Morning arrived quietly over the compound.
For the first time in many months, I woke before the sun without feeling the weight of uncertainty in my chest.
Instead, there was a strange warmth in my heart — the kind that only appears when a dream has taken its first real step toward becoming reality.
Precious had said yes.
The memory of the previous night replayed again and again in my mind.
Her laughter.
Her tears.
The way she hugged me so tightly beneath the neem tree.
I stepped outside the house slowly.
The compound looked the same as it always had.
The old veranda.
The wooden gate.
The dusty path leading toward the road.
But something about it felt different.
Perhaps it was the quiet joy in the air.
Or perhaps it was simply that I now looked at this place not just as a visitor…
…but as a man who would soon become part of the family.
The neem tree stood calmly in the center of the compound.
The same tree that had witnessed our promise.
As I walked toward it, I noticed someone already sitting beneath it.
Dadman.
He held a cup of tea in his hand and stared at the rising sun.
"Good morning," he said without turning.
"Good morning, sir."
I sat beside him.
For a moment we watched the sky slowly brighten.
Then he spoke again.
"You love my daughter."
It was not a question.
"Yes," I replied.
He nodded slowly.
"Love is easy to promise," he continued.
"But building a life together is much harder."
His words carried the weight of experience.
"Do you believe you are ready for that responsibility?"
I thought carefully before answering.
"No man is ever completely ready," I said honestly.
"But I am willing to learn."
For the first time that morning, Dadman smiled.
"That," he said quietly, "is the right answer."