“You’re attracting attention.”
“Same thing.”
The sun climbed higher. The heat intensified. Sweat formed on his forehead.
Amara noticed.
“I warned you,” she said.
“I’m fine,” he insisted.
She handed him a cloth. “Wipe your face, Mr. Billionaire.”
He took it. “Thank you, Miss Market Queen.”
Hours passed.
To Namdi, it felt like minutes.
To Amara, it felt like something she hadn’t experienced before.
Ease.
Laughter.
Partnership.
Finally, the last piece of meat was sold.
Amara looked at the empty table and nodded proudly. “Finished.”
Namdi leaned back slightly. “That was actually satisfying.”
She looked at him, surprised. “You enjoyed it?”
“I did.”
She smiled softly. “Maybe you’re not completely useless.”
He placed a hand on his chest. “I’m honored.”
As they packed up, the gossip still lingered around them. Eyes followed. Voices whispered. Stories were already forming.
But neither of them seemed to care anymore.
As they stepped out of the market together, Amara adjusted her basket.
“So, Mr. Level Two,” she said, glancing at him. “You survived.”
“Barely.”
She laughed. “Level three is harder.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And what is level three?”
She looked ahead, a small smile forming.
“You’ll find out.”
Namdi watched her for a moment, then smiled.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t thinking about the future or the past.
Just now.
The walk from the market was quieter than Namdi expected.
Not awkward.
Just different.
The noise of the market had faded behind them, replaced by the gentle sounds of the village evening—birds settling into trees, distant laughter, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Amara walked beside him, her basket balanced effortlessly, her steps steady.
For once, she wasn’t talking.
And that alone caught his attention.
“You’re quiet,” Namdi said.
She glanced at him briefly. “I talk too much, remember?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
He smiled. “Maybe.”
She shook her head, but a small smile escaped.
After a few minutes, Namdi slowed down slightly.
“There’s somewhere I want to show you.”
Amara stopped. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “If this is one of your billionaire surprises, I’m going home.”
“It’s not,” he said. “It’s something else.”
She studied him for a second, then sighed. “Okay. But if I don’t like it, I’ll say it.”
“I expect nothing less.”
Later in the evening, they walked through a quieter part of the village. Tall trees lined the narrow walkway, their branches forming a soft canopy above. The air felt cooler here, calmer.
Amara looked around curiously.
“I’ve never come this way before.”
“That’s surprising,” Namdi said.
“I don’t have time to be exploring forests,” she replied. “Some of us work.”
He laughed softly.
A few steps later, the path opened.
And there it was.
A hidden garden.
Not wild. Not overly designed. Just perfectly balanced. Green grass stretched across the ground, dotted with small flowers. Lanterns hung from tree branches, unlit but ready for evening. A wooden bench sat under a large tree, its shade wide and welcoming.
Amara stopped walking.
“This is in the village?”
Namdi watched her reaction carefully. “Yes.”
She stepped forward slowly, taking it in.
“It’s beautiful.”
He relaxed slightly. “I’m glad you like it.”
She turned to him. “You did this?”
He nodded. “A long time ago. When I still came here often.”
She smiled softly. “You have sense sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
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