When I Found You

Chapter 5

Leaning lazily on the hood of his car, scrolling through his phone with one hand and sipping from a bottle of malt with the other, Bello barely noticed the fading sun melt into the soft gold of the Abuja evening. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful—until he heard it:

"Bello Adam Muhammad!"

He flinched, startled by the rare use of his full name.

He looked up to see his father seated in the garden, shaded by their neem tree, flipping through a copy of Daily Trust and sipping freshly brewed mint tea. The man didn't even glance at him.

"Na'am, Daddy," Bello responded and started walking toward him.

His father motioned to the bench beside him. "Sit."

Bello obeyed, curiosity beginning to churn in his chest.

"Bello, listen to me carefully," his father began, his voice low, firm, yet fatherly. "Every father wishes to live long enough to see his son become a man. Alhamdulillah, you've given me that joy. You've succeeded in business, proven your loyalty to family, and you've become someone I speak proudly of among my peers."

Bello sat a little straighter, unsure of where this was headed.

"But," his father continued, closing the newspaper slowly and fixing his gaze on him, "once a man reaches that stage, what's left for his parents is a single prayer—that he builds a home of his own, finds someone to share life with, someone to raise good children with. Bello, when are you going to settle down?"

The question wasn't new.

But this time, it hit differently.

The air shifted. His father's eyes were heavy—not with pressure, but with longing. Bello felt suddenly ten years younger, like a boy caught sneaking sweets before iftar.

He swallowed. "I... I'll settle soon, Dad."

"Soon?" His father's brow lifted. "When, Bello? Give me something real."

"I don't know yet... but soon," Bello mumbled, his voice trailing, head bowed low like a student awaiting punishment.

His father shook his head, disappointment dancing on his face. "Six weeks."

Bello blinked. "What?"

"I'm giving you six weeks. If you find a suitable girl before I do, marry her. But if I find one first, you will marry her. No questions. No delay. Is that clear?"

Bello looked at him like the earth had shifted under his feet.

"Yes, Dad," he managed.

"Good. You may leave now."

He stood, heart thudding, and turned to walk away—only to spot Mami walking toward them with a tray of mint tea. She met his eyes and offered a soft smile—soothing, motherly. He returned the gesture weakly and stepped aside as she joined his father on the bench.

They began chatting like it was just another breezy evening. But inside Bello's chest, a storm was brewing.

He didn't go back into the main house. Instead, he walked straight to Al'amin's apartment. He knocked once. The door creaked open.

"Yaro," Al'amin said, raising a brow. "What's with the look?"

Bello walked in, slumped onto the couch, and let it all out—his father's speech, the ultimatum, the unexpected pressure.

Al'amin whistled. "Man, your dad is done feeding a bachelor."

"I'm toast."

"My advice? Start your search now. Don't let him win."