-Shelley-

With the alarm blaring from my bedside table, I groggily roused from sleep at the break of dawn. Despite feeling weary from a recent trip to the mall, accompanied by various aches and pains, the temptation to return to slumber was strong. However, I knew that delaying my morning routine would result in missing the bus to work. After a brief moment of hesitation, I managed to shuffle out of bed and navigate my way to the bathroom. With a sense of urgency, I swiftly prepared for the day ahead. Following the quick preparation, I packed my lunch, donned my attire, and set off to the station to catch the bus to work.

Upon arriving at the workplace, I exchanged pleasantries with my co-workers, clocked in for my shift, and proceeded to the female changing room to change into my scrubs. Subsequently, I made my way to the consultation room to prepare myself for the task that lay ahead.

Upon entering the consulting room, I gathered all of the necessary items for the examination, including my cards, and patiently waited for the arrival of Dr. Blackson, the physician specialist.

At exactly 8:30 a.m., we started with the consultation. I called the first patient, followed by the next, and the next. At 12:45 p.m., Dr. Blackson called me by my name.

"Miss Dickson?"

"Yes, Doctor," I responded.

"Can you call this patient?" he said, as he handed me the card.

As I went out to call the patient with the card held up, I noticed the name on the card, which read Mr. Ben Adam. I was caught in my throat.

"It couldn't possibly be him, right?" I asked myself.

I stood at the entrance of the consulting room and called out his name, eagerly anticipating the sight of the person it belonged to. To my surprise, the man standing among the patients was the same person I had met at the mall. It seemed unbelievable to encounter the same person twice in a week.

I watched as he walked towards me. "You called?" he said.

"Yes, I did, Mr. Dickson. Sorry! I meant Mr. Adams." Amused by my words, he smiled. Stepping aside, I said, "Please do come in."

As he stepped into the room, I observed closely, captivated by the way the two gentlemen exchanged a warm and genuine greeting before easing into their chairs. The ambiance of the space shifted subtly, thick with anticipation, as Dr. Blackson commenced the consultation. With a steady voice, he encouraged Mr. Adams to share the reason behind his visit. My attention, however, kept gravitating back to Mr. Adams—his presence remarkably poised, radiating a charming charisma that was impossible to resist. Every flicker of his expression and shift of his posture drew me in, making it almost impossible to divert my gaze from his undeniably magnetic allure.

Yet, as the conversation unfolded, a strange unease washed over me. Each passing minute felt like being trapped in an elevator, the walls closing in tighter. I couldn't shake the feeling that something about this situation was unsettling, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. What was it about him that left me feeling so off balance?

After the consultation was over, I handed Mr Adam his hospital card. As our hands brushed, there was a brief, electrifying moment of connection. I could sense that he felt it too - the immediate bond that seemed to exist between two kindred spirits. I just hope that Dr. Blackson didn't pick up on the subtle interaction between us. I wouldn't want to find myself having to justify or explain it.

As my shift came to an end, I carefully secured the equipment, changed into my regular clothes, and gathered my belongings. Exiting the building, I savoured the feeling of freedom after a long day of work.

With my bag strapped to my shoulder while I made my way down the stairs. Suddenly, a voice startled me from behind. "I'm glad you chose to use this path," he said. I turned around to see Mr. Adams, standing there. "Are you following me, Mr. Adams?" I asked with a hint of suspicion. Mr. Adams seemed taken aback and assured me that he had no intention of stalking me. He explained that he was simply waiting to speak with me and that his presence in the building was part of his routine checkup whenever he visited.

As I gazed at him, a wave of remorse washed over me for falsely accusing him. I offered my sincere apologies, but he declined, instead insisting that he would only forgive me if I allowed him to accompany me to the station. Initially, I declined, explaining that the station was within walking distance. However, he persisted, offering to walk alongside me. Feeling weary from a long day at work and not wanting to prolong the disagreement, I graciously accepted his offer. I also saw it as an opportunity to mend the rift caused by my earlier accusation.

While we strolled together towards the station, I couldn't shake off the curiosity to learn more about him. I mustered the courage to ask about his occupation, wanting to understand him better. To my surprise, he seemed taken aback by the question but eventually replied, "I am a lawyer," with a steadfast gaze fixed on me, evidently curious about my response. Not wanting to let him down, I continued, "What field of law do you specialize in, Mr. Adam?"

"Corporate law," he states.

"What do they do, if I may ask?"

He looks at me and says, "That, I can explain. In my role, I offer legal support to large companies and organizations. This involves a range of responsibilities such as negotiating agreements, drafting contracts, supervising corporate mergers and acquisitions, and facilitating complex deals."

"Impressive," I said. "You must love your job."

Giving a side smile he responded, "What is there not to love?"

A little put off by that statement, I said sarcastically, "Well, it is a lot of work, but then again, what do I know? I am not a lawyer."

Sensing my irritation, he came to an abrupt halt; he turned towards me and remarked, "Yes, I have a fondness for my job, but there are times when it can be quite the opposite. And you?"

