“The barren one.”
“The one marrying a farmer.”
Even relatives pitied her openly.
One aunt pulled her aside during the engagement ceremony and whispered:
“At least village men don’t expect much.”
Chika only smiled politely.
Inside, she felt numb.
Because the truth was…
she had stopped dreaming about happiness a long time ago.
—
The morning her future husband finally arrived, rain clouds gathered heavily over the village roads.
Everyone expected embarrassment.
Especially Kemi.
She stood beside the gate wearing gold jewelry and a mocking smile.
“I hope your farmer at least owns shoes,” she sneered.
Then the vehicle appeared.
Not a luxury convoy.
Not security escorts.
Just one dusty old pickup truck rattling slowly into the compound.
Kemi burst into laughter immediately.
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “He actually came in THAT?”
The truck stopped.
And a man stepped out.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Simple dark clothes.
Dust-covered sandals.
No jewelry.
No designer watch.
Nothing flashy.
He looked calm in a way that almost felt dangerous.
His name was Malik.
And the moment Chika saw his eyes…
something inside her paused.
Because there was no shame in him.
No insecurity.
No desperation.
Just quiet control.
Kemi looked delighted.
“This is perfect,” she whispered cruelly. “You actually belong together.”
Then another vehicle arrived behind Malik’s truck.
