Chapter Seven: Jabi Reflections
851 Words
The morning air in Jabi was softer than Adanna expected. The gentle breeze coming off the lake carried the scent of dew-drenched grass and something sweet—freedom, maybe. Or fresh possibilities.
The firm had booked a weekend design retreat at a quiet lodge just off the waterfront. It wasn’t anything too fancy—white-painted cabins with flat roofs, a shaded outdoor workspace, and a small pier that stretched lazily into the calm water—but it was beautiful in a natural, unpretentious way.
Toba called it “brain reset,” but the staff called it “free food and vibes.”
Adanna arrived late Friday evening, thanks to a detour through Utako that turned into a one-hour standstill. As she rolled her suitcase toward the cabins, she spotted Zara already lounging on a hammock with a straw hat and fruit smoothie in hand.
“You finally made it!” Zara chirped. “I was about to send a search party—or a drone.”
Adanna grinned. “Blame Abuja traffic. And one very suspicious keke driver who insisted he ‘knew a shortcut.’ I ended up at a mechanic’s shop in Mabushi.”
“Omo! That’s how kidnappings start, oh.”
“Thank God for legwork and sense.”
Inside the cabin, Adanna dropped her bag and freshened up. The space was small but cozy—cream walls, a bamboo reading lamp, and a tiny fridge humming in the corner. Through the window, she could see the lake catching moonlight like a mirror.
She whispered a short prayer of thanks, then stepped out for the evening bonfire.
---
Toba was already there, poking at the fire with a stick like he was stirring soup.
“I hope this isn’t part of your architectural training,” Adanna teased, walking up.
He looked up and smiled. “It’s a different kind of design—heat and balance.”
She sat beside him on one of the benches. The fire popped and hissed, glowing against the curve of his jawline.
“So,” he said, “you handled that site visit like a pro. Any nightmares afterward?”
“Just dusty flashbacks. And your joke about gravel still haunts me.”
He chuckled. “Good. Keeps you sharp.”
Silence settled, comfortable but curious.
Then he added, “You know, I almost didn’t invite you this weekend.”
Adanna raised a brow. “Why?”
“Because retreats like this blur lines. And you… you’re easy to talk to. Too easy.”
She stared into the fire. “And that’s a problem?”
“It could be.”
There was a weight in his voice that caught her breath.
“I didn’t come here for confusion, Toba,” she said softly. “I’ve had enough of that.”
He looked at her—fully, gently. “Neither did I.”
The flames crackled between them.
Then he reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a folded sketch.
“What’s this?”
“My version of the Onwudiwe house. Before I saw yours.”
Adanna opened it. It was different—bold lines, clean edges, masculine symmetry. Impressive, but sterile.
“You’re more technical,” she murmured.
“And you’re more… soulful,” he replied. “You made it feel like someone actually lives there. I envy that.”
She smiled faintly. “I pray before I design.”
“I can tell.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of laughter from the team drifted in from the lodge kitchen. Somewhere, someone played Asa's “Bibanke” on a Bluetooth speaker.
Adanna wrapped her arms around herself. “You ever worry you’re too broken to try again?”
He blinked. “Yes. Every day.”
“But you still do.”
“I try. Faith is like design—you don’t always know how the structure will hold, but you draw the lines anyway.”
Their eyes met.
And for a heartbeat, she let herself feel it: the connection. The pull. The soft, unspoken question between them.
But before either of them could speak, her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen.
Email from Emeka: Subject—“Closure or Confusion?”
Her heart flipped.
She didn’t open it.
Not yet.
Toba noticed the flicker in her eyes. “Bad news?”
“Just… something I thought I buried.”
He didn’t press. “Well… if it tries to dig itself out, remind it who you are now.”
She nodded, blinking against the sudden pressure in her chest.
“I’m not who I was,” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “You’re much more.”
---
That night, as she lay in bed, the sounds of crickets and the lake’s soft waves outside, Adanna stared at the ceiling, emotions swirling like the ripples on the water.
Could she trust this feeling?
Could she believe that something good—someone good—was really beginning?
She didn’t know yet.
But she prayed.
And when she finally drifted to sleep, her heart felt a little less guarded.
- Writer
