I’m Natasha, the CEO of Sunnyville Enterprises, a successful businesswoman with a warm and jovial personality. At 38, I’ve achieved professional success, but my personal life is a different story. My chubby physique and advancing age have led to rejection and disappointment in my quest for love and marriage. As I approach 40, the pressure to settle down and start a family weighs heavily on my mind.
One afternoon, during my lunch break, I stepped out to grab a bite at a nearby café. As I savoured my meal, my former employee, Rachel, who I had fired for embezzling funds from my company, stormed in. Her eyes blazed with malice as she began to taunt me, her venomous words piercing my soul. “Look at you, Natasha, almost 40 and still single! You’re a failure in every aspect of your life!” she sneered. I remained silent, my smile masking the pain her cruel words inflicted.
Unknown to me, a young artist, Jidenna, 27, had been observing the scene unfold. He was struck by my silence and grace in the face of adversity. Inspired, he quickly sketched me on paper, capturing the essence of my painful smile. As Rachel departed, Jidenna discreetly handed the drawing to a waitress, instructing her to deliver it to me.
Moments later, the waitress approached me, holding out the sketch. “Someone wanted you to have this,” she said with a smile. I unfolded the paper, and my eyes widened as I took in the stunning likeness of myself. Beneath the drawing, Jidenna had penned, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Don’t let anyone steal your happiness from you.” Tears dropped from the corners of my eyes as I scanned the café, hoping to catch a glimpse of my mysterious benefactor. Alas, he had vanished, leaving behind only his poignant artwork and a renewed sense of hope within me.
As I gazed at the drawing, a sense of wonder washed over me. The simple yet powerful gesture had disarmed me, reminding me that kindness still existed in a world that often seemed too cruel. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders as if Jidenna’s words had somehow absolved me of the shame and self-doubt that had been plaguing me.
With happy energy, I finished my lunch and returned to the office, the drawing safely tucked away in my bag. The rest of the day flew by within a twinkle of an eye, my focus sharpened by the unexpected encounter. I tackled challenges with a fresh perspective, my confidence boosted by the knowledge that someone out there found me attractive and believed in me.
As the sun set over the city, I found myself pondering the mystery of Jidenna’s identity. Who was this young artist who had seen beyond my façade and touched my heart? I longed to thank him, to tell him how his gesture had impacted me. But he had vanished without a trace, leaving me with only the drawing and my imagination.
Days turned into weeks, and the memory of Jidenna’s kindness lingered, a reminder of the power of human connection. I began to approach my life with a renewed sense of purpose, my relationships with others deepening as I learned to appreciate the beauty in small gestures. And though I never forgot the young artist who had touched my heart, I realized that his true gift lay not in the drawing itself but in the courage he had inspired within me.
As I wandered through the supermarket aisles, lost in thought, my gaze scanning the shelves for the perfect ingredients, I was unaware of the surprise that awaited me. Jidenna, the mysterious artist, had also entered the store, his eyes locking onto mine with a spark of recognition. Before I could even register his presence, he had swiftly sketched me once more, capturing the essence of my being with his deft strokes.
This time, he added a romantic message, his words dripping with sincerity: “Hi, charming Natasha, fate has brought us together again. Your smile has brightened my days, and your strength has inspired me. I long to know the beauty behind your eyes, to explore the depths of your heart. May our paths continue to cross, and may our connection grow stronger.”
As I reached for a jar of sauce, a gentle tap on my shoulder broke my concentration. A store employee, holding out the drawing, smiled kindly. “A guy asked me to give this to you, ma’am.” My heart skipped a beat as I unfolded the paper, my eyes drinking in the tender words and the stunning likeness of myself.
My soul soared with excitement, my mind racing with the possibility of finally meeting this enigmatic stranger. I turned to the employee, my voice barely containing my eagerness. “Where is he? The guy who gave you this?” She gestured towards the entrance, “He just stepped outside, ma’am.” I hastily abandoned my shopping cart, my feet carrying me swiftly towards the exit, my heart pounding with anticipation.
But as I burst through the doors, scanning the crowded parking lot, my eyes searched in vain for a glimpse of Jidenna’s familiar smile. He had vanished once more, leaving behind only the drawing, his words, and the promise of a connection that seemed destined to flourish. My heart still raced, my spirit lifted by the knowledge that our paths would cross again, that our story was far from over.
A few Days Later…
As I sat at my desk, immersed in the routine of another busy day at the office, the sudden arrival of a delivery guy broke the flow. He handed me a sleek, black frame, adorned with a beautiful drawing that took my breath away. My eyes widened as I opened it, revealing the intricate artwork that seemed to pulse with life.
My heart skipped a beat as I read the words that accompanied the drawing, penned in a handwriting that was both familiar and endearing. “I wish I were a little bit closer to your age,” Jidenna’s message began, “I would love to give you the love you need. I’m only 27.” My smile grew wider as I gazed at the drawing, my eyes drinking in the beauty of the woman he had captured on paper.
