Finding Love

The ring lay on the tile floor like a quiet betrayal — silver, cold, and utterly still. It didn’t bounce. It didn’t roll. It just hit the ground and stayed there. Much like Jane in that moment. The words still echoed in her mind, sharp and shameless: *I can’t marry a woman who thinks too much of herself. You argue too much. You dream too big.* He said it like it was a flaw. Like ambition in a woman was arrogance. Jide stood by the door, arms folded, jaw tight — as if *he* had been the one betrayed. Jane didn’t cry. Not in front of him. Instead, she picked up the ring — not to beg, but to return what wasn’t hers anymore — and placed it on the table like an expired promise. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she whispered. Then she walked into her room, locked the door, and crumbled. That night, the ceiling fan scraped softly against its metal frame — the only witness to her heartbreak. She didn’t wail. She didn’t scream. She just… existed. And in that quiet space, something sparked. Not rage. Not revenge. Just clarity. --- **Three Weeks Later — Gwarinpa, Abuja** The air smelled different in Abuja. Cleaner. More expensive. The city buzzed with a silent pressure — like everyone here was either important or trying hard to look like it. Jane adjusted her grip on the worn duffel bag as she stepped off the bus. Her cheap sneakers hit the sidewalk with a soft slap. The Abuja sun didn’t care that she was new. It bore down anyway, daring her to melt. She inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. *This is it.* A new city. A new life. A version of herself she hadn’t met yet. Not Jane-the-almost-bride. Not Jane-the-people-pleaser. Just… Jane. Raw, unedited, unafraid. She took a cab to the flat she’d found online — one room, shared kitchen, shared bathroom. It wasn’t luxury. But it was hers. --- **Later That Evening** Jane sat on a thin mattress, staring at her phone. A message blinked on the screen: *Be at the office Monday. 8:00 a.m. sharp. No excuses. – Linda* No emoji. No “Welcome to the team.” Just commands. --- **Meet Linda — The Ice Queen of Office 402** Linda didn’t smile. She didn’t nod. She didn’t do small talk. Jane entered the HR office at 7:55 a.m. sharp, but Linda didn’t acknowledge her until 8:07. When she finally looked up, her eyes were cold — not cruel, just... disinterested. “You’re the new one,” she said, more to her computer than to Jane. Jane nodded. “Yes, ma—” “Don’t call me *ma*. I’m not your mother.” And that was the introduction. By noon, Jane had made three mistakes — one of which was breathing too loud near Linda’s desk. But Jane smiled anyway. Because she hadn’t left Ilorin just to crumble under another woman’s heel. She would learn. She would adjust. But she wouldn’t shrink. Not anymore. --- **That Evening — The Stranger with the Soft Eyes** Abuja moved fast. The people. The cars. Even the weather changed moods every hour. Jane walked briskly to a nearby pharmacy to buy toothpaste — the one thing she forgot to pack — when a sharp turn collided her into a human wall. *Coffee. Everywhere.* A hot, sweet-smelling disaster all over her blouse. “Oh no—damn. I’m sorry,” the man said, stepping back, visibly shocked. Jane looked up — and froze. He wasn’t dramatic or loud. He didn’t reek of cologne or ego like Jide. He was… quiet. Measured. There was a soft American accent in his voice, but his skin, his eyes, the Yoruba necklace barely showing under his shirt — he was homegrown too. “I didn’t see you,” Jane managed, blotting her shirt with tissue. “That’s my fault. Let me—wait—just take this.” He handed her a clean handkerchief. White, ironed, monogrammed with *N. Ayodele*. “Nathaniel,” he said, almost like an afterthought. Jane nodded but didn’t give her name. She wasn’t ready to be known. “Okay then. Be safe,” he said, and walked away with quiet confidence. Not lingering. Not flirting. Just... kind. His name stuck in her mind: *Nathaniel Ayodele.* It tasted foreign and familiar at the same time. --- That night, Jane stood by the small window of her new apartment, watching the city lights blink like distant stars. She thought about Jide. About Linda. And about a stranger who said her name without even asking for it. --- **The Office, Again** The walls weren’t just grey — they were soulless. That strange in-between color that made you feel like you were in someone’s waiting room… forever. Jane sat at a desk near the window, watching a pigeon hop along the balcony ledge. She envied the bird — its freedom, its flight, its ability to disappear. Her first full week at LTS Innovations was less onboarding, more *sink or swim*. Linda gave instructions like riddles. The other staff followed her like shadows — silent, obedient, scared. Jane had never seen fear worn as fashion until she stepped into that office. Linda’s heels clicked louder than the typing on keyboards. She didn’t yell — worse, she dismissed. Her disapproval was quiet. And that made it dangerous. A look here. A raised brow there. --- On Jane’s second day, Linda handed her a file. “Cross-check all the figures and resubmit in my format. I don’t want to see Excel tables that look like chaos.” Jane opened the file. The figures weren’t just wrong — they were missing. But she said nothing. She stayed up that night fixing a file someone else had messed up. By Friday, her eyes burned from too much screen time. Her back ached. But her pride? Untouched. --- **Enter Tara: The Office Whisper** “You’re brave,” Tara whispered one afternoon when Linda had stepped out. She sat beside Jane with a half-smile and a bowl of spicy noodles. “Most people don’t survive their first week. But you — you just keep taking it.” Jane smiled. “Maybe I’m used to strong women.” “No, love,” Tara said, sipping her Pepsi. “Linda’s not strong. She’s bitter. And bitter women don’t mentor… they mock.” They became quiet allies after that — exchanging glances during team meetings, slipping sticky notes with jokes and warnings.