I’m Natasha, the CEO of Sunnyville Enterprises, a successful businesswoman with a warm and jovial personality. At 38, I’ve achieved professional success, but my personal life is a different story. My chubby physique and advancing age have led to rejection and disappointment in my quest for love and marriage. As I approach 40, the pressure to settle down and start a family weighs heavily on my mind.
One afternoon, during my lunch break, I stepped out to grab a bite at a nearby café. As I savored my meal, my former employee, Rachel, who I had fired for embezzling funds from my company, stormed in. Her eyes blazed with malice as she began to taunt me, her venomous words piercing my soul. “Look at you, Natasha, almost 40 and still single! You’re a failure in every aspect of your life!” she sneered. I remained silent, my smile masking the pain her cruel words inflicted.
Unbeknownst to me, a young artist, Jidenna, 27, had been observing the scene unfold. He was struck by my resilience and grace in the face of adversity. Inspired, he quickly sketched me on paper, capturing the essence of my painful smile. As Rachel departed, Jidenna discreetly handed the drawing to a waitress, instructing her to deliver it to me.
Moments later, the waitress approached me, holding out the sketch. “Someone wanted you to have this,” she said with a smile. I unfolded the paper, and my eyes widened as I took in the stunning likeness of myself. Beneath the drawing, Jidenna had penned, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Don’t let anyone steal your happiness from you.” Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I scanned the café, hoping to catch a glimpse of my mysterious benefactor. Alas, he had vanished, leaving behind only his poignant artwork and a renewed sense of hope within me.
As I gazed at the drawing, a sense of wonder washed over me. The simple yet powerful gesture had disarmed me, reminding me that kindness still existed in a world that often seemed too cruel. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, as if Jidenna’s words had somehow absolved me of the shame and self-doubt that had been plaguing me.
With renewed energy, I finished my lunch and returned to the office, the drawing safely tucked away in my bag. The rest of the day flew by in a blur, my focus sharpened by the unexpected encounter. I tackled challenges with a fresh perspective, my confidence boosted by the knowledge that someone out there believed in me.
As the sun set over the city, I found myself pondering the mystery of Jidenna’s identity. Who was this young artist who had seen beyond my façade and touched my heart? I longed to thank him, to tell him how his gesture had impacted me. But he had vanished without a trace, leaving me with only the drawing and my imagination.
Days turned into weeks, and the memory of Jidenna’s kindness lingered, a reminder of the power of human connection. I began to approach my life with a renewed sense of purpose, my relationships with others deepening as I learned to appreciate the beauty in small gestures. And though I never forgot the young artist who had touched my heart, I realized that his true gift lay not in the drawing itself but in the courage he had inspired within me.
As I wandered through the supermarket aisles, lost in thought, my gaze scanning the shelves for the perfect ingredients, I was unaware of the surprise that awaited me. Jidenna, the mysterious artist, had also entered the store, his eyes locking onto mine with a spark of recognition. Before I could even register his presence, he had swiftly sketched me once more, capturing the essence of my being with his deft strokes.
This time, he added a romantic message, his words dripping with sincerity: “Hi, charming Natasha, fate has brought us together again. Your smile has brightened my days, and your strength has inspired me. I long to know the beauty behind your eyes, to explore the depths of your heart. May our paths continue to cross, may our connection grow stronger.”
As I reached for a jar of sauce, a gentle tap on my shoulder broke my concentration. A store employee, holding out the drawing, smiled kindly. “A guy asked me to give this to you, ma’am.” My heart skipped a beat as I unfolded the paper, my eyes drinking in the tender words and the stunning likeness of myself.
My soul soared with excitement, my mind racing with the possibility of finally meeting this enigmatic stranger. I turned to the employee, my voice barely containing my eagerness. “Where is he? The guy who gave you this?” She gestured towards the entrance, “He just stepped outside, ma’am.” I hastily abandoned my shopping cart, my feet carrying me swiftly towards the exit, my heart pounding with anticipation.
But as I burst through the doors, scanning the crowded parking lot, my eyes searched in vain for a glimpse of Jidenna’s familiar smile. He had vanished once more, leaving behind only the drawing, his words, and the promise of a connection that seemed destined to flourish. My heart still raced, my spirit lifted by the knowledge that our paths would cross again, that our story was far from over.
