The Accidental Fiancé

Monday started like every other chaotic Lagos morning for Jenna – alarm at 6:30, a rushed shower, and coffee so strong it nearly reset her ancestors. She looked in the mirror: one side of her hair flat, the other confused, mascara half-done, face saying, Survive. That’s the goal. She grabbed her tote bag, stuffed in her laptop and a sad looking granola bar, and dashed out. In just five minutes, she almost tripped over a hawker’s scarves, dodged a speeding Okada(motor bike), and then realized – her access card was in her apartment. Fantastic. She sprinted back up, got it, and arrived at her desk looking like a humidified version of herself. Her boss, Mr. Okoye, passed by with a raised brow. “You look…energetic,” he said dryly. “Cardio”, she lied, even though the only gym she’d visited recently was her imagination. Her friend Aisha peeked over the partition. “Rough morning?” “That obvious?” Jenna replied, offering her half a granola bar like it was a peace offering. She opened her inbox and immediately regretted existing: 23 emails blinking like tiny threats. “ASAP”. “Urgent”. “Please explain”. She hadn’t even had time to ignore her mother’s early-morning message; Call me now. Not today! At 8:50, Lawrence – her smug office rival – emerged from the elevator in slow-motion glory. Fresh suit. Fresh cologne. Fresh arrogance. “Morning, Jenna”, he said, sounding like he pitied the air she breathed. She forced a smile. “Morning”. She tried to focus on a campaign update when her phone buzzed; Mide: Karaoke tonight. No excuses. Jenna: I’ll try. Mide: Good. I found someone cute for you. Jenna groaned. Mide’s matchmaking was a sport with a losing record. Then came the meeting. Jenna walked in with her tablet… and walk straight into spilled coffee disaster. Her cup tipped, splashed all over her white blouse, and created an abstract brown artwork across her chest. And the victim standing in front of her? No one else but Mr. Okoye. Before she could melt into the carpet, someone beside her handed her napkins and a handkerchief. “Here — don’t worry. It happens”, he said with a soft smile. He was handsome in a quiet way, tie slightly crooked, eyes gentle. “I’m Samuel. Finance”. “Jenna. Marketing. And permanently embarrassed”, she muttered. He chuckled. “If this is your Monday, I’m afraid of your Wednesday”. Despite everything, she smiled – a real one. She somehow survived the meeting without fainting o spilling anything else. As she walked out, Samuel approached again. “You did great”, he said softly. “Thanks. I try”, she replied, dabbing her blouse like she could erase the memory. Her phone buzzed; Mide: texting cute finance guy already? Jenna rolled her eyes. The universe clearly hated her today. But as she glanced back at Samuel across the room, she felt a tiny flicker of something she hadn’t felt in a while – a curiosity she couldn’t name. For now, she had emails to fight, a day to fix, and at least two more coffees to consume.