Narrator
Five Years Ago
Wrocław, Poland — 10:45 AM
Striking. Dashing. Effortlessly handsome. The kind of man who turned heads without trying. Every woman's fantasy. Every girl's dream. Yet, he belonged to only one woman.
Adedayo Felix Coker Ayomide, in his early fifties, was still a vision of timeless charm. Age had barely touched him. If not for the glasses he now wore, one could easily mistake him for a man in his mid-thirties.
Women still gravitated toward him. Some lined up just to snap a photo by his side. Others wanted him on their warm beds, even women in their sixties, fantasized about more. But none of that ever swayed him. His heart was spoken for—wholly, completely, and eternally.
His wife was the envy of many. His soulmate. The woman who brought light to his world and steadiness to his soul. She was the one he wished for in this life and the next—the only one who could stir his desire, quiet his storms, and walk beside him through it all.
Adila Success Omowummi Adedayo Felix Ayomide. His one and only. A rare woman of grace and warmth. Gentle, humble, kind-hearted, generous—she was a quiet strength wrapped in elegance. She was everything he ever dreamed of, and more.
Even in her late forties, Adila's beauty turned heads. She carried the glow of someone ten, even fifteen years younger. She didn't just look radiant—she was radiant.
Even in the car, Dayo couldn't keep his eyes off her. He kept stealing glances, unable to resist the magnetism she exuded. She was breathtaking—effortlessly beautiful—and sitting so close, he could feel every inch of tension building inside him. Love. Lust. Longing. It had all been simmering since they left the house.
By the time he pulled up his Black Genesis GV80 in front of a grand, ivy-draped mansion, he couldn't hold back any longer.
With one swift motion, he took off the seatbelt, turned toward her and captured her lips in a sudden, fervent kiss—deep, intense, and filled with unspoken need.
He had waited the entire ride for this. To pull her close. To taste her. To remind her that she still lit him up like fire.
She stiffened at first, caught off guard by the urgency. But within seconds, her lips softened against his, and a small chuckle escaped her throat as her arms found their way around his neck, pulling him in with just as much passion.
They had been married for years, yet the spark between them never dulled. In fact, it only seemed to grow stronger. Like teenagers in love for the first time—wild, reckless, obsessed.
"Geez, you're unbelievable," she said through laughter, trying to catch her breath as he trailed kisses across her cheek and down her neck. "You're going to ruin my makeup, darling."
He didn't miss a beat. "Hmm… let it ruin. I want to see you exactly as you are."
"Dayo…" she began, her voice softer now.
"Yes, my love?" he murmured, lips still grazing her skin.
She liked it—loved it, even—but her gaze shifted, locking onto a figure running toward the car. Her tone lowered to a whisper. "We should stop. Nkechi's coming."
But Dayo didn't care. He never had. His love for her wasn't something he hid. He adored her openly, shamelessly. Whether they were alone or in public, his affection knew no limits.
Adila was used to it by now—his spontaneous, over-the-top affection. Sometimes she playfully resisted, but the truth was, she relished every moment of it.
Even now, as he held her tightly, refusing to let her go, she could feel the same burning desire in his touch. He was ready to take things further—right there, in the car—and honestly, neither of them really minded. It wouldn't be the first time. It wouldn't be the last.
Some would call them shameless. They simply called it love.
He leaned in again, claiming her mouth with hungry precision, savoring her like a man starved. She moaned softly, hands slipping beneath his shirt, desperate to feel his skin.
And then—the knock.
A sharp, deliberate tap on the tinted glass shattered the moment.
Dayo wasn't ready to stop—not when he was just getting lost in her. But the knocking persisted, firm and deliberate. With a frustrated sigh, he finally pulled back, his lips parting from hers with visible reluctance. A deep frown settled on his face as he reached for the control panel and lowered the tinted glass.
Adira, flustered but smiling, quickly adjusted her dress, trying to smooth over the moment.
Before she could fully regain her composure, a familiar high-pitched squeal shattered the air.
"Success!"
