The Architect of Us

Chapter Thirteen: The Proposal

“Sometimes, home isn’t a place—it’s a person who looks at you and says, ‘I want to build with you.’”

The weight of the moment settled between them like soft rain on thirsty ground.

Adanna sat in the quiet of their favourite rooftop café in Wuse 2, the sketchbook still open on her lap, her fingers tracing the final drawing—a house with a front porch, oversized windows, and her name written in delicate script above the doorway. Her breath caught again.

“This is... ours?” she asked, her voice barely louder than the breeze curling through the plants around them.

Toba smiled gently. “Yes. Every line. Every room. I’ve imagined a lifetime inside it—with you.”

Adanna looked up from the page. His eyes were steady, kind, and oddly nervous. He wasn’t the flashy type—Toba never was. He didn’t do grand gestures or dramatic speeches. He made meaning out of simplicity, and in that moment, she could feel the weight of his intention.

“You said you weren’t ready to propose yet,” she whispered, half-smiling.

“I wasn’t,” he said, rising slowly from his chair.

And then he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small, square box—the kind her heart had imagined a hundred times but had stopped hoping for after the heartbreaks before him.

“But God didn’t say ‘wait’—He said ‘build,’” he added quietly, then sank to one knee.

The café quieted. A waiter paused mid-step. A lady near the railing gasped and covered her mouth.

Toba opened the box. A simple gold band shimmered in the dusky light—no diamonds, no extra frills, just timeless, clean design. It looked like something Adanna herself would sketch.

“Adanna Ekwe,” he said, with just a quiver in his voice. “You are my calm in the storm, my loudest laughter, and the answer to a prayer I didn’t know how to pray. I want to build with you—not just a house, but a life. Will you marry me?”

She didn’t cry at first. She blinked too fast, smiled too wide. Her hands trembled as she reached for his, and then, finally—tears.

She nodded, managing to say yes before wrapping him in a hug so tight he nearly toppled over.

The ring slipped onto her finger, warm and light and real.

---

Later that evening, as they drove back through the familiar streets of Abuja, past old trees and busy suya spots and the small church where they first sat side by side, Adanna leaned her head on his shoulder in the car.

“So,” she murmured, grinning, “we’re really doing this.”

“We are,” Toba said, glancing at her briefly before refocusing on the road. “You, me, and God.”

She laughed. “And probably your mother who’s already planning the entire guest list, and my sisters who will want matching aso-ebi in six colours.”

“Oh, definitely,” he said with a chuckle. “But we’ll survive. Maybe.”

They stopped at a red light, and for a brief moment, she studied his profile—the slight furrow in his brow, the curve of his lips. There was something safe in how he looked at the world. Something that made her believe this new chapter would be messy, loud, maybe even painful—but also good. Rooted.

“I’m scared, Toba,” she whispered honestly.

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

They both laughed at that.

“But I think God does His best work when we bring our fears to Him,” he added, softer now.

The light turned green. They moved forward—slowly, together.

Scene Break: The Dream Begins

That night, Adanna knelt beside her bed, fingers grazing her journal, heart full. She had prayed so many prayers in this very spot. Prayers soaked in tears and whispered in doubt. Prayers for love that wouldn’t demand she shrink. For someone who wouldn’t run from her dreams.

Now she prayed again—not for what was coming, but in thanks for what had begun.

“Lord,” she murmured, “thank You for a love that builds.”