Fatima couldn’t stop thinking about her secret admirer. The mystery, the attention, the gifts—it was intoxicating. She had always been the type to enjoy the chase, the thrill of being wanted. But this? This was next-level obsession.
“Who do you think it is?” she asked her friends as they sat around sipping iced lattes.
“I don’t know, but girl, whoever it is, he’s loaded,” her friend Tayo said, scrolling through Fatima’s wish list. “That bag was, what? Five hundred dollars?”
“Six-fifty,” Fatima corrected, grinning. “And that’s why I have to find him. A man who spoils you like this? That’s the dream.”
Her other friend, Sade, raised an eyebrow. “But what if he’s not your type? What if he’s…ugly?”
Fatima scoffed. “If he can afford my wishlist, he can afford a glow-up.” They all laughed, but beneath it, Fatima was serious. If this man adored her enough to buy her all these things, she could work with that.
Meanwhile, Tunji was on the verge of making the biggest financial mistake of his life. He had spent nearly all his savings on Fatima’s first gift, and now he was desperate to send the next one. A sleek, imported weave she had posted about—three hundred dollars. He didn’t have it, but he had something else: his car.
“That’s insane,” Kunle, his best friend, said when Tunji mentioned selling it. “You’re telling me you want to sell your car—your only means of transport—to buy hair for a woman who doesn’t even know you exist?”
“She does know me,” Tunji argued. “She just doesn’t know I’m her secret admirer yet.”
Kunle stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Tunji, listen to me. Fatima is not wife material. She’s a heartbreak girl.”
“What does that even mean?” Tunji snapped, frustrated.
Kunle sighed, rubbing his temples. “It means she dates guys, takes what she wants, and then leaves them dry. She’s done it before, man. And she will do it again.”
“You’re just jealous.” Tunji’s voice was thick with emotion. “You don’t want me to be happy. I’ve finally found love, and you can’t stand it.”
Kunle exhaled sharply, fighting the urge to shake some sense into his friend. “Love? Love?! You think buying her things is love? She loves the gifts, not you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. And deep down, so do you.”
Tunji clenched his fists, his heart pounding. “Do you know anyone who can buy my car? For cheap?”
Kunle lost it. With a sharp motion, he slapped Tunji across the face. Hard.
“Wake up!” Kunle yelled. “You are ruining yourself over a woman who wouldn’t even spare you a second glance if she knew you were the one behind the gifts.”
Tunji’s face burned—not just from the slap but from the rage boiling inside him. “You’ll regret this,” he said, voice shaking. “When Fatima and I are together, when she loves me the way I love her, you’ll regret every word.”
Kunle shook his head in defeat. “I already regret watching you do this to yourself.”
Tunji stormed out. He needed money, and he needed it fast. If he couldn’t sell his car, there had to be another way.
He sat in his room that night, scrolling through loan apps, payday advances, even considering selling his phone. Anything to get that three hundred dollars.
Because once he bought the next gift, Fatima would have no choice but to fall in love with him.
Wouldn’t she?
Part 3 next week.
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