“Come in,” he said.
His assistant, Kletchi, stepped in, tablet in hand, already speaking.
“Sir, you have a 9:00 a.m. meeting with the board, 10:30 with the investors, and—”
“Cancel everything.”
Kletchi froze.
“Sir… everything?”
“Yes.”
“For today?”
“For a week.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Sir, the board won’t—”
“I said cancel it.”
His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried weight. Final.
Kletchi nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
As she turned to leave, he added, “And don’t tell anyone where I’m going.”
She hesitated. “You’re traveling?”
Namdi gave a small smile. “I’m going home.”
Two hours later, his black SUVs sped out of the city.
The buildings slowly gave way to open roads. The noise faded. The air changed.
For the first time in months, Namdi rolled down the window. Fresh air rushed in, carrying the scent of earth, trees, and something else—something familiar.
He closed his eyes briefly.
“This,” he whispered, “is what I’ve been missing.”
By the time he reached his village, the sun had risen fully, bathing everything in warm gold. The road to his family compound was narrow and dusty, lined with mud houses, palm trees, and people who still greeted each other by name.
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