For a moment, I forgot about the age gap, the doubts, and the fears that had held me back. All that mattered was the sincerity in his words, the longing in his eyes, and the way he made me feel seen and appreciated. I felt like a work of art, cherished and admired, my beauty finally recognized by someone who truly mattered.
As I turned to the delivery guy, my eyes sparkling with excitement, I asked the question that had become a constant refrain in my mind: “Who is this guy? How did he know where to find me?” But the delivery guy simply shrugged, his expression apologetic. “He didn’t say, ma’am. He just asked me to deliver this to your office.”
My mind raced with possibilities as I gazed at the drawing, my thoughts whirling with the implications of Jidenna’s words. How did he know my office address? Had he been following me, learning more about me, watching me from afar? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but it wasn’t fear that I felt – it was anticipation.
I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if I were to let my guard down, to allow Jidenna to get closer, to see if our connection was strong enough to bridge the gap between our ages.
My heart raced at the prospect, my soul urging me to take a chance, to see where this journey would lead. As I sat there, surrounded by the familiar comforts of my office, I knew that I couldn’t ignore the call of my heart, the whisper of a love that seemed to be waiting just beyond the horizon.
Four days had passed, and my mind was still bubbling from the impact of Jidenna’s drawings and words. I found myself lost in thought, reliving the moments when I first saw his artwork, his messages, and the way he made me feel. My days became warm, my heart skipping beats as I recalled the beauty of his creations.
My colleagues and friends began to notice the change in me, the way I would suddenly smile for no apparent reason, my eyes sparkling with a joy that couldn’t be contained. They would ask, curious about the source of my happiness, but I would simply smile and shrug, unable to share the secret of Jidenna’s drawings and the way they made me feel.
As the days went by, my longing to meet Jidenna grew stronger. I found myself wondering if he would ever reach out again if our paths would cross in a more meaningful way. And so, I decided to take a chance, to visit the cafe where our story first began, hoping against hope that he might be there, waiting for me.
I sat at the same table, sipping my coffee, my eyes scanning the room. But as the hours ticked by, my excitement gave way to disappointment. There was no sign of Jidenna, no new drawings, no messages. I left the cafe that day with a heavy heart, my hopes dashed against the rocks of reality.
As I walked home, the city streets seemed dull and grey the world around me lacking the vibrancy that Jidenna’s artwork had brought to my life. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been foolish to hope, to dream that our connection could be more than just a fleeting moment of beauty. But even in disappointment, my heart refused to let go of the memories, the drawings, and the words that had captured my soul.
The next morning, as I settled into my office routine, a familiar sight caught my attention – a delivery guy came in with a mysterious package that seemed to hold secrets and promises. My heart skipped a beat as I accepted the box, my mind racing with possibilities, my thoughts whirling with the potential implications of this unexpected delivery.
With trembling hands, I opened the box, revealing a stunning flower that seemed to symbolize hope and renewal, its delicate petals a testament to the beauty of life. And then, my eyes landed on a note, its words penned in a handwriting that had become all too familiar, yet still managed to send shivers down my spine.
“Do you miss me?” Jidenna’s message read, his words piercing my soul like a gentle breeze on a summer day, the simplicity of the question belied by the depth of emotion it evoked. Before I could even process my response, I found myself exclaiming, “Yes, I do!” – the words tumbling out of my lips like a confession, a surrender to the emotions that had been building inside me.
Quickly regaining my composure, I continued reading, my eyes devouring every word, every phrase, every sentence that Jidenna had written. In the next paragraph, he revealed a location near my office, instructing me to drop off the “pepper” (a clever code, I presumed) if I indeed missed him. My heart raced with excitement as I grasped the implication – he wanted to meet me, to reconnect in a way that went beyond mere messages and drawings.
The location he specified was a small, quaint shop nearby, its unassuming exterior belied by the thrill that awaited me within. I entered the shop, my eyes scanning the shelves until I spotted the designated spot, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. With a sense of hope and anticipation, I deposited the “pepper” (a small, elegant box, it turned out) and made my way back to the office, my mind bubbling with the possibilities that lay ahead.
What would happen next? Only time would tell, but one thing was certain – my life was about to change in ways I never thought possible. The encounter, the drawing, the messages – all had been leading up to this moment, this chance to connect with someone who saw me, truly saw me, in a way that few others ever had. As I returned to my office, my heart still racing with excitement, I knew that I was ready, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead, ready to see where this journey would take me.
Two days later, my heart was still racing from the excitement of our last encounter when another delivery guy appeared at my office, handing me a white pepper. I opened it with trembling fingers, my eyes widening as I read the message inside. Jidenna was asking me out on a date! My soul soared as I read the address and his instructions – if I could make it that night, I should leave the pepper in the same spot as before, but if I couldn’t, I should hold onto it, a symbol of our connection.
