pulled too tight.
She stood at the big washing basin behind the house, scrubbing clothes with unnecessary force, beating the fabric against the bowl until soapy water splashed everywhere.
Philip approached quietly from behind. "You will tear the clothes like that."
"I'm fine," she said too quickly.
He tilted his head slightly. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Philip, please."
He hesitated, then nodded and went to fetch water from the tap.
Helen watched him for a moment. He looked older than his age, but he worked without complaint.
It should have softened her, made her feel grateful.
But the more she watched him, the heavier her chest felt. A guilt she didn't want, a frustration she couldn't name.
She dipped her hands back into the soapy water, but her mind was far from the basin.
At the market that afternoon, the whispers were louder than usual.
"Helen, your man didn't come today?"
"Hmm, don't pretend. Everyone saw the SUV."
"Be careful o. Men like that spoil marriages."
"She's lucky jare. Some of us haven't even seen a man with car talk less of…"
"Alex has money. Serious money."
"She should just follow him. Poverty is not a husband."
The women laughed, some playfully, some jealous, some genuinely concerned.
Helen ignored them, even though each comment pierced her like a needle.
Lola finally snapped. "All of you should leave her alone. Does she look like someone ready to run away with any man?"
Helen arranged her vegetables in silence, her heart beating harder with every passing minute.
Because deep down…
she feared the women might see the truth before she admitted it to herself.