Determined by fate

Chapter seven- New beginnings

Mr. Okezie leaned back in his chair, studying the young couple before him. For a few moments, he seemed lost in thought, the tip of his pen tapping lightly against the table.

“What qualification does your fiancée have?” he finally asked.

“The same as mine, sir,” Obinna replied, his tone polite but uncertain.

Mr. Okezie’s eyes shifted toward Ugonma, who sat quietly beside her fiancé, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. There was hope in her eyes — the kind of hope born from desperation — and a silent plea that softened her youthful features.

He sighed softly and nodded. “Well, I don’t usually encourage couples to work together in the same office. It tends to cause distractions,” he said with a faint smile. “But I’ll make some inquiries among my friends. If I hear of any vacancy, I’ll let you know.”

Their faces brightened instantly. “Thank you, sir,” they chorused, their gratitude almost tangible.

“Good. And Obinna,” he added, his tone firm but kind, “I’ll be expecting you tomorrow morning by seven on the dot. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir!” Obinna said eagerly, his voice ringing with relief.

---

Through the help of Chike — one of the barrow pushers Obinna had worked with at the market — they secured a small room in a crowded compound later that evening. It wasn’t much, but to them, it felt like a mansion compared to sleeping on benches or market stalls.

The compound consisted of two long buildings facing each other, separated by a narrow courtyard where tenants often gathered to cook, gossip, or hang their clothes. Each building held ten tiny rooms, with shared bathrooms and toilets located at the far end. The air smelled of soap, firewood, and the faint aroma of boiling beans from one of the tenants’ pots.

“We’ll manage here for now,” Obinna said, glancing around their room — bare walls, a small window, and a creaky wooden door. “At least until we can afford something better.”

Ugonma smiled softly. “As long as I’m with you, I’m happy,” she said, her voice tender.

That night, lying side by side on their thin mattress, they whispered dreams to each other until sleep came — dreams of stability, of dignity, and of building a future together.

---

The next morning, Obinna dressed neatly in his only good shirt and trousers. As he prepared to leave for his first day at work, he turned to Ugonma, his expression serious.

“Please, stay indoors,” he said. “Don’t open the door for anyone, no matter who it is. I don’t trust people easily anymore — not after Elechi.”

Ugonma smiled faintly and reached for his hand. “Everyone isn’t Elechi, my love,” she said gently.

“I know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I’m just being paranoid.”

“Then stop worrying,” she teased, giving him a playful shove. “Go, before your new boss thinks you’re lazy on your first day.”

Obinna hesitated at the door until she locked it behind him, only then did he finally leave, his heart torn between pride and fear.

At work, Obinna proved himself quickly. He was punctual, respectful, and remarkably efficient. In a short time, everyone in the company knew him.

“Where’s Obinna?”

“Has Obinna come in?”

“Call Obinna — he’ll handle it.”

He had become indispensable.

---

One afternoon, about a month into his new job, Mr. Okezie called him into his office.

“Sit down, Obinna,” he said, his tone friendly but serious.

Obinna obeyed.

“How old are you?” the man asked.

“I’ll be eighteen in June, sir.”

“And your fiancée?”

“She’s sixteen, sir.”

Mr. Okezie nodded slowly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. He had often wondered about this young man — the way he spoke of his fiancée, his request for a job for her, and his plea for an advance to pay their rent. Something about them didn’t quite fit.

“Do you mind telling me your story?” he asked after a pause. “I don’t mean to pry, but if I’m to consider giving your fiancée a job as well, I need to understand your situation. You’re both under eighteen, so technically, you’re still minors.”

Obinna froze. His fingers fidgeted nervously. For a moment, he considered lying — saying his parents had sent him to the city to find work — but there was something about Mr. Okezie’s eyes that made deceit impossible. They were kind, understanding eyes.

After a long pause, he began to speak — slowly at first, then steadily — recounting everything: how Ugonma’s parents had tried to marry her off to Chief Ene, a wealthy old man with three wives; how she had refused; how love had driven them to run away from the village in the dead of night, carrying nothing but their faith and a few belongings.

When he finished, the room fell silent.

“You mean you both ran away from home… without your parents’ knowledge?” Mr. Okezie asked, astonished.

“Yes, sir.”

“And have you heard from them since?”

“No, sir. But we plan to go back once we’ve settled. We’re just… afraid. If Chief Ene finds out where we are, he might try to take Ugonma by force.”

Mr. Okezie leaned back, nodding thoughtfully. “I understand. But you must know that what you did is considered a criminal offense — running away as minors. Still…” he smiled faintly, “I can’t blame you. Love has a way of making people act irrationally.”

Obinna lowered his gaze. “I know, sir. But I’d do it again if it means keeping her safe.”

“Well,” Mr. Okezie said after a while, “you’re brave, I’ll give you that. And I admire your sense of responsibility.” He paused, tapping the table lightly. “I’ll see what I can do for your fiancée. She deserves a chance too.”

Obinna’s face lit up. “Oh, thank you, sir!”

That evening, when he returned home, Ugonma was waiting anxiously by the door as always, her eyes searching his face.

“Any news?” she asked eagerly.

“Not yet,” he said, trying not to disappoint her. “But my boss promised to find something soon.”