I was over the moon with excitement, my happiness bubbling over like a fountain. I quickly rushed out to deposit the pepper, my heart skipping beats in anticipation of our evening together. And then, at 7 pm, I made my way to the address he had given me, my nerves tingling with expectation.
As I sat down at a table, I didn’t notice him at first, my eyes scanning the room for a glimpse of a man’s smile. But then, suddenly, he was there, standing in front of me, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that left me breathless. I felt like I was drowning in their depths, my soul surrendering to the connection we shared.
He sat down across from me, our eyes never leaving each other’s, the air between us thick with tension. “Hi,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine. “Fine evening.” I was lost, my words caught in my throat as I gazed at him, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re the artist,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Jidenna.” His name felt like a prayer on my lips, a benediction that sealed our fate together.
The silence that followed was palpable, our eyes speaking a language that transcended words. We sat there, suspended in time, our souls entwined in a dance that only we could see. And then, without thinking, I reached out, my hand brushing against his, the touch sending sparks through my entire being.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he whispered, his eyes burning with intensity. “I’ve been waiting for you.” My heart melted at his words, my soul soaring on the wings of our connection.
We sat there, hands touching, eyes locked, our hearts beating as one, the world around us fading into insignificance.
After a night filled with laughter, conversation, and a deepening connection, we reluctantly parted ways, each of us returning to our own homes. But as I lay in bed, my mind refused to let go of the memories we had created together. I couldn’t stop smiling to myself, reliving the moments we had shared, my heart still soaring from the thrill of our encounter.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone rang, piercing the silence of the night. I knew it was him, and my heart skipped a beat as I answered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Hello?”
“Hey, just wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said, his voice low and gentle, filled with a concern that melted my heart. I felt cared for, loved, and appreciated in a way I never had before.
“Yes, I’m home,” I replied, my voice filled with a warmth that mirrored his own. We talked and laughed some more, the conversation flowing effortlessly, until finally, we both paused, reluctant to end the call.
But neither of us could hang up, hoping to hear something more, something that would seal our connection forever. And then, he asked, his voice hesitant, “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” I replied, my heart pounding in anticipation.
“Waiting for what?” he asked, his tone playful.
“I’m waiting to hear that thing you want to say,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
We both laughed, the tension building, until finally, he spoke the words that would change everything. “I don’t know if it’s the right time to say it or if it’s too early, but I want to tell you that I love you.”
My heart soared, my smile illuminating the darkness of my room. “No, it doesn’t matter,” I replied, my voice filled with emotion. “I love you too.”
We laughed again, the joy and happiness we shared in that moment impossible to contain. And with that, we ended the call, our hearts full, our souls connected in a way that only love can achieve.
The next day, Jidenna found himself utterly unable to focus on his work, his mind consumed by thoughts of me. His pencils and sketchbook became his solace, as he furiously drew image after image of my smiling face, my laughing eyes, and my radiant beauty. His colleagues noticed the change in him, one of his closest friends teasing him good-naturedly as he stood by his side. “Lover boy, eh? Still falling hard, I see!”
Jidenna’s response was a sheepish grin, his eyes never leaving his paper as he continued to draw. “I’m too old for him,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, yet his heart refused to listen. His friend chuckled knowingly, patting him on the back. “She’ll be serving you breakfast in bed soon enough, mark my words!”
Meanwhile, I was faring no better at my own office, my usual composure replaced by a goofy grin that seemed to plaster itself on my face without warning.
My coworkers exchanged curious glances, wondering what had brought about this sudden change in their normally reserved boss. Even I couldn’t explain it, my mind whirling with thoughts of Jidenna’s charming smile, his bright eyes, his gentle touch.
As the afternoon sun began to wane, I found myself reaching for my phone, my fingers dialling Jidenna’s number without conscious thought. He answered on the first ring, his voice warm and reassuring. “Hey, beautiful. How’s your day going?”
We talked for hours, our conversations flowing effortlessly, our laughter intertwining like the threads of a tapestry. When we finally hung up, I felt a sense of peace settle over me, knowing that our connection was and that our love was growing with each passing moment.
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, our love continued to flourish, but the challenges of a relationship began to manifest. Jidenna’s friends, who had initially been supportive of our connection, started to worry about his increasingly singular focus on me. “Dude, you need to snap out of it,” they’d say, as he spent hours sketching me, thinking about me, and talking to me. “You’re neglecting your work, your hobbies, your life!”
Jidenna would brush off their concerns, but deep down, he knew they were right. His art was suffering, his deadlines were being pushed back, and his usually vibrant personality was becoming dull and one-dimensional. I, too, was experiencing my own set of problems. My workers were starting to feel neglected, my projects were piling up, and my investors were growing restless.