With a thoughtful expression, I contemplated his inquiry. "Perhaps, or perhaps not, I am still in the process of deciding," I replied. His eyebrow arched as he leaned in closer, so close that I found it difficult to catch my breath. Peering down at me, he inquired, "Are you suggesting that you are still determining whether you harbour affection or disdain for your job?"

"Indeed," I stated. He appeared surprised.

"People normally know this," he said. I replied, "Well, I don't," while staring at him. "Just like you, my job has its prospects. So, excuse me if I am still deciding." We continued to stare at each other until we were interrupted by the mate shouting out the vehicle's destination. "Looks like we have to part ways here."

As I was about to step into the vehicle, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see him standing there. "Can I have your number? You know, so we can continue our conversation," he asked. Without hesitation, I replied, "No, you cannot." as I boarded the vehicle.

"'Why not?' I really want to talk to you again, since I don't know where you live or have your number. I wouldn't be able to communicate with you. Come on... be reasonable," he says, as the vehicle roars to life. I shouted through the window, "At least you know where I work," leaving him standing alone, staring at the vehicle as it drove away.

As I arrived home, I stepped through the door and immediately kicked off my shoes, feeling the relief of being in my own space. I changed into my comfortable home attire, a worn-out t-shirt and sweatpants, and made my way to the kitchen to start preparing supper. As I stood there, I mulled over what to cook. Should I go for the beloved Jollof or perhaps the hearty waakye?

The thought of just buying food from the vendors across the street crossed my mind, but I hesitated. I've always been particular about the quality of my food, and buying from just any seller didn't sit right with me. So, I decided to cook. As much as I craved waakye, I knew it would take a significant amount of time to prepare, so I settled on making Jollof for the evening. There will be other days for waakye; tonight, it's all about the comforting flavours of Jollof.

While in the kitchen, I reached for the recipe book to gather my ingredients. Once everything was ready, I started by preheating the pan until it was hot. Then, I began making a rich tomato sauce for the jollof. After the sauce was simmering and aromatic, I added in the rinsed rice, colourful vegetables, and some macaroni, giving it all a good stir. Next, I added a few cups of water to help everything cook perfectly. I covered the pan with kitchen foil and let the dish steam, and cooked for around 20 minutes, making sure to check and stir it every so often until the rice was tender and full of flavour.

When the timer finally chimed, I turned off the heat and dished up some of the delicious jollof, serving it alongside a perfectly boiled egg and a dollop of shito. With everything all set, it was time to dig in and savour the amazing flavours. "So tasty," I thought to myself as I enjoyed each mouthwatering bite.

***

It has been an agonizingly long week since I last saw Adam. I am not keeping count of the days, but his presence continues to linger in my mind. Two weeks have passed, and still, there is no sign of him. Logically, I should be relieved, but I can't help but long for his presence with each passing moment.

I am fully aware that I do not need this right now - another hopeful relationship that may end in disappointment. And who's to say that he even desires a relationship with me? He could be seeking nothing more than a fleeting encounter, like many others before him. It's all so predictable. Enough of these thoughts, I need to focus on getting back to work.

As I went about my usual tasks, I found myself immersed in the daily routine of assisting Dr. Blackson in the consulting room, tending to sick patients, and ensuring that everyone received the care they needed.

Dr. Blackson's dedication to his work was truly inspiring. He approached each patient with genuine concern, taking the time to educate them about their conditions and patiently answering their questions. It was evident that he truly cared about the well-being of his patients.

On particularly busy days, the outpatient department would be inundated with patients, far beyond the capacity we had initially anticipated. Despite the overwhelming number of individuals seeking care, we never turned anyone away and made it our mission to attend to each and every person in need.

Today of all days, as I prepared to conclude my shift and gather my belongings, I was interrupted by Dr. Blackson calling my name. His unexpected request for my phone number caught me off guard, and I could only respond with a puzzled "Excuse me!"

As he sat behind his desk, he looked at me and confidently asserted, "You're my nurse, right? Yet, I still don't have your number. If I can't make it to the clinic, I need to reach out to you. That's why I need your number." There was an odd intensity in his gaze that gave me pause, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to his request. So, I pressed further, "Is that the only reason you need it, sir?"

Taken aback, he furrowed his brow and retorted, "What do you mean, Miss Dickson? What other reason is there? Must I remind you that I am a married man and I do love my wife very much?" His defensive reaction caught me off guard, and I realized that he had completely misunderstood my concern.

I hurried to clarify, "Sir, you've misunderstood. I didn't mean it that way. You know what, never mind! Here's my number," I said as I scribbled it on a piece of paper and dropped it off on his desk. "Have a great weekend, sir," I added and rushed out of the room before he could say another word. As I left, I couldn't help but overhear him mutter something under his breath, but I couldn't catch the words.

_

Sorry, guys, this chapter appears to be longer than I anticipated. I tried making it short but was unsuccessful. I hope you find this chapter enjoyable to read. Just remember to leave a comment or vote if you like it.