As they walked, their shoulders brushed lightly. Not intentional, but neither of them moved away.
Suddenly, Amara’s foot slipped on a loose patch of sand.
“Ah—”
Before she could fall, Namdi reacted quickly, catching her by the waist.
Her body stilled.
His grip tightened instinctively.
Their faces were close.
Very close.
Her eyes met his.
Everything slowed again.
The sounds of the village faded into the background.
For a brief moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.
Her breathing softened.
So did his.
Then she blinked.
Reality returned.
“Put me down,” she said, trying to sound firm, but her voice carried a hint of nervousness.
He hesitated for a second, then gently set her back on her feet.
They both stepped back slightly.
A quiet tension hung between them now.
Different from before.
Deeper.
Amara cleared her throat. “I—I have to go. I’m already late for the market.”
Namdi nodded slowly, still watching her.
“What do you sell again?”
“Meat,” she said. “Chicken, goat, depending on the day.”
He smiled. “Of course. Chicken.”
She laughed softly.
There was a brief pause.
Neither of them seemed ready to leave.
Then Namdi spoke.
“Can I see you again?”
The question came out more directly than he intended.
Amara tilted her head, studying him.
“You just met me today.”
“And I already chased a chicken for you,” he replied. “That must count for something.”
She smiled. “It counts a little.”
“So?”
She looked away briefly, pretending to think. Then back at him.
“I go to the market every day.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“It depends,” she said playfully. “Can you survive the sun?”
“I think I’ve proven myself.”
She laughed. “That was just level one.”
“I’m ready for level two.”
She turned to walk away, then paused.
“If you really want to come,” she said without looking back, “don’t wear those shoes again.”
He looked down at his sneakers. “What’s wrong with them?”
“They look expensive.”
He smiled. “They are.”
“Then don’t wear them,” she said simply, adjusting the chicken under her arm. “The market is not your boardroom.”
With that, she continued walking.
Namdi stood there watching her go.
A slow smile spread across his face.
“The market, huh?” he said softly.
For the first time in a long time, he felt something unfamiliar.
Excitement.
Not the kind that came from business deals or winning contracts.
This one was different.
Simple.
Unpredictable.
Alive.
He turned and began walking back toward his house.
Already thinking.
Already planning.
Already smiling.
“Level two,” he murmured.
The next morning, Namdi woke up earlier than usual.
Not because of alarms. Not because of meetings.
But because of her.
He lay on his bed for a moment, staring at the carved wooden ceiling, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Level two,” he whispered.
Then he sat up quickly.
Standing in front of his wardrobe, he paused again.
Expensive watches. Designer shirts. Shoes that cost more than some people’s yearly income.
He shook his head.
“No. She said no expensive things.”
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