It was Nkechi Ella Raymond Okafor—wife of Dayo's best friend and Adira's closest confidante. She threw open the car door and practically launched Adira out, grabbing Adira in a tight, excited embrace.
Her energy was explosive—like a kid on Christmas morning.
Adira blinked in mild surprise, though truthfully, she should've expected it. Nkechi had always been a bundle of joy, full of dramatic flair and wild affection. But that's what made her so lovable. Adira often counted herself lucky to call her a friend.
The two women hugged like they hadn't seen each other in decades, squealing, laughing, and clinging as though the world outside had melted away.
Dayo stepped out of the car slowly, shaking his head with a small, amused sigh. He had seen this show before. More times than he could count. They were like two children who'd just met on a playground—overjoyed and oblivious to everything else.
He leaned against the car, arms folded, watching them with a mix of fondness and low-grade jealousy. As usual, he was invisible to them when they were in this mode.
"You're glowing again," Nkechi gushed, holding Adira's face with both hands, examining her like a prized gem.
Adira laughed. "So are you! Look at you, sparkling like a diamond."
They hugged again.
Sometimes, their bond made Dayo feel like the third wheel in his own marriage. Still, he couldn't help but smile. Their friendship was genuine and rare.
The scene felt almost symbolic—East meets West. Adira and Dayo were Yoruba, rooted in the culture of Nigeria's West. Nkechi and her husband, Raymond, were Igbo, proudly from the East. Different tribes. Different tongues. But somehow, their lives had woven together seamlessly.
"Hello, Felix!" Nkechi called out, finally noticing him. She waved dramatically, grinning from ear to ear.
Dayo gave her a half-smile and a short wave. "Hi, Ella."
Among friends, they often used their English names. It had become a playful tradition between their families.
Then, just as quickly as the excitement began, Nkechi leaned in and whispered something into Adira's ear.
Adira gasped softly, her gaze shifting toward her husband, eyes wide with enthusiasm.
Dayo narrowed his eyes slightly, the frown creeping back.
What now? he thought.
"Darling," Adira leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial, a hand cupped beside her mouth. "Wendy had another baby last night—a boy."
Dayo's brows lifted in surprise. "Seriously?"
Chinwendu—affectionately called Wendy—was Nkechi and Raymond's youngest daughter. The baby of the family. Though grown and married, she still held that "lastborn" sparkle in everyone's eyes.
Nkechi and Raymond were blessed with six children—three sons and three daughters. All but one was still not married. Wendy, their sixth and final child, had now welcomed her second child into the world.
Nkechi's joy was unmistakable. She nodded excitedly, grinning as if her heart could burst. "Yes! She's got two boys now!" She squeezed Adira's hands with overwhelming affection. "I'm a grandma again, Success!"
Adira's face lit up. "I'm so happy for you, babes. Congratulations!" She pulled Nkechi into another warm embrace.
As the women celebrated, voices wrapped in laughter and affection, Dayo quietly excused himself, leaving them to bask in their shared joy. He made his way across the lush green field toward a familiar figure in the distance—his best friend, Raymond Emeka Okeke Okafor.
Raymond was a man whose name spoke volumes in boardrooms across Africa and beyond. A renowned business tycoon—filthy rich, impeccably dressed, but known for his simplicity and calm. Despite his wealth, he carried himself with quiet dignity, never loud, never boastful.
His business empire stretched across the continent, touching sectors from real estate to tech and finance. He and Dayo were often mentioned in the same breath—Forbes frequently attempting to measure and compare their immense net worths. But truth be told, the scales barely tipped either way. It was anyone's guess who was richer.
Not that it mattered to them.
Both men had clawed their way up—through sweat, sacrifice, and relentless ambition. They didn't inherit thrones; they built kingdoms.
Now, they stood as titans. Legends in their industries. The kind of wealth they had acquired could easily sustain their children, grandchildren, and even generations beyond their lifetime. Legacy wasn't just a word—they lived it.