Few Days Later…
As I sat at my desk, immersed in the routine of another busy day at the office, the sudden arrival of a delivery guy broke the monotony. He handed me a sleek, black frame, adorned with a beautiful drawing that took my breath away. My eyes widened as I opened it, revealing the intricate artwork that seemed to pulse with life.
My heart skipped a beat as I read the words that accompanied the drawing, penned in a handwriting that was both familiar and endearing. “I wish I were a little bit closer to your age,” Jidenna’s message began, “I would love to give you the love you need. I’m only 27.” My smile grew wider as I gazed at the drawing, my eyes drinking in the beauty of the woman he had captured on paper.
For a moment, I forgot about the age gap, the doubts, and the fears that had held me back. All that mattered was the sincerity in his words, the longing in his eyes, and the way he made me feel seen and appreciated. I felt like a work of art, cherished and admired, my beauty finally recognized by someone who truly mattered.
As I turned to the delivery guy, my eyes sparkling with excitement, I asked the question that had become a constant refrain in my mind: “Who is this guy? How did he know where to find me?” But the delivery guy simply shrugged, his expression apologetic. “He didn’t say, ma’am. He just asked me to deliver this to your office.”
My mind raced with possibilities as I gazed at the drawing, my thoughts whirling with the implications of Jidenna’s words. How did he know my office address? Had he been following me, learning more about me, watching me from afar? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but it wasn’t fear that I felt – it was anticipation.
I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if I were to let my guard down, to allow Jidenna to get closer, to see if our connection was strong enough to bridge the gap between our ages.
My heart raced at the prospect, my soul urging me to take a chance, to see where this journey would lead. And as I sat there, surrounded by the familiar comforts of my office, I knew that I couldn’t ignore the call of my heart, the whisper of a love that seemed to be waiting just beyond the horizon.
Four days had passed, and my mind was still reeling from the impact of Jidenna’s drawings and words. I found myself lost in thought, reliving the moments when I first saw his artwork, his messages, and the way he made me feel. My days became a blur of nostalgia, my heart skipping beats as I recalled the beauty of his creations.
My colleagues and friends began to notice the change in me, the way I would suddenly smile for no apparent reason, my eyes sparkling with a joy that couldn’t be contained. They would ask, curious about the source of my happiness, but I would simply smile and shrug, unable to share the secret of Jidenna’s drawings and the way they made me feel.
As the days went by, my longing to meet Jidenna grew stronger. I found myself wondering if he would ever reach out again, if our paths would cross in a more meaningful way. And so, I decided to take a chance, to visit the cafe where our story first began, hoping against hope that he might be there, waiting for me.
I sat at the same table, sipping my coffee, my eyes scanning the room. But as the hours ticked by, my excitement gave way to disappointment. There was no sign of Jidenna, no new drawings, no messages. I left the cafe that day with a heavy heart, my hopes dashed against the rocks of reality.
As I walked home, the city streets seemed dull and gray, the world around me lacking the vibrancy that Jidenna’s artwork had brought to my life. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been foolish to hope, to dream that our connection could be more than just a fleeting moment of beauty. But even in disappointment, my heart refused to let go of the memories, the drawings, and the words that had captured my soul.
The next morning, as I settled into my office routine, a familiar sight caught my attention – a delivery guy came in with a mysterious package that seemed to hold secrets and promises. My heart skipped a beat as I accepted the box, my mind racing with possibilities, my thoughts whirling with the potential implications of this unexpected delivery.
With trembling hands, I opened the box, revealing a stunning flower that seemed to symbolize hope and renewal, its delicate petals a testament to the beauty of life. And then, my eyes landed on a note, its words penned in a handwriting that had become all too familiar, yet still managed to send shivers down my spine.
“Do you miss me?” Jidenna’s message read, his words piercing my soul like a gentle breeze on a summer day, the simplicity of the question belied by the depth of emotion it evoked. Before I could even process my response, I found myself exclaiming, “Yes, I do!” – the words tumbling out of my lips like a confession, a surrender to the emotions that had been building inside me.
