coconut Wi-Fi
1231 Words
Chapter 2
Adrian Steele woke up to the sound of roosters screaming directly into his ear.
He groaned and rolled over straight into a wooden floor. His back ached, his pride ached even more, and the faint smell of coconut oil and grilled fish made him question every life choice that had led to this moment.
He opened his eyes. The bamboo ceiling stared back at him. The sea breeze drifted through open windows, and somewhere outside, someone was singing off key but cheerful.
Then it all came rushing back.
The storm.
The crash.
The girl.
Shaira Alolor.
He sat up quickly, scanning the small hut. A mosquito net hung loosely from the ceiling. His phone lay on a makeshift table, cracked and utterly dead. His designer watch had stopped ticking. His suit jacket once sleek and tailored was now being used as a pillow by a small orange cat.
“This is hell,” he muttered.
“Good morning to you too, city boy,” came a voice from the doorway.
Shaira stood there, barefoot and grinning, holding a basket of mangoes. Her hair was still damp from the sea, a few wild strands catching the sunlight. She looked irritatingly awake.
Adrian rubbed his temples. “Do you always sound that… cheerful?”
“Only when I’m around grumpy people,” she said. “Makes me feel balanced.”
He shot her a look. She just laughed, setting the mangoes on the table. “Breakfast. You’re helping.”
“I don’t—”
“—‘do chores,’ yeah, yeah, you said that yesterday,” she interrupted. “Guess what? You do now. Congratulations.”
Adrian stared at her, trying to decide whether she was brave or just insane. “I’m a CEO,” he said flatly. “I run a global company. I don’t—”
“—know how to fry an egg?” she teased. “Figures.”
He glared. She smiled. The air crackled with the kind of tension only two very different people could create.
By mid-morning, Adrian had managed to burn not one, not two, but three attempts at cooking fish. Shaira stood beside him, biting her lip to keep from laughing.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, waving the spatula.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m your entertainment.”
“Oh, you are,” she said, laughing. “You city people think food just appears when you press a button.”
“I have assistants for that.”
“Well, your assistant isn’t here. Only me. And I charge extra for sarcasm.”
He turned away before she could see the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Somewhere deep down, he almost almost found her refreshing.
By noon, Adrian had decided he couldn’t survive another minute without technology. His company must have been in chaos by now. His assistant was probably organizing search parties. His stock price could be falling. He had to do something.
So he did what any desperate genius CEO would do.
He built a “communication device.”
Sort of.
Shaira found him an hour later sitting under a palm tree, surrounded by coconuts, wires from his broken phone, and a solar lantern he’d dismantled.
“What,” she said slowly, “are you doing?”
“Creating a signal amplifier,” he said confidently. “If I can redirect the solar current through the copper wiring, I might”
“Explode the coconuts?”
He ignored her, twisting two wires together. The coconut made a faint pop sound. Shaira ducked. Adrian jumped back, looking mildly singed.
She burst out laughing. “Congratulations, Mr. CEO. You just invented coconut fireworks.”
“It was a minor miscalculation,” he said, brushing sand off his shirt. “Every innovation begins with failure.”
“Spoken like a man who’s never been hit by his own experiment.”
He shot her a glare, but even he couldn’t help it he started to laugh. Just a little. The sound surprised both of them.
That afternoon, Shaira took him to see the island properly. The storm had passed, leaving everything glistening under the sun. Palm trees swayed lazily, and kids played by the shoreline, chasing after tiny crabs.
“This is where you live?” Adrian asked, scanning the stretch of sand and bright wooden huts.
“Born and raised,” she said proudly. “My family’s been here for generations. We take care of the land, the sea, and each other.”
He nodded, quieter now. “It’s… beautiful.”
She smiled. “Careful, city boy. Sounds like you’re falling in love with my island.”
“Not possible,” he said quickly. “I don’t fall in love with places.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Or people?”
He didn’t answer. She just grinned knowingly.
Later, as the sun began to set, they sat by the water. The waves whispered against the sand, painting the sky orange and pink. For the first time in a long time, Adrian felt something unusual peace.
“Don’t you ever get bored here?” he asked.
“Never,” she said. “There’s always something to fix, someone to help, or a new sunset to watch. What about you? Don’t you get tired of boardrooms and meetings?”
He hesitated. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But success doesn’t wait.”
“Neither does life,” she said softly.
He glanced at her. She was looking at the horizon, eyes glowing in the fading light. And just for a moment, he forgot about his company, his yacht, and the world beyond the sea.
Then she turned to him and smiled that teasing smile again. “You’re staring.”
He blinked. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Sure you weren’t.”
She stood, brushing sand off her shorts. “Dinner’s in an hour. Try not to blow up anything before then.”
He watched her walk back toward the huts, laughter trailing behind her like sunlight. He shook his head, half amused, half confused.
That night, as the island grew quiet, Adrian lay awake in the hammock Shaira had set up for him outside. The stars stretched endlessly above brighter than any city light. He couldn’t sleep. Every creak of the waves, every whisper of wind reminded him that he was far, far from everything he knew.
And yet… he didn’t hate it.
He could hear Shaira humming from inside her house, a soft melody that blended perfectly with the night sounds. Somehow, it calmed him more than any corporate meditation app ever had.
For a man who built empires, Adrian Steele realized he had never actually lived.
The next morning, he woke up to Shaira standing over him, holding a tray of coffee island style, strong and smoky.
“I didn’t know you served room service,” he said, stretching.
“I don’t,” she replied. “You owe me two hours of work for this.”
He frowned. “Work?”
She handed him a rake. “Welcome to paradise, Mr. Steele. The beach doesn’t clean itself.”
He groaned. She laughed. The sound filled the morning, light and contagious.
As he followed her toward the shore, Adrian couldn’t help but think that maybe just maybe getting stranded wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
- Writer