We tried to make time for each other, but our schedules were increasingly conflicting. Jidenna would plan a surprise visit to my office, only to find me in a meeting or on a deadline. I would promise to attend his art exhibitions, but end up stuck in traffic or dealing with an emergency. The distance between us began to feel like an insurmountable obstacle, our conversations becoming strained and superficial.
We started to wonder if our love was strong enough to overcome the practicalities of life. Jidenna felt like he was losing himself in me like he was disappearing into the vortex of our relationship. I felt like I was suffocating under the pressure of my responsibilities like I was drowning in a sea of expectations. We both felt like we were losing our sense of identity, our individuality, our very selves.
And yet, despite the struggles, despite the doubts, despite the fears, our love remained a constant, a beacon of hope in the darkness.
We knew that we needed to find a way to make it work, to reconcile our love with our lives, to merge our passions with our responsibilities.
Two days later…
I received an invitation from Jidenna to meet him at his studio that afternoon. I arrived, expecting to see him working on a new art piece or perhaps a surprise for me. But what I saw made my heart shatter into a million pieces.
Jidenna was holding another woman, kissing her with passion and intensity. I felt like I had been punched in the gut, my breath knocked out of me. I called out to him, my voice shaking with tears, but he just laughed, a sound that pierced my soul like a dagger.
His friends laughing like they knew I was coming.
I couldn’t bear the sight any longer. I turned and ran, tears streaming down my face like a river. I couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t catch my breath. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair like the world had come crashing down around me.
The next day, Jidenna’s calls flooded my phone, each ring a reminder of the pain and heartache he had caused. He left message after message, his voice laced with concern and confusion. “Hey, what’s going on? Why aren’t you answering my calls? Is everything okay?”
But I remained silent, my heart still reeling from the shock of what I had seen. I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to him, of hearing his voice, of reliving the betrayal. So I let the calls go to voicemail, let the messages pile up, let the silence speak for itself.
But Jidenna refused to give up. He kept calling, kept texting, kept trying to reach me, to understand what had gone wrong. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice cracking with worry. “Did I hurt you somehow? Please, just talk to me, let me know what’s going on.”
His words were laced with desperation, with a sense of urgency that only made me more determined to stay silent. I didn’t want to hear his excuses, his justifications, his empty promises. I didn’t want to relive the pain, the heartache, the betrayal. So I remained silent, my heart locked away, my emotions hidden behind a mask of stone.
As Jidenna continued to try to reach me, his friends couldn’t help but mock him. “Haha, looks like you’re getting served breakfast, buddy!” they teased, their laughter echoing in his ears. “We told you, we told you, she’s got your number!”
Jidenna tried to ignore them, but their jokes and snickers only made him more frustrated. “Guys, come on, I’m serious. Something’s wrong, and I need to talk to her.”
But his friends just wouldn’t give up. “Oh, sure, sure, you’re concerned about her. That’s why you’re calling her nonstop, right?” they sneered, their sarcasm thick and heavy.
Jidenna’s face grew hot with embarrassment and anger. He knew his friends were just trying to get a rise out of him, but their words stung nonetheless. Finally, he’d had enough. “You know what? Forget it. I’m out of here,” he said, storming out of the room, leaving his friends’ mocking laughter behind.
He went home, feeling defeated and humiliated. Why was I ignoring him? What had he done wrong? The questions swirled in his head like a vortex, driving him crazy with worry and uncertainty.
The next morning, Jidenna appeared at my office, determined to uncover the reason behind my silence. As he approached my desk, my expression transformed, my eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “What do you want, Jidenna?” I asked curtly, my voice devoid of warmth.
“Hey, baby,” he said, his tone soft and endearing, but I wasn’t having it.
“What are you doing here, Jidenna?” I pressed, my words firm.
“I came to find out what’s wrong,” he replied, his eyes searching mine for a glimmer of understanding. “What did I do to upset you?”
I laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “You don’t remember, do you?” I sneered. “You don’t recall what I saw at your studio yesterday?”
Jidenna’s face went blank, confusion etched on his features. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice laced with innocence.
My anger boiled over. “Don’t play dumb, Jidenna!” I snapped. “I saw you kissing that woman, that…that…thing! You were all over her, and you have the nerve to come here and act like nothing’s wrong?”
Jidenna’s eyes widened in shock, his face pale. “No, no, no,” he protested, his voice rising. “That’s not what happened, I swear. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But I wasn’t listening. “Get out,” I spat, my voice venomous. “Get out of my office, and never come back. You’re dead to me, Jidenna.”
He tried to plead, to explain, but I wouldn’t hear it. I called security, and they escorted him out, his protests echoing down the hallway as he was forcibly removed from my presence. And with that, our relationship was over, reduced to ashes and dust.
As the security guard firmly ushered him out of the office building, Jidenna’s face burned with shame and embarrassment. He trudged back to his studio, his feet heavy with the weight of his confusion. How could I accuse him of such a thing? He couldn’t recall any incident that would warrant such anger and hurt.
