Simi my love

The Lagos sun beat down mercilessly as Simi stood outside the compound gates, her small pink suitcase looking pathetic beside her. She had exactly ■50,000 in her bank account, a degree in Business Administration she wasn't using, and zero prospects. Her mother had given her an ultimatum: "Either find a job in this city or come back to Ibadan and marry that banker your uncle knows." Simi had chosen Lagos. The compound itself was beautiful—a sprawling Victorian mansion with manicured gardens that looked like something from a magazine. Bougainvillea flowers burst in violent purples and reds against cream-colored walls. Through the gates, she could see a fountain, actual marble tiles, and what appeared to be at least five other houses on the property. "Miss Simi?" A voice startled her. She turned to see an elderly woman in a wrapper and headtie, carrying a woven basket. "You be the one Alhaji Toyin rent room for?" "Yes, ma. I'm Simi Okafor." She extended her hand, trying to look professional despite her sweaty palms. The woman—who introduced herself as Mama Kemi—shook her hand with surprising strength. "Welcome, my dear. You chose compound well-well. Mr. Damilola, he's our landlord. Fine boy. Fine fine. Rich too. His father was senator, you know. But that one, even if he get all the money in Lagos, he still no want woman." Simi laughed. "What do you mean he doesn't want a woman? He's not... like that, is he?" Mama Kemi led her through the gates, her flip-flops slapping against the marble. "No-no. He like woman. Too much. But he make a vow, many years ago. He said he go swear never to love any woman until he find THE ONE. The woman he swear to find. Is years now, and he still look like he waiting for Jesus to deliver her." They walked past a pristine rose garden. Simi could hear music playing somewhere—a mix of Afrobeats and what sounded like romantic Highlife. She caught sight of someone by the fountain: a tall man in a white linen shirt, dark sunglasses, his phone to his ear. "That's him?" Simi whispered. "Yes. Mr. Damilola Adeyemi. 32 years old. Never been married. Come from serious money. His compound get eight houses. He live in the main one—that massive thing over there." Mama Kemi pointed to an ultra-modern glass and concrete structure that looked like it cost more than Simi's entire future. "He don't bother anybody. You pay your rent, he leave you alone. Very fair man, actually. Not like some of these Lagos landlords wey go disturb you every weekend." They reached a small gatehouse painted butter-yellow, with white shutters and a tiled veranda. It was modest compared to the main house, but it was charming. There was a little kitchen area, a sitting room, and through an open door, Simi could see a bedroom with a proper bed and even air conditioning. "This one nice, eh?" Mama Kemi said proudly, as if she owned it herself. Simi's eyes filled with tears. It was perfect. It was more than perfect. It was exactly what she needed. Small, manageable, and in a safe compound with this mysterious romantic landlord who apparently had sworn off love. "How much is it?" she asked carefully. "■40,000 per month. Electricity and water include. Internet not include, but Mr. Damilola get WiFi wey reach here, and he generous with password." Simi's heart sank slightly. ■40,000 was her entire month's budget. She had been hoping for something cheaper. "How about I introduce you to him?" Mama Kemi was already heading back toward the main house. "Come come, let me show you around first. Every tenant, he want to meet them personal." As they walked, Simi caught more glimpses of the compound's layout. There was a small swimming pool, a basketball court, gardens that put botanical centers to shame. This place was basically a resort. And apparently, it was owned by a man who had sworn never to love. They approached the fountain, where the man was still on his phone. Up close, he was even more stunning. Light-skinned, with sharp jawlines and the kind of eyelashes that should be illegal. He had a small scar on his left cheek that somehow made him look even more dangerous. "Damilola!" Mama Kemi called out. "The new tenant come!" He turned, still on the phone. When he saw Simi, his expression changed. His hand moved slowly from his ear, and for a moment—just a moment—his sunglasses slipped down and their eyes met. In that second, Simi felt something shift in the universe. It was ridiculous. It was cinematic. It was the kind of moment that happens in the movies her mother watched ot in real life. Then he put his sunglasses back on and looked away. "Mama Kemi, my dear, I have a client on the phone," he said smoothly. His voice was deep, with an accent that suggested he'd lived abroad. "Can you show the new tenant around? I'll stop by tomorrow." With that, he turned his back to them and walked toward the main house, his phone already back at his ear. Simi watched him go, her heart doing something it had no business doing. "Don't mind him," Mama Kemi said knowingly. "He always like that with the new tenants. Is his own vow problem. But you see... you be pretty girl. Maybe you be the one he looking for?" Simi laughed, but her laugh sounded shaky. "Mama, I'm here because I have ■50,000 in my bank account and my mother threatened to marry me off. I am definitely not anybody's destiny." "Ehn, that's what they all say," Mama Kemi said, amused. As they went to complete the paperwork, Simi couldn't stop thinking about the moment their eyes had met. She was being ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But as she lay in her new room that night, listening to the sounds of Lagos traffic filtering through the windows, she found herself wondering about a man who had swore off love , until he found “the one.” She had a sinking feeling her life just got more complicated.