Chapter 4. Tunde Shares His Dream
1302 Words
It started with silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that feels like something is about to be said… something that changes the air.
Adaeze noticed it immediately.
Tunde Balogun wasn’t talking as much today.
That alone felt suspicious.
They sat on the low concrete step outside a closed shop. Evening was settling slowly over the street. Streetlights flickered like they were unsure about their job.
Adaeze adjusted her wrapper.
“You’re quiet,” she said.
Tunde nodded.
“Thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
He smiled slightly. “So I’ve been told.”
A pause.
Then he said, “Do you believe people can start over?”
Adaeze didn’t answer immediately.
Instead she looked at him.
Really looked.
“You’re asking me that like I’m wise,” she said.
“You are.”
She laughed once. No humor in it.
“I’m tired, not wise.”
Tunde leaned back against the wall.
“I still think you’re wise.”
“Stop thinking things about me.”
That made him smile.
But it faded quickly.
He exhaled.
“I used to think success was just… money.”
Adaeze scoffed softly. “That’s what it is.”
He shook his head.
“No. I mean… I thought once I had money, everything else would fall into place.”
“And?”
“And it didn’t.”
Silence.
A dog barked in the distance.
Adaeze crossed her arms. “You sound disappointed.”
“I am.”
“With money?”
“With what it does to people.”
That line made her pause.
She studied him again.
He didn’t look like a man complaining.
He looked like someone who had already lost something he couldn’t name.
“What exactly do you do?” she asked.
He hesitated.
Then:
“Construction. Real estate development.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds expensive.”
“It is.”
“Then why are you broke in the rain asking for directions?”
He laughed softly.
“Bad timing. Bad partners. Bad decisions.”
Adaeze nodded slowly.
“Sounds like life.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Mine just upgraded to premium version.”
That made her laugh before she could stop it.
She caught herself quickly.
Cleared her throat.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“You should laugh more,” he said.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
Adaeze looked away.
“Because laughter doesn’t pay bills.”
Tunde went quiet again.
This time longer.
Then:
“I want to build something different.”
Adaeze sighed.
“Everyone wants something.”
“No,” he said quickly. “Listen.”
Something in his tone changed.
Sharper now.
Focused.
“I don’t just mean buildings.”
She frowned slightly.
“Then what?”
He leaned forward.
Like the words were too heavy to say casually.
“I want to build estates. Real estates. Proper ones. Not those half-finished cement graves everywhere.”
Adaeze stayed silent.
He continued.
“But more than that… I want to be someone people can’t erase.”
That caught her attention.
She looked at him fully now.
“What does that even mean?”
Tunde hesitated.
Then spoke slower.
“I grew up invisible.”
Adaeze didn’t respond.
People always said that.
But not like this.
He wasn’t trying to get sympathy.
He was just stating a fact.
“My father died early,” he said. “My mother worked herself into nothing. Nobody cared. Nobody checked.”
His jaw tightened.
“So I told myself… I will never be small.”
Adaeze watched him carefully.
There was something underneath the ambition.
Something harder.
Sharper.
“Being big doesn’t fix being small inside,” she said quietly.
That stopped him.
He looked at her.
Long.
Then nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m starting to learn that.”
A motorcycle passed, splashing muddy water near their feet.
Adaeze shifted slightly away.
Tunde noticed.
“You hate chaos.”
“I hate dirt.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
She looked at him sharply.
“Stop trying to read me.”
He raised his hands.
“Okay. Okay.”
But then
“I think you’re someone who had to grow up too fast.”
Adaeze froze.
Just slightly.
Not enough for most people to notice.
But he did.
And that made her uncomfortable.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said.
“I know enough.”
“Like what?”
He hesitated.
Then:
“You look like someone who doesn’t ask for help even when she’s drowning.”
That landed differently.
He didn’t know how close he was.
Adaeze stood up.
“Everyone is drowning,” she said flatly. “Some of us just learn how to float quietly.”
Tunde stood too.
“Is that what you’re doing?”
She didn’t answer.
Because the truth was… she wasn’t sure anymore.
They started walking.
No direction again.
Just movement.
Tunde spoke after a while.
“I have a plan.”
Adaeze didn’t look at him.
“Everybody has plans.”
“This one is real.”
She stopped walking.
Finally looked at him.
“What plan?”
He took a breath.
“I want to start small. Buy land. Build one estate. Then another. Then expand.”
Adaeze nodded slowly.
“And you’re telling me this because…?”
He hesitated.
Then smiled slightly.
“Because you’re the first person who didn’t laugh when I said I was broke.”
That made her pause.
She looked away.
“I didn’t laugh because I’ve seen worse than broke.”
Tunde nodded.
“I believe that.”
A silence settled again.
Not awkward.
Just… heavy.
Then he said something quieter.
“I don’t want to fail again.”
Adaeze glanced at him.
“Again?”
He nodded.
“There was a project last year. I lost everything in it.”
“Everything?”
He smiled without humor.
“Money. Reputation. Friends.”
Adaeze exhaled slowly.
“That’s not everything.”
He looked at her.
“What else is there?”
She hesitated.
Then said:
“Yourself.”
That hit him.
Harder than expected.
He looked down at his shoes for a moment.
Then nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Maybe I lost that too.”
They stopped near a quiet junction.
Streetlight buzzing above them.
Tunde turned slightly toward her.
“You know what’s funny?”
Adaeze sighed. “Please don’t say something emotional.”
He smiled.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
“But I think I was supposed to meet you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“There it is.”
“No, listen.”
He stepped closer slightly.
Not invading.
Just… serious.
“Yesterday, I was stranded. Angry. Broke. Humiliated.”
Adaeze crossed her arms.
“And?”
“And if I had taken a different route… I wouldn’t have met you.”
She shrugged.
“So?”
“So maybe that wasn’t random.”
Adaeze stared at him.
“Don’t start believing in destiny.”
“I’m not.”
“You sound like you are.”
He smiled faintly.
“Maybe I just don’t want everything to feel pointless.”
That silence again.
Different now.
Heavier.
Adaeze finally broke it.
“Dreams are expensive,” she said.
Tunde nodded.
“I know.”
“And dangerous.”
“I know that too.”
She looked at him.
“Then why chase it?”
He answered without hesitation.
“Because I’ve already seen what happens when you don’t.”
Adaeze studied him.
Something in his voice didn’t feel like ambition anymore.
It felt like fear disguised as purpose.
And that… made her uneasy.
Because fear like that?
It doesn’t stay alone.
It spreads.
Quietly.
Until it changes everything it touches.
- Writer