Quickly regaining my composure, I continued reading, my eyes devouring every word, every phrase, every sentence that Jidenna had written. In the next paragraph, he revealed a location near my office, instructing me to drop off the “pepper” (a clever code, I presumed) if I indeed missed him. My heart raced with excitement as I grasped the implication – he wanted to meet me, to reconnect in a way that went beyond mere messages and drawings.
The location he specified was a small, quaint shop nearby, its unassuming exterior belied by the thrill that awaited me within. I entered the shop, my eyes scanning the shelves until I spotted the designated spot, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. With a sense of trepidation and anticipation, I deposited the “pepper” (a small, elegant box, it turned out) and made my way back to the office, my mind reeling with the possibilities that lay ahead.
What would happen next? Only time would tell, but one thing was certain – my life was about to change in ways I never thought possible. The encounter, the drawing, the messages – all had been leading up to this moment, this chance to connect with someone who saw me, truly saw me, in a way that few others ever had. And as I returned to my office, my heart still racing with excitement, I knew that I was ready, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead, ready to see where this journey would take me.
Two days later, my heart was still racing from the excitement of our last encounter when another delivery guy appeared at my office, a white pepper in hand. I opened it with trembling fingers, my eyes widening as I read the message inside. Jidenna was asking me out on a date! My soul soared as I read the address and his instructions – if I could make it that night, I should leave the pepper in the same spot as before, but if I couldn’t, I should hold onto it, a symbol of our connection.
I was over the moon with excitement, my happiness bubbling over like a fountain. I quickly rushed out to deposit the pepper, my heart skipping beats in anticipation of our evening together. And then, at 7 pm, I made my way to the address he had given me, my nerves tingling with expectation.
As I sat down at a table, I didn’t notice him at first, my eyes scanning the room for a glimpse of a man’s smile. But then, suddenly, he was there, standing in front of me, his eyes locking onto mine with a intensity that left me breathless. I felt like I was drowning in their depths, my soul surrendering to the connection we shared.
He sat down across from me, our eyes never leaving each other’s, the air between us thick with tension. “Hi,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine. “Fine evening.” I was lost, my words caught in my throat as I gazed at him, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re the artist,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Jidenna.” His name felt like a prayer on my lips, a benediction that sealed our fate together.
The silence that followed was palpable, our eyes speaking a language that transcended words. We sat there, suspended in time, our souls entwined in a dance that only we could see. And then, without thinking, I reached out, my hand brushing against his, the touch sending sparks through my entire being.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he whispered, his eyes burning with intensity. “I’ve been waiting for you.” My heart melted at his words, my soul soaring on the wings of our connection.
We sat there, hands touching, eyes locked, our hearts beating as one, the world around us fading into insignificance.
After a night filled with laughter, conversation, and a deepening connection, we reluctantly parted ways, each of us returning to our own homes. But as I lay in bed, my mind refused to let go of the memories we had created together. I couldn’t stop smiling to myself, reliving the moments we had shared, my heart still soaring from the thrill of our encounter.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone rang, piercing the silence of the night. I knew it was him, and my heart skipped a beat as I answered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Hello?”
“Hey, just wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said, his voice low and gentle, filled with a concern that melted my heart. I felt cared for, loved, and appreciated in a way I never had before.
“Yes, I’m home,” I replied, my voice filled with a warmth that mirrored his own. We talked and laughed some more, the conversation flowing effortlessly, until finally, we both paused, reluctant to end the call.
But neither of us could hang up, hoping to hear something more, something that would seal our connection forever. And then, he asked, his voice hesitant, “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” I replied, my heart pounding in anticipation.
“Waiting for what?” he asked, his tone playful.
“I’m waiting to hear that thing you want to say,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
We both laughed, the tension building, until finally, he spoke the words that would change everything. “I don’t know if it’s the right time to say or if it’s too early, but I want to tell you that I love you.”
My heart soared, my smile illuminating the darkness of my room. “No, it doesn’t matter,” I replied, my voice filled with emotion. “I love you too.”
We laughed again, the joy and happiness we shared in that moment impossible to contain. And with that, we ended the call, our hearts full, our souls connected in a way that only love can achieve.
The next day, Jidenna found himself utterly unable to focus on his work, his mind consumed by thoughts of me. His pencils and sketchbook became his solace, as he furiously drew image after image of my smiling face, my laughing eyes, my radiant beauty. His colleagues noticed the change in him, one of his closest friends teasing him good-naturedly as he stood by his side. “Lover boy, eh? Still falling hard, I see!”
