When the news reached Sasha, she put on a dramatic show—tears, prayers, worried pacing. She even took a photo of herself beside his empty hospital bed and posted it online with the caption:
God, please heal him.
faithstrong
lovehurts
But when no cameras were watching, she said nothing. No questions. No real grief. She visited him once, stayed for ten minutes, and left without even asking when he’d be discharged.
A few days later, she returned home to find a note resting on the marble counter in the hallway. It was handwritten in Daniel’s clean, simple script.
I need time to heal financially and emotionally. Don’t look for me.
No forwarding address. No phone call. Nothing else.
Sasha stared at the note for a moment, then slowly sat on the couch. After a long silence, she smiled to herself. Finally.
She folded the note neatly and dropped it into her handbag.
That evening, agents from the bank came to seize the house. The loan Daniel had supposedly taken had defaulted. The mansion, the cars, the staff—all gone in hours.
Sasha packed her things in silence.
By nightfall, she was dragging her box suitcase down the driveway in her heels, muttering under her breath.
“After everything, now look at me, moving back to that cramped house. Daniel, may suffering never leave you for doing this to me.”
She didn’t cry.
She was just glad to be free.
Weeks had passed since Daniel vanished from Sasha’s world. The news had moved on. The mansion was gone. The Obasi name no longer trended online.
Sasha had returned to her old apartment and resumed her social life with as much grace as she could fake. She told people Daniel had become too emotionally unstable.
“He needed space,” she’d say with a shrug. “I let him go.”
She was walking beside Janet one sunny afternoon when it happened. They were heading into a small supermarket in the heart of Surulere.
Sasha wore a light designer scarf and dark glasses. Janet had her phone in hand, scrolling through her latest Instagram engagement.
Then Sasha saw him.
A man sat in a rusty wheelchair just outside the supermarket entrance. His clothes were stained and torn. His face was unshaven. Dust covered his skin and hair. Most people walked past without a glance.
She didn’t recognize him at first.
But then he wheeled forward slowly. One hand reached into a plastic bag on his lap and pulled out a single plastic flower.
“Sasha,” his voice was soft, broken. “Please.”
She froze.
That voice. That face.
Her stomach twisted.
“Daniel?” she whispered.
Daniel looked up at her, eyes full of quiet pain. “I know I have nothing, but I still love you. Will you marry me?”
He stretched out the plastic flower with a trembling hand.
Sasha stepped back in shock, her lips curling in disgust. “What? What is this? What are you doing here?”
People nearby began to turn and stare.
“I thought you said you’d stand by me,” Daniel said, his voice shaking. “You promised.”
Janet, now fully aware of the scene, stepped between them and scoffed. “How dare this trash even approach us? This is disgusting.”
Daniel turned to Sasha again, still holding out the flower. “I just wanted to remind you. I loved you. I thought you would still see me.”
Sasha’s expression hardened. Anger took over her face.
She slapped the flower out of his hand.
Then she slapped him hard across the cheek.
“How dare you?” she yelled. “You’re not even standing on your own two feet, and you dare to talk to me? You dare to embarrass me like this?”
Daniel’s head hung low.
“You stink,” she added, stepping back. “Get away from me. I’ll have you arrested for harassment.”
People around began to murmur. Some laughed. Some recorded.
Daniel tried to speak, but Sasha wasn’t done.
“Whatever we had is over,” she snapped. “Do you hear me? Over. I canceled that wedding long ago, and I’ve moved on with a man who’s not stuck in a wheelchair begging on the street.”
Janet laughed beside her, arms crossed. “Honestly, Sasha, this is just sad. Look at him.”
Daniel sat in silence, the flower now on the ground.
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