AKANNI POV
After the tour, she kept asking questions — especially about my relationship with Mira. I explained everything clearly, and she asked how I managed my time between the studio and the farm.
Later, she dressed up, ready to go home. Since I planned to drop her off, I changed into something casual.
At the sitting room, I saw Mira working on her PC — probably another order. She looked up with curious eyes.
"Going somewhere?" she asked.
"Yeah. I'm dropping Bukky off."
"You'll be back today, right?" she asked flatly. She had been different lately.
"Yeah. Just dropping her off."
She didn't respond. Instead, I held Bukky's hand and walked her out.
"What should I prepare?" Mira asked.
"What's on the table?" I asked.
"Fried yam and eggs."
"We'll have that," I said.
I opened the car door for Bukky, then walked to the driver's seat. Something made me glance back at the house — I saw Mira glaring at me before retreating behind the curtain.
Why was she acting so indifferent?
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at Bukky's estate. She cleared us in and directed me to her house. I honked lightly, and it hit me…
I was about to meet her parents.
A uniformed elderly man came out.
"Who are you? Oga no get appointment for Sunday. Come back later," he said.
"It's me — Bukky," she said, lowering the glass. "Good evening, grandpa."
"Ah! Aunty Bukky! Sorry o!" he said, rushing to open the gate.
"Who is there?" a woman asked from inside.
"It's Aunty Bukky!"
I parked where she told me. I came down to open her door and we walked toward her mum.
I bowed a little.
"Good evening, ma."
"Good evening, darling," she smiled warmly.
"Good evening, Mum," Bukky said, hugging her.
"You're welcome, baby. And you brought home…?" she asked.
"Oh, this is Akanni."
A girl — her sister — ran out and hugged me like she'd known me forever.
"Let's go in. I prepared dinner," her mum said.
"Oh, ma, I only intended—"
Bukky's mum shot me a sharp look, and I shut up.
"You're not coming to my house to leave immediately, are you?" she said.
"No… no, ma," I smiled weakly.
Bukky linked arms with me and dragged me inside, while her sister held my other hand.
It felt… right.
Like this was how it was supposed to be.
In the dining room, Bukky's father walked in — Mr. Lucas. The well-known business titan.
He looked strong for his age — broad chest, firm posture.
"Good evening, sir," I said respectfully.
"Hello, young man," he replied in a deep, steady voice.
"This is Akanni, sir. Your daughter's… friend," Bukky said.
"Hmm. I assumed," he said casually, pulling out a chair. "You're welcome to my home. Sit."
"Thank you, sir."
Dinner began. Surprisingly, they had prepared the exact meal Mira made — fried yam
and eggs. Bukky noticed my expression.
"What?" she whispered. "Not as good as your maid's?"
"No… I'm just surprised it's the same thing," I whispered back.
The maid asked for my drink order.
"Orange juice and room-temperature water, please."
She served it politely.
Bukky's mum smiled. "Oh, I forgot you're a studio manager. You don't joke with your throat."
"Yes, ma," I smiled.
The food was good — but not better than Mira's.
"And who is Mira?" her mother asked.
"His maid," Bukky replied.
"Oh! Akanni has a maid?" her sister said loudly.
"Please let him eat in peace," Mr. Lucas said.
"Sorry," her mum mumbled.
After dinner, we moved to the living room. Bukky sat on the arm of my one-seater chair, even though the sofa could take ten people.
"You're welcome to our home, Akanni," her mum said.
"Thank you, ma."
"Didn't know Bukky would settle things this early," her dad added.
"Dad!" Bukky said, blushing.
"Sure, you're acting responsible now," he teased.
"Dad, I'm always responsible," she protested. "I even handled your company for two years."
"Don't mind him," her mum said, nudging her husband affectionately.
"So… young man," Mr. Lucas leaned forward, "tell us about yourself."
I sat up, confident.
"I am Akanni. A studio manager at Fresh FM. Born and raised in Ado. Twenty-eight years old, with two younger siblings. My parents also live in Ado-Ekiti. And I am a Nigerian national baseball player."
"Wow," Mrs. Lucas said, smiling. "Look what we have here."
"That's good," Mr. Lucas nodded. "I won't ask for more in a son-in-law."
Bukky flushed deeply.
"So what are your intentions toward my daughter?" he asked.
"Good ones, sir," I said honestly. "Bukky is a good woman — raised well, independent, strong."
Her sister squealed, "That means we're planning a wedding soon!"
"Shut up!" Bukky snapped at her, though her cheeks were red.
We talked for hours — life, work, sports. Mr. Lucas narrated how he built his business from nothing, with his wife's support.
Then I checked my phone — several missed calls from Mira.
Bukky noticed.
"Akanni should start going," she said. "Before Mira eats him alive."
"Oh, he's going back tonight?" her mum asked.
"He should," Bukky said with sarcasm. "His maid might snap off his head if he delays."
"Oh, is that so?" Mr. Lucas said.