Chapter Two

The morning sun slipped through the glass curtain of the Zenith Bank branch on Jabi Road, painting the polished floor with a thin line of gold. Sochima pulled his keycard from his pocket, swiped it, and stepped into the cool lobby. The hum of computers and the soft clatter of keyboards greeted him like an old friend.

He had been in Abuja for a week now, still learning the rhythm of the city, its traffic, its heat, the way the wind seemed to carry a whisper of distant drums. The move from Imo had been a fresh start, a chance to leave the ghost of his last relationship behind. He had promised himself that before Christmas he would not let any woman steal his focus. No love, no drama, he muttered under his breath as he walked toward his desk.

The branch manager, Mrs. Adebayo, was already there, her eyes scanning a stack of papers. Good morning, Sochima, she said, her voice warm but brisk. I want you to meet someone. She’s starting today in the credit department. Her name is Aisha.

Sochima turned and saw a woman standing by the coffee machine, a plastic cup in her hand. She was taller than average, her posture straight, and she wore a navy suit that fit her like a second skin. Her hair was tucked into a neat bun, and a few strands escaped, catching the light. When she turned, her smile was easy, the kind that made the room feel a little brighter.

Aisha, this is Sochima, Mrs. Adebayo said, gesturing. He’s one of our junior analysts. Show him the ropes, will you?

Aisha extended her hand. Nice to meet you, Sochima. I’ve heard you’re from Imo. How are you finding Abuja?

Her voice was soft, with a hint of a laccadive accent that made the words sound melodic. Sochima felt a flicker of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in months a spark of curiosity, perhaps, or the old habit of noticing a beautiful woman.

It’s different, he replied, shaking her hand. Busy, but I’m learning. He let go quickly, as if the contact might linger too long.

Aisha laughed, a light sound that seemed to echo off the marble walls. That’s the plan. I’m from Kano, but I’ve been in Lagos for a while. Abuja is a fresh start for both of us, right?

He nodded, feeling the weight of his own promise settle like a stone in his chest. “Right.”

The day moved forward in a blur of spreadsheets, client calls, and the occasional glance across the open office. Sochima found himself watching Aisha more than he cared to admit. She moved with confidence, her fingers dancing over the keyboard as if she’d been born with them. When she laughed at a joke from a colleague, the sound made him smile despite himself.

During lunch, he found a quiet corner in the staff cafeteria and pulled out his phone, scrolling through messages from his sister back in Imo. How’s the new job? she had typed. He typed a quick reply, It’s okay. Busy. He didn’t mention the new face that had caught his eye.

Aisha sat at a table nearby, a sandwich in front of her, a notebook open beside it. She was scribbling something, her brow furrowed in concentration. Sochima’s curiosity got the better of him. He stood, grabbed his own sandwich, and walked over.

Mind if I join you? he asked, gesturing to the empty chair.

She looked up, surprised, then smiled. Please, sit. I’m just trying to figure out the new credit policy. It’s a bit dense.

He slid into the chair, feeling the plastic creak under his weight. I’ve been there. The first week is a maze.

They talked about the bank’s procedures, about the city’s traffic, about the best places to grab a quick bite. As they spoke, the tension that had knotted his stomach began to loosen. He realized he was enjoying the conversation, the easy back-and-forth, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her love for cooking Nigerian dishes.

You should try my mother’s jollof sometime, she said, a mischievous glare in her eyes. It’s the only thing that can make a tough day better.

Sochima chuckled. I’ll take you up on that. I’m still learning how to make a proper pot of soup without burning it.

The afternoon sun shifted, casting longer shadows across the office floor. As the workday wound down, Mrs. Adebayo called a quick meeting. “Team, I want to thank everyone for the hard work this week. Remember, the quarterly report is due Friday. Let’s push through.

Sochima felt a hand tap his shoulder. He turned to see Aisha, holding a small piece of paper. I wrote down the link to the credit policy manual you mentioned. Thought it might help.

Thanks, he said, taking the paper. Their fingers brushed briefly, and a jolt of electricity ran up his arm. He stared at the paper, then at her, and for a moment the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.

You’re welcome, she whispered, a hint of something softer in her voice.

He swallowed, his promise echoing in his mind. "I… I’m trying to stay focused. I made a promise to myself.

Aisha’s expression turned thoughtful. Promises are important. But sometimes, the best things happen when we let a little space for them.

He didn’t have a response. The office lights flickered as the building’s generator kicked in, a low hum filling the silence between them.

When the meeting ended, Sochima gathered his things and headed for the exit. Aisha lingered by the door, her coat draped over her arm.

See you tomorrow, Sochima, she said, her eyes meeting his for a brief, lingering moment.

He nodded, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and dread. “Tomorrow,” he replied, stepping out into the evening air.

The sky over Abuja was a bruised orange, the city lights beginning to blink on like fireflies. As he walked to his car, his mind replayed their conversation, the sound of her laugh, the way her smile seemed to linger in the dimming light.

He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. The promise he had made felt heavier now, but also lighter, as if the weight of it had shifted just enough to let a new possibility slip in.

Sochima drove away, the city’s hum fading behind him, unaware that the next day would bring a choice, hold onto his vow, or open his heart to the unexpected. The suspense of what lay ahead settled in his chest like a drumbeat, steady and impossible to ignore.