Upon arriving at the studio, he relayed the entire encounter to his friends, hoping they could offer some insight or support. But instead, they exchanged knowing glances and burst out laughing. “Dude, you really don’t remember, do you?” one of them teased, chuckling.
Jidenna’s frustration mounted as his friends continued to mock him. “Guys, come on, this isn’t funny. I’m serious, I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
But their laughter only grew louder, their jokes more biting. “Looks like someone’s got a case of selective amnesia!” another friend quipped, guffawing.
Jidenna’s face reddened as he tried to defend himself, but their words stung too deeply. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of embarrassment and shame. His friends’ relentless teasing finally drove him to leave the studio, unable to bear their mocking gaze any longer.
As he wandered the streets, his mind reeled with questions. What had he done? Why couldn’t he remember? The uncertainty gnawed at him like a festering wound. His creative spark, usually so vibrant and alive, was now extinguished, leaving him feeling lost and useless. He couldn’t draw, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape the crushing weight of his confusion.
Days later…
Jidenna had been trying to make amends, showing up at my doorstep multiple times, hoping to apologize and explain himself. But I was still hurting from our last encounter and wasn’t ready to forgive. I chased him away each time, my resolve firm.
The last time he came, I was particularly fed up. I opened the door, and he stood there, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. But I was unmoved. I took a bucket of water and poured it over him, a symbol of my frustration and anger. “Leave me alone, Jidenna!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the neighbourhood. “Don’t come near me again!”
He looked crestfallen, his clothes soaked and his dignity bruised. But I didn’t care. I slammed the door shut, leaving him standing there, a stark reminder of the consequences of his actions. Little did I know, that would be the last time I saw him.
As the days turned into a week, Jidenna’s absence from work became a growing concern. His friends, who had once mocked him, now seemed genuinely worried. They even ventured to my office, seeking any information about his whereabouts. “We haven’t seen him at home, and he hasn’t shown up at work for days,” one of them explained, their faces etched with concern.
I listened, my worries simmering just below the surface. Despite our tumultuous encounter, I had missed Jidenna dearly. His absence had left a gaping hole in my life, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay. But I couldn’t reveal my true feelings to his friends, so I simply shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s been a while since I last saw him,” I said, my voice even.
His friends exchanged uneasy glances, their silence speaking volumes. They knew something was amiss, but they didn’t press me for details. Instead, they left my office, their faces clouded with worry.
A few days ago, one of my ex-boyfriends asked me to date him again. As I was grappling with my concerns about Jidenna, he came in just as Jidenna’s friends left, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I know this may not be the right time,” he began, “but I can’t help how I feel. I love you, and I want to be with you. Will you consider dating me again?”
I was taken aback, my mind reeling with the sudden turn of events. Jidenna’s disappearance, my lingering feelings for him, and now this new proposal – it was all too much to process. I needed time to think, to sort out my emotions, but my ex-boyfriend seemed eager to sweep me off my feet. I hesitated, didn’t know what to say.
What do you think she should do?
Days passed after my ex-boyfriend left, and I found myself missing Jidenna more than ever. His absence weighed heavily on my heart, and despite my attempts to move on, thoughts of him lingered in every corner of my mind.
One afternoon, unexpectedly, Jidenna’s friends returned to my office. Their expressions were grave, their demeanour serious as they approached me.
“We need to talk,” one of them said, his voice tinged with urgency.
I looked at them curiously, wondering what could be so important that they had come back after all this time.
“We owe you an explanation,” another friend began, his eyes avoiding mine as if he couldn’t bear to see my reaction.
I felt a knot form in my stomach as I waited for them to continue. The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension.
“Jidenna… he’s innocent,” the first friend finally blurted out. “We… we did something terrible.”
My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to comprehend their words. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
They exchanged uneasy glances before one of them spoke again. “That woman you saw with Jidenna… we orchestrated the whole thing,” he confessed, his voice filled with guilt. “We put something in his drink that afternoon. He had no idea who she was or what was happening.”
Shock and disbelief washed over me as their words sank in. The betrayal I felt was overwhelming. Not just by Jidenna, but by his friends who had misled me into thinking the worst of him.
“You… you set him up?” I stammered, struggling to process the magnitude of their deception.
They nodded solemnly, their faces etched with remorse. “We thought it would be funny,” another friend muttered, his voice laced with shame. “But we never expected it to go this far.”
Anger boiled within me, hot and fierce. I had been so quick to judge Jidenna, so eager to believe the worst based on what I saw. And all this time, he had been innocent, unaware of the betrayal unfolding around him.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the extent of my mistake. I had pushed him away without giving him a chance to explain, without even considering that there might be more to the story.
“I… I can’t believe this,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. “I betrayed him.”
Their silence was deafening, a painful acknowledgement of the damage they had caused. “We’re so sorry,” one of them finally said, his voice choked with emotion. “We never meant for any of this to happen.”