Raymond sat beneath the wide shade of a palm tree, eyes fixed on the Ayoayò board before him. The polished wooden game glinted in the sunlight, with twelve carved pits—six on each side—each one filled with four smooth seeds. His fingers moved with practiced ease, scooping and dropping, counting and strategizing.
It was a game of logic and memory. A game for minds that refused to dull. And though he had no opponent across the table, Raymond played with the intensity of someone who did.
Dayo approached from a distance, hands tucked in his pockets, a knowing smirk on his face. He pulled out a chair and sat directly opposite him.
"Congratulations, Grandpa," he teased.
Raymond didn't even flinch. He recognized the voice instantly. His lips twitched in amusement, but he kept his gaze locked on the board.
"Ụmụaka na-agọzi ezinụlọ a site n'inye ha ụmụaka kwa afọ," he said calmly, not looking up.
Dayo raised an eyebrow, dropping his car keys onto the table with a soft clink. "If I told you I didn't understand a word of that, you'd swear I was faking."
That earned a hearty laugh from Raymond. Finally, he paused the game, leaning back in his chair with a look of satisfaction.
"I said, 'These kids keep blessing the family with babies every year.'" His grin deepened.
He clapped once. Within seconds, a maid emerged carrying a chilled bottle of wine and two crystal martini glasses. She placed them on the table with grace and disappeared without a word.
Another clap.
The discreet bodyguards posted around the courtyard quietly melted into the background, fading like shadows. It was now just the two of them—two friends, two legends in their own right.
Raymond Emeka Okeke Okafor and Adedayo Felix Coker Ayomide. Titans of industry. Brothers beyond blood. Both in their early fifties, still sharp, still strong, still full of life. Their bond had been forged through decades of hustle, heartbreak, and hard-won success.
Forbes had tried, more than once, to weigh who was wealthier. The numbers often landed side by side. But neither of them cared. Their friendship was never a competition—it was a legacy shared.
Their children. Their empires. Their history. It all told the same story: two men who had built kingdoms from dust.
And now, over a simple game of Ayoayò, and a bottle of wine, they exhaled.
Legends in leisure.
Raymond poured the rich red Polish wine into two glasses. "Next week, my mansion's going to turn into a madhouse," he said with a weary smile.
Dayo took a sip from his glass. "You're going to have to get used to it. The grandkids are starting to visit."
Raymond sighed and shook his head. "I might just tell Nkechi I've got some urgent business in Norway. Those kids are too noisy, too much. If I stick around for their visit, I might not make it out in one piece."
"Really?" Dayo laughed. "What a terrible liar. You know Ella—she'll tear into you when she finds out. And besides, you never go anywhere without her. Have you forgotten?"
Raymond tilted his head as if contemplating it. "Hmm, maybe she'll let me off this time. But seriously, Dayo, you need to see these kids when they come over. I don't mind if they destroy the place, just don't let them destroy my peace of mind."
"So, wait," Dayo said, setting down his glass, "their parents just drop them off and disappear?"
"Dude," Raymond groaned, "you won't see them for a whole month. That's even worse than disappearing, isn't it?"
Dayo chuckled, shaking his head in sympathy for his friend, now the grandfather of eight. "Hey, Ray, more are coming, you know." He raised his glass with a grin. "Cheers to that."
Raymond furrowed his brows. "Seriously? You really want me to die untimely?"
Dayo shrugged innocently. "Come on, it's not like they're going to stop having kids. Plus, your youngest is still there—don't you think he'll get married and start having kids too?"
Raymond was silent for a moment, as if thinking it over, then suddenly grinned. "Speaking of Jideofor... I think he likes your daughter."
Dayo almost choked on his drink. His brows shot up. "Wait—your son, Jideofor Tristan Ejiofor Okafor, likes my daughter, Sharon?"
"Yep," Raymond replied, still grinning. But when Dayo burst into laughter, Raymond's expression changed. "What's so funny?"
"Well, you're making it sound like a joke," Dayo said, still laughing. The thought of nerdy Jide and wild Sharon together was just too funny.
Raymond leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "So you didn't notice anything at the wedding we went to a couple of months ago?"
