The company cars were newer, his clothes were more expensive, and his bank account was bigger. But there was one thing that still troubled his heart. Something that money couldn’t buy.
He was still without a child. After throwing Ngozi out, he had expected his life to move on quickly. He believed once he got a new woman, one who could give him children, everything would fall into place.
But it didn’t. He had dated three different women in the last three years. None of them got pregnant.
One even left him after a year, saying she couldn’t live in a house where the man’s mother treated her like a baby factory. His mother, Mama Chaik, was now older but still sharp with her tongue. You’re not serious, she always said.
You’re choosing fashion over family. When I picked Ngozi for you, I told you to be patient. You were the one who ran her off.
Chaik would always grow angry. Don’t mention that woman to me again. But late at night, when everyone had gone home and the house was quiet, his mind would wander.
Where was she now? Did she remarry? Did she find joy? One morning, while scrolling through Instagram, he saw a picture that froze him. A baby’s leg. Then another photo, tiny fingers holding a woman’s thumb.
He stared at the pictures, trying to be sure. The hand in the photo looked like Ngozi’s. The skin, the way she held the baby.
It couldn’t be. No, it’s just coincidence, he told himself. But he kept thinking about it.
So he decided to block it out with something stronger. Another woman. That same week, his friend Kunal called him.
Guy, there’s someone you need to meet, Kunal said over the phone. Who? Chaik asked lazily. Her name is Adorora.
She just moved back from Lagos. Fashion designer. Rich family.
Very fine. Very classy. And guess what? She wants a serious man.
Not just all those Instagram boys. Chaik laughed. You’re selling her like she’s a car.
I’m serious, Kunal said. She’s different. You’ll like her.
Chaik sighed. Fine, set it up. They met at a fancy restaurant two nights later.
Adorora was exactly as described. Tall. Beautiful.
With long curly hair and nails painted gold. She wore a gown that looked like it came straight from Paris. But what caught Chaik’s attention wasn’t her looks.
It was the way she spoke. Confident. Bold.
Like someone who knew what she wanted. So, you’re the famous Chaik, she said with a small smile, swirling her wine glass. And you’re the Adorora everyone keeps talking about, he replied.
They spoke for two hours. About business. About travel.
About life. But the topic Chaik brought up, almost by force, was family. I’ve been ready for children since forever, he said.
I just haven’t found the right woman. Adorora raised her brow. You were married before, right? Yes, Chaik said quickly.
But she… she couldn’t give me a child. We tried. For years.
Adorora said nothing. She just nodded. Then she smiled again.
I’m not in a hurry. But I do want children. Maybe two.
Or three. Chaik’s heart jumped. Same here.
Within a month, they were seen together everywhere. At weddings. At business launches.
Even at church. People started whispering. Chaik has finally moved on.
He started spoiling her. Buying her dresses. Phones.
Even a car. One day, Adorora said, let’s not waste time. If we’re serious, let’s do it.
Do what? Chaik asked. Marriage, she said, sipping her juice like it was nothing. Chaik stared at her.
You’re ready? I’m a grown woman, she said. I know what I want. I don’t believe in dating for 10 years.
If you want me, show me. That night, Chaik called his event planner. The wedding preparations began immediately.
Everything had to be perfect. It was going to be the biggest wedding in town. Red carpet.
Rolls Royce. A live band from Ghana. Guests flying in from Abuja and Dubai.
Chaik was obsessed with making the wedding grand. Not just for love. But to prove something.
To his friends. To his mother. To the world.
He wanted everyone to see that he had moved on. That his life was better without Ngozi. And deep down, a small voice whispered he wanted Ngozi to see it too.
One afternoon, as he sat with the wedding planner going through the guest list, Chaik paused. Add one more name, he said. Who? The planner asked.
He picked up a pen and wrote it himself. Ngozi Eze. The planner raised her brow.
Your ex-wife? Chaik didn’t explain. He just smiled coldly. Send her the invite.
First class. I want her to be there. Front seat.
Meanwhile, Adorora was planning her own side of things. She had ordered her wedding gown from a designer in Milan. The lace cost more than some people’s cars.
Her bridesmaids were already rehearsing their dance steps. Her bridal shower was to be held at a beach resort. To the world, she was glowing.
But behind closed doors, Adorora was getting worried. She had been trying to get pregnant for months. Nothing.
Every morning, she checked her calendar. Every evening, she stared at test kits. All negative.
The most important part is just ahead — click NEXT »»