I shook my head, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions crashing over me. “Where is he now?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
They exchanged glances once more before one of them spoke up. “He’s been avoiding us,” he admitted. “We’ve tried to reach out, but he won’t respond.”
Guilt washed over me in waves as I realized the consequences of their actions. Jidenna had been hurt and betrayed, and now he was nowhere to be found. All because of me, because I hadn’t given him a chance to sort things out.
“I need to find him,” I said determinedly, wiping away tears with the back of my hand. “I need to make things right.”
His friends nodded solemnly, their expressions filled with remorse. “We’ll help however we can,” one of them offered quietly.
With renewed determination, I gathered my things and left the office, my heart set on finding Jidenna and seeking his forgiveness.
After I and his friends left to look for him, we searched all day but we didn’t see him. I came back home that night and was restless. I couldn’t eat because of the guilt I felt, because I didn’t give him enough chance to defend himself.
The next day, I went back to his studio and it was only his friends I met there. They were all tired of the whole thing they had caused.
“I just can’t believe we can’t find him,” I said, my voice tinged with desperation. “Do any of you know his family members? Maybe we could go tell them what’s happening.”
One of his friends shook his head solemnly. “He’s an only child. He lost his parents years back.”
The weight of their words hit me like a ton of bricks. I wept openly, feeling the profound loneliness Jidenna must be experiencing. “Take me to his house,” I pleaded. “I need to find him.”
They agreed and led me to his home. As we entered, the first thing that caught my eye was the beautiful pictures of me, meticulously drawn and hung all over his room. Each portrait captured a different moment, a different emotion, a different piece of our shared history.
Tears streamed down my face as I walked through the room, my fingers lightly grazing the drawings. Each one was a testament to his love and his dedication. The guilt and regret gnawed at me even more fiercely now. How could I have doubted someone who cared so deeply for me?
One of his friends gently touched my shoulder. “He loved you so much. We never realized how much until we saw this.”
I nodded, unable to speak through the lump in my throat. I left his house that day, driving home with tears blurring my vision. The images of the drawings haunted me, each one a reminder of the love I had pushed away.
That night, I barely slept. I tossed and turned, my mind filled with thoughts of Jidenna and the pain I had caused him. I knew I had to find a way to make things right, to show him how much he meant to me.
The following morning, I decided to go back to the lake. It was a place we had visited often, a place where we had shared some of our happiest moments. I hoped against hope that he might be there, seeking solace by the water’s edge.
As I approached the lake, I saw a familiar figure sitting on the dock, staring out at the water. My heart leapt in my chest, but as I got closer, I realized it wasn’t Jidenna. It was another person, a stranger, lost in their own thoughts.
Disappointment washed over me, but I couldn’t give up. “Excuse me,” I called out to the person. “Have you seen a man, about this tall? He might have been here recently.”
The stranger looked up, their eyes kind but apologetic. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen anyone like that.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, turning back to my car, the weight of despair settling back onto my shoulders. I drove home that day, tears blurring my vision as I navigated the winding roads. The ache in my heart was almost unbearable, and the images of his drawings haunted me, each one a reminder of the love I had pushed away.
Back home, I collapsed onto my bed, the exhaustion and emotional turmoil finally catching up to me. I cried myself to sleep, the hope of finding Jidenna slipping further away with each passing day.
But I couldn’t give up. The next morning, I woke up with renewed determination. I had to keep searching. I owed it to him, and to myself, to make things right.
The following days were a blur of phone calls, visits to places we had been together, and endless questions to anyone who might have seen him. His friends were supportive, but we all felt the growing weight of worry and guilt.
One evening, as I was driving home, my phone rang. It was one of Jidenna’s friends. “We might have a lead,” he said, his voice cautious but hopeful. “Someone saw him at the old art supply store downtown. It’s a long shot, but it’s something.”
Clutching onto that sliver of hope, I turned my car around and headed to the store, praying that this time, I would find him.
We rushed to the old art supply store, hearts pounding with anticipation. But when we arrived, it wasn’t Jidenna they had seen. It was another person, just a fleeting resemblance that had sparked false hope.
Two days later, I was in my office with my ex. I had told him about Jidenna and how everything happened and how he was nowhere to be found. As I shared tears, my ex took the opportunity and held me close. Just as he whispered, “I’m sorry,” he brought his mouth to mine and kissed me.
At that moment, the door opened and there stood Jidenna. His head was bandaged and he held a flower in his hand. He was so shocked he couldn’t believe his eyes. As we saw him, I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Before I could say a word, tears were dropping from his eyes. He was so disappointed.
As I tried to explain to him, he quietly dropped the flower he was holding and left. I wanted to go after him but my ex drew me back. “Is he the Jidenna?” he asked.
I nodded.
He laughed and said, “I can’t believe it’s that small boy you’re dating.”
