The sun rose over Ipetu-Ode with the same golden glow, but today the village seemed even more alive than usual. Word traveled fast, and the aunties had been busy. They whispered in every corner, arranged small meetings, and recruited neighbors to "encourage" Zainab toward Kunle.
Zainab tried to ignore them. She was arranging yams at her shop when Auntie Funke appeared with her signature dramatic flair.
"My dear," Funke said, hands on hips, "it's time to consider your future seriously. Kunle Adebayo is a good man—educated, strong, kind… and he wants someone just like you."
Zainab groaned. "Auntie, I am not ready for any of this! Let them talk all they want. I don't care."
Funke clucked disapprovingly. "Don't be foolish. Love and opportunity do not wait for stubborn girls!"
Before Zainab could respond, two more aunties appeared, nodding vigorously. "She's right," one said. "Time is precious. Don't waste your youth!"
Zainab's stomach twisted. Everywhere she turned, eyes seemed to watch, whisper, judge. She wanted to scream, but instead, she sighed. This was Ipetu-Ode—resisting the village was like resisting the tide.
Meanwhile, Kunle had his own challenges.
Tunde, brimming with jealousy, had been lurking around the market, pretending to buy fruit but clearly observing Zainab. His glare followed every movement she made, and he made no secret of his displeasure at seeing Kunle near her.
Sola nudged Kunle as he arrived at the market. "Bro, Tunde's growing more dramatic by the minute. Watch your step."
Kunle sighed. "I don't want trouble, but I won't leave her to be intimidated either."
The tension was palpable. Zainab noticed it too, her pulse quickening each time she saw Tunde's shadow.
By noon, fate intervened in the form of a small accident.
A basket of yams toppled near Zainab's feet, scattering across the dusty street. She bent down quickly, muttering a curse under her breath.
"Allow me," Kunle said calmly, kneeling to help her gather the yams.
Their hands touched briefly. Zainab's heart skipped, but she focused on the task. Kunle's presence was steadying, grounding.
"You're very patient," Kunle said quietly, his eyes meeting hers.
Zainab straightened, cheeks flushing. "I have to be," she replied softly. "Life has taught me patience… whether I like it or not."
Tunde appeared, scowling. "Why is he always around you?" he demanded.
Zainab stepped back. "He's not always around. Please, Tunde, leave me alone."
Kunle placed himself slightly in front of her, not aggressively, but firmly. "There's no need for trouble."
Tunde's jaw tightened, but he muttered, "This isn't over," and stormed off.
Zainab exhaled heavily, her heart still racing.
That evening, Zainab and Kunle found a quiet moment walking through the village, away from gossip and aunties.
"You handled Tunde well today," Kunle said softly. "I admire your courage."
Zainab laughed faintly. "I didn't do anything. He's just… persistent."
Kunle smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Persistence is different when it's directed at the right person," he said quietly.
Zainab's heart skipped again. The words, the warmth in his voice, the gentleness in his eyes—it all felt like a small confession. She realized she was slowly letting someone into her heart again, and for the first time in years, it didn't scare her.
That night, as she lay in bed, Zainab thought of Kunle's calm demeanor, his patience, and the way he seemed to see her, not just the surface but the person beneath. Somewhere between village chaos, matchmaking aunties, and jealousy-fueled threats, two hearts were weaving a bond. Quiet, careful, and growing stronger with each stolen glance and gentle word.