Jidenna’s response was a sheepish grin, his eyes never leaving his paper as he continued to draw. “I’m too old for him,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, yet his heart refused to listen. His friend chuckled knowingly, patting him on the back. “She’ll be serving you breakfast in bed soon enough, mark my words!”
Meanwhile, I was faring no better at my own office, my usual composure replaced by a goofy grin that seemed to plaster itself on my face without warning.
My coworkers exchanged curious glances, wondering what had brought about this sudden change in their normally reserved boss. Even I couldn’t explain it, my mind whirling with thoughts of Jidenna’s charming smile, his bright eyes, his gentle touch.
As the afternoon sun began to wane, I found myself reaching for my phone, my fingers dialing Jidenna’s number without conscious thought. He answered on the first ring, his voice warm and reassuring. “Hey, beautiful. How’s your day going?”
We talked for hours, our conversations flowing effortlessly, our laughter intertwining like the threads of a tapestry. And when we finally hung up, I felt a sense of peace settle over me, knowing that our connection was real, that our love was growing with each passing moment.
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, our love continued to flourish, but the challenges of a relationship began to manifest. Jidenna’s friends, who had initially been supportive of our connection, started to worry about his increasingly singular focus on me. “Dude, you need to snap out of it,” they’d say, as he spent hours sketching me, thinking about me, and talking to me. “You’re neglecting your work, your hobbies, your life!”
Jidenna would brush off their concerns, but deep down, he knew they were right. His art was suffering, his deadlines were being pushed back, and his usually vibrant personality was becoming dull and one-dimensional. I, too, was experiencing my own set of problems. My workers were starting to feel neglected, my projects were piling up, and my investors were growing restless.
We tried to make time for each other, but our schedules were increasingly conflicting. Jidenna would plan a surprise visit to my office, only to find me in a meeting or on a deadline. I would promise to attend his art exhibitions, but end up stuck in traffic or dealing with an emergency. The distance between us began to feel like an insurmountable obstacle, our conversations becoming strained and superficial.
We started to wonder if our love was strong enough to overcome the practicalities of life. Jidenna felt like he was losing himself in me, like he was disappearing into the vortex of our relationship. I felt like I was suffocating under the pressure of my responsibilities, like I was drowning in a sea of expectations. We both felt like we were losing our sense of identity, our individuality, our very selves.
And yet, despite the struggles, despite the doubts, despite the fears, our love remained a constant, a beacon of hope in the darkness.
We knew that we needed to find a way to make it work, to reconcile our love with our lives, to merge our passions with our responsibilities.
Two days later…
I received an invitation from Jidenna to meet him at his studio that afternoon. I arrived, expecting to see him working on a new art piece or perhaps a surprise for me. But what I saw made my heart shatter into a million pieces.
Jidenna was holding another woman, kissing her with passion and intensity. I felt like I had been punched in the gut, my breath knocked out of me. I called out to him, my voice shaking with tears, but he just laughed, a sound that pierced my soul like a dagger.
His friends laughing like they knew I was coming.
I couldn’t bear the sight any longer. I turned and ran, tears streaming down my face like a river. I couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t catch my breath. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair, like the world had come crashing down around me.
The next day, Jidenna’s calls flooded my phone, each ring a reminder of the pain and heartache he had caused. He left message after message, his voice laced with concern and confusion. “Hey, what’s going on? Why aren’t you answering my calls? Is everything okay?”
But I remained silent, my heart still reeling from the shock of what I had seen. I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to him, of hearing his voice, of reliving the betrayal. So I let the calls go to voicemail, let the messages pile up, let the silence speak for itself.
But Jidenna refused to give up. He kept calling, kept texting, kept trying to reach me, to understand what had gone wrong. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice cracking with worry. “Did I hurt you somehow? Please, just talk to me, let me know what’s going on.”
His words were laced with desperation, with a sense of urgency that only made me more determined to stay silent. I didn’t want to hear his excuses, his justifications, his empty promises. I didn’t want to relive the pain, the heartache, the betrayal. So I remained silent, my heart locked away, my emotions hidden behind a mask of stone.