I wasn’t taking it from my ex, so I ran after Jidenna. When I came outside, I didn’t see him again.
Jidenna stormed into his studio, his mind reeling from the shocking scene he had just witnessed in my office. His friends, who had been searching for him everywhere, were overjoyed to see him and immediately began begging for his forgiveness. But Jidenna was confused, unsure of what they were apologizing for. “What are you guys talking about?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration. “What do you need my forgiveness for?”
One of his friends hesitated, looking guilty. “We need to tell you something, Jidenna. We did something terrible to you.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We put something in your drink that afternoon, and we set you up with that girl… the one Natasha saw you kissing.”
Jidenna’s eyes widened in disbelief as tears began to stream down his face. He felt betrayed, hurt, and angry all at once. “How could you do that to me?” he demanded, his voice shaking with emotion. “What did I ever do to deserve that from you, my so-called friends?”
Just then, I burst into the studio, my heart racing with anxiety. “Jidenna, please listen to me,” I begged, rushing towards him. “What you saw in my office, it wasn’t supposed to happen. I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
But Jidenna cut me off, his eyes blazing with pain and anger. “You know, I thought I was going crazy,” he began, his voice low and even. “I couldn’t remember what happened that day, but I knew something was off. And now I know why.”
He took a deep breath before continuing, his words spilling out like a torrent. “A car hit me that day after you poured water on me and told me never to come back. I was in the hospital for weeks, and when I finally came out, I saw another man kissing you. And now, I came here, and I hear my so-called friends begging for forgiveness for something they did to me?”
His eyes scanned the room, taking in the guilty faces of his friends and my pleading expression. “You know what? It’s fine. You’ve all made your choices. I don’t want to see any of you again, especially you,” he said, his gaze piercing mine. “Follow the ‘matured man’ you’re with, and leave me alone.”
With that, he turned and walked out of the studio, leaving us all in stunned silence, the weight of our guilt and regret hanging heavy in the air.
I stood there for minutes before I could walk, I went home that afternoon. As I walked through the front door of my house that afternoon, my mind was consumed by thoughts of Jidenna and the tumultuous events that had unfolded. My heart ached with every breath, and my soul felt heavy with the weight of my guilt.
I couldn’t shake off the image of Jidenna’s tear-stained face, his eyes filled with pain and betrayal. I dialled his number repeatedly, but he refused to answer my calls. I sent text after text, pleading with him to talk to me, but he remained silent.
As the evening drew in, my ex, Austin, came to my house, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that made my skin crawl. He tried to wrap his arms around me, to touch me, to pull me close, but I pushed him away, my anger and frustration boiling over.
“Austin, how can you be so insensitive?” I demanded, my voice trembling with emotion. “Can’t you see I’m hurting? Can’t you see I need support and comfort, not your selfish desires?”
He looked taken aback, his face twisted in a scowl. “What’s going on, Natasha? Why are you pushing me away?”
I glared at him, my eyes blazing with tears. “You only care about yourself, Austin. You only think about your own needs, your desires. You don’t care about my pain, my tears, my broken heart. All you care about is getting what you want, no matter who you hurt in the process.”
He sneered, his lips curling into a snarl. “And I suppose that little rat, Jidenna, is the one who’s got you all torn up, huh? The one who can’t even take care of himself?”
My eyes flashed with anger, my voice rising to a shout. “That little rat, as you call him, makes me feel seen, heard, and loved in ways you never could, Austin. He makes me feel special, cherished, and cared for. And that’s something you’ll never be able to do, no matter how hard you try.”
With that, I turned him around and marched him out of my house, slamming the door shut behind him. I returned to my phone, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I typed out another text to Jidenna, praying that this time, he would answer. But the silence was deafening, and I was left alone with my tears, my heart heavy with sorrow and regret.
The next day, I decided to take a chance and visit Jidenna at his house, hoping to find him and finally have the chance to explain everything. But when I arrived, he wasn’t there, and I knew I had to track him down to his studio. I drove straight there, my heart racing with anticipation and nervousness.
As I entered the studio, I spotted Jidenna sitting in deep contemplation, lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even notice me walking in, and I had to tap him gently on the shoulder to snap him out of his reverie. He turned to me, a mix of surprise and wariness on his face. “Natasha, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice guarded.
I took a deep breath and knelt before him, my eyes locked on his. “Jidenna, I need to tell you something,” I began, my voice trembling. “I swear to you, I’m not dating Austin. Everything I told you yesterday was true. He showed up at my house, but I turned him down. It’s you, Jidenna, it’s only you I want to be with.”
I poured out my heart to him, telling him every detail, every feeling, every thought. I confessed how much I loved him, how much I needed him. And as I spoke, I could see the walls around his heart begin to crumble. He was touched by my words, my tears, and my kneeling before him.
