“I think caution is not a weakness,” she said calmly. “If we are to build something that lasts, it should not be rushed.”
Okafor looked at her.
For the first time, he felt grateful to her.
Later that night, standing alone before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his room, Okafor stared down at the city. From that height, everything looked small and simple. But his life was not simple.
A soft knock came.
His mother entered.
“You embarrassed your father tonight.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“But you did.”
She walked closer. “You must understand, Okafor. This life is bigger than you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He turned to her. “Because it feels like my life isn’t mine at all.”
She sighed. “It is yours. But it comes with responsibilities.”
“What if I don’t want them?”
For a moment, her composure slipped. Then it returned.
“Wanting has nothing to do with it.”
After she left, Okafor remained by the window for a long time.
He had wealth, power, influence, and a future everyone envied.
Yet something was missing.
Something he could not name.
Something money could not buy.
The next day, after another suffocating board meeting, Okafor did something he had not done in years.
He drove himself.
No driver. No security. No planned route.
He simply drove through the city until the glass towers faded into smaller shops and warm streetlights. The air changed. People laughed openly here. Vendors called out to customers. Music played somewhere in the distance.
It felt alive.
He had no plan to stop anywhere, but then he saw a small restaurant tucked between a pharmacy and a fabric shop. It was modest, almost hidden, with warm light spilling through the windows.
Something made him park.