"What wedding?" Dayo asked, genuinely puzzled.
Raymond slapped his forehead, already annoyed by his best friend's act.
Realizing his friend wasn't playing along anymore, Dayo straightened up. "Okay, fine. I saw what happened, but that was just a normal wedding thing."
It had been one of their friend's daughter's weddings in Finland, where Sharon had caught the bouquet, and Jide had snagged the garter.
It wasn't planned. Just a coincidence.
Sharon had hoped to avoid the part of the wedding where she had to sit while Jide removed the garter from her thigh with his teeth. But there was no way out.
As soon as he succeeded and pulled the garter free, Sharon jumped up and ran out of the reception hall, her face burning with shame.
To everyone's surprise, Jide followed her. What happened next—only God knows.
"No," Dayo said, forcing down a smile and schooling his face into neutrality.
Raymond, however, was amused. He'd always dreamed of his son marrying Dayo's daughter. "What do you mean, 'No'? Dayo, if you ask me, Sharon and Jide actually make a great pair—if you look at it from the right angle."
"As if they care about your angle?" Dayo sighed, sounding tired. "Ray, we've been friends since childhood. We know each other's kids inside out. You know Sharon the way I do—she's my daughter, after all."
"I get it," Raymond said. "But Jide is already in love with her." When Dayo raised a skeptical brow, he added, "I'm serious. He called me last night—and again this morning—begging me to ask you for Sharon's phone number."
Dayo rubbed his temples. "Ray, you don't get it. I'm not trying to be difficult. I just don't want anything to ruin what we've built—our friendship. We've come too far for something like this to get in the way."
"How would it ruin anything?"
Dayo exhaled slowly. "Jide is a good boy—honest, respectful, hardworking. But Sharon…" He shook his head. "She's wild, Ray. Reckless. She's not that innocent little girl anymore. And I hate to say it, but I doubt she's even a virgin. If your son wants to be with her, he's in for a rough ride."
Raymond chuckled quietly. "Exactly. That's why she needs you—to talk to her, guide her. That's why she's your daughter."
Dayo stared at Raymond for a long moment before swirling the drink in his glass. "You really think it's that simple? Look, I'm glad Sharon is doing well in her career. She's breaking records, making moves—but settling down? She's not there yet. Not even close. No matter how much her mother and I have talked, pushed, encouraged… she just won't budge. She's too stubborn. Too independent. And Jide? He's a good kid, Ray. But he's too soft for someone like her."
Raymond leaned forward, lowering his voice with quiet urgency. "Dayo, come on. These are our kids. If we guide them, support them, they could be a perfect match. Jide is already all in—completely gone for her. I don't know what she did to him, but this is the most emotionally invested I've ever seen him. You know how quiet he's always been. How reserved. He's never been the type to chase anyone. And now, he's calling me at night just to get her number."
He paused, then added softly, "Don't do this to him. Not now. Help me—for old times' sake. Jide is the only one in the family still single. And now that he's finally found someone who makes his heart race… I just want to give him a chance. I know you want Sharon to find someone too. Maybe this—maybe this is her moment. Her fate. Let them try. Who knows what could come out of it?"
Dayo was silent.
Seconds passed. Then more. He didn't say a word—his mind racing, weighing the possibilities. Deep down, he knew Raymond had a point. Their children were at the age where they needed connection. Stability. And maybe—just maybe—each other.
But how could he suggest it to Sharon without breaking her trust? She'd never forgive him if she found out he was behind a setup. She'd call it manipulation, maybe even betrayal.
What neither of them realized was that Jide wasn't waiting for their approval anymore.
He was already in Japan, making plans to see Sharon face-to-face. Quietly, boldly, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. His patience had worn thin. Every passing second felt heavier than the last.
This wasn't just a crush for Jide—it was something deeper. Something real.
And there was one secret both fathers didn't know.
A memory. A spark. A quiet, reckless fling from their children's university days—something only Sharon and Jide shared.
Something that had stayed with Jide ever since university days.
Something Sharon might not even remember…
But Jide never forgot.