He rose from his seat, his eyes never leaving mine, and gently lifted me. He held me close, our faces inches apart, our hearts beating as one. We stared into each other’s eyes, our feelings growing stronger with every passing moment. He began to speak, his voice filled with emotion, telling me how deeply and madly he was in love with me. But before he could finish, I leaned in and kissed him.
Our lips met with a passion and intensity that left us both breathless. We kissed as our lives depended on it, our love overflowing like a dam that had burst. And just as we were lost in our kiss, his friends walked into the studio, their faces filled with surprise and speechless.
So as I was saying, our intimate moment was interrupted by the arrival of Jidenna’s friends, who burst into the studio with surprised expressions. “Whoa, take it easy, guys!” one of them exclaimed, laughing. “We didn’t mean to intrude, but we didn’t know you two were, uh, reunited!”
We chuckled, our embarrassment forgotten in the face of our joy. Jidenna’s friends approached us, their faces filled with remorse. “Jidenna, man, we’re so sorry for what we did,” one of them said, his voice filled with regret. “We were blind and stupid, and we didn’t realize how much we hurt you. Please, forgive us and let us start working with you again.”
Jidenna’s expression softened, his eyes filled with warmth. He looked at me, and I nodded in encouragement. “Give them another chance,” I whispered. And with a gentle smile, Jidenna nodded. “Alright, guys. I forgive you. Let’s start fresh.”
The studio erupted in cheers and hugs as Jidenna’s friends rushed to celebrate our reunion. They pulled out a bottle of wine and glasses, and we raised our drinks in a toast to new beginnings. As we sipped our wine, our laughter and chatter filled the studio, the tension and hurt of the past forgotten in the face of our renewed love and friendship. We clinked our glasses together, our eyes shining with happiness, and took a sip, savouring the sweet taste of forgiveness and redemption.
As the night wore on and the celebration came to an end, I found myself unable to shake off the thoughts of Jidenna. My mind was consumed by the memories of our reunion, our kisses, and our laughter. I couldn’t sleep, my body tingling with excitement and my heart racing with anticipation. I tossed and turned in bed, my thoughts a jumbled mess of emotions and desires.
Little did I know, Jidenna was experiencing the same restless night, his mind filled with thoughts of me. He couldn’t stop thinking about our reunion, our love, and our future together. The distance between us felt unbearable, and he longed to hold me in his arms once again.
As I lay in bed, my desire for him became too much to bear. I reached for my phone and dialled his number, my heart skipping a beat as he answered on the first ring. “Hi, charming,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine.
We talked for hours, our conversation flowing effortlessly as we shared our thoughts, dreams, and desires. I couldn’t control my body’s response, my senses heightened as I moved restlessly on my bed. The connection between us was palpable, even over the phone.
Finally, we ended the call, but only for a moment. Jidenna called back, his voice filled with emotion. “I love you so much, baby,” he whispered, his words sending waves of passion through me.
I felt myself melting, my heart overflowing with love for him. I couldn’t hold back my desire any longer. “Can I come over this night?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
There was a pause, and then he spoke, his voice filled with longing. “Yes, baby. Please come over. I need to hold you in my arms.”
I didn’t need further encouragement. I jumped out of bed, my heart racing with excitement. I drove to his house, my body trembling with anticipation. As I arrived, he opened the door, his eyes filled with love and desire. We embraced, our bodies colliding in a passionate kiss. We held each other close, our love consuming us, as we surrendered to the night and our desires.
That night, we kissed and couldn’t control ourselves, we m*de l*ve that night.
As the days turned into weeks, our love continued to flourish, growing stronger with each passing moment. We were inseparable, our hearts beating as one. And two months later, we decided to tie the knot, surrounded by our friends and family.
But what we didn’t know was that our love had already created a new life. I was pregnant, and we were overjoyed at the thought of starting a family together. Our wedding day was filled with laughter, tears, and joy, as we exchanged our vows and promised to love each other for the rest of our lives.
As we settled into our new life together, we realized that love knows no bounds, not even age. This story is living proof that love can conquer all, no matter how old you are or what life has thrown your way.
To my dear readers, I offer these words of advice and hope: never give up on love. No matter how old you are, no matter how many times you’ve been hurt, love is always worth fighting for.
Don’t let society’s expectations or limitations hold you back. Love comes in many forms and can strike at any time, so keep your heart open and receptive.
Don’t look at people’s age when it comes to love; look at their heart, their soul, and their spirit. Everyone deserves a chance at love, regardless of their age or background. And most importantly, never lose hope. Love can surprise you when you least expect it, and it can bring joy and happiness into your life in ways you never thought possible.
As I look back on this story, I am filled with gratitude and love. I hope that my story tale has touched your heart and given you hope to love again.
Remember, love is the greatest gift we can give ourselves and others, so never stop believing in its power.
So, dear readers, I ask you: were you touched by this story? Did it give you hope to love again? Did it remind you that love knows no bounds, not even age? I hope so because that is the greatest gift I could ever ask for.
The End…