As Jidenna continued to try to reach me, his friends couldn’t help but mock him. “Haha, looks like you’re getting served breakfast, buddy!” they teased, their laughter echoing in his ears. “We told you, we told you, she’s got your number!”
Jidenna tried to ignore them, but their jokes and snickers only made him more frustrated. “Guys, come on, I’m serious. Something’s wrong, and I need to talk to her.”
But his friends just wouldn’t let up. “Oh, sure, sure, you’re really concerned about her. That’s why you’re calling her nonstop, right?” they sneered, their sarcasm thick and heavy.
Jidenna’s face grew hot with embarrassment and anger. He knew his friends were just trying to get a rise out of him, but their words stung nonetheless. Finally, he’d had enough. “You know what? Forget it. I’m out of here,” he said, storming out of the room, leaving his friends’ mocking laughter behind.
He went home, feeling defeated and humiliated. Why was I ignoring him? What had he done wrong? The questions swirled in his head like a vortex, driving him crazy with worry and uncertainty.
LOVE KNOWS NO AGE
(Part 5)
The next morning, Jidenna appeared at my office, determined to uncover the reason behind my silence. As he approached my desk, my expression transformed, my eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “What do you want, Jidenna?” I asked curtly, my voice devoid of warmth.
“Hey, baby,” he said, his tone soft and endearing, but I wasn’t having it.
“What are you doing here, Jidenna?” I pressed, my words firm and unyielding.
“I came to find out what’s wrong,” he replied, his eyes searching mine for a glimmer of understanding. “What did I do to upset you?”
I laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “You really don’t remember, do you?” I sneered. “You don’t recall what I saw at your studio yesterday?”
Jidenna’s face went blank, confusion etched on his features. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice laced with innocence.
My anger boiled over. “Don’t play dumb, Jidenna!” I snapped. “I saw you kissing that woman, that…that…thing! You were all over her, and you have the nerve to come here and act like nothing’s wrong?”
Jidenna’s eyes widened in shock, his face pale. “No, no, no,” he protested, his voice rising. “That’s not what happened, I swear. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But I wasn’t listening. “Get out,” I spat, my voice venomous. “Get out of my office, and never come back. You’re dead to me, Jidenna.”
He tried to plead, to explain, but I wouldn’t hear it. I called security, and they escorted him out, his protests echoing down the hallway as he was forcibly removed from my presence. And with that, our relationship was over, reduced to ashes and dust.
As the security guard firmly ushered him out of the office building, Jidenna’s face burned with shame and embarrassment. He trudged back to his studio, his feet heavy with the weight of his own confusion. How could I accuse him of such a thing? He couldn’t recall any incident that would warrant such anger and hurt.
Upon arriving at the studio, he relayed the entire encounter to his friends, hoping they could offer some insight or support. But instead, they exchanged knowing glances and burst out laughing. “Dude, you really don’t remember, do you?” one of them teased, chuckling.
Jidenna’s frustration mounted as his friends continued to mock him. “Guys, come on, this isn’t funny. I’m serious, I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
But their laughter only grew louder, their jokes more biting. “Looks like someone’s got a case of selective amnesia!” another friend quipped, guffawing.
Jidenna’s face reddened as he tried to defend himself, but their words stung too deeply. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of embarrassment and shame. His friends’ relentless teasing finally drove him to leave the studio, unable to bear their mocking gaze any longer.
As he wandered the streets, his mind reeled with questions. What had he done? Why couldn’t he remember? The uncertainty gnawed at him like a festering wound. His creative spark, usually so vibrant and alive, was now extinguished, leaving him feeling lost and useless. He couldn’t draw, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape the crushing weight of his own confusion.
Days later…
Jidenna had been trying to make amends, showing up at my doorstep multiple times, hoping to apologize and explain himself. But I was still hurting from our last encounter and wasn’t ready to forgive. I chased him away each time, my resolve firm.
The last time he came, I was particularly fed up. I opened the door, and he stood there, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. But I was unmoved. I took a bucket of water and poured it over him, a symbol of my frustration and anger. “Leave me alone, Jidenna!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the neighborhood. “Don’t come near me again!”
He looked crestfallen, his clothes soaked and his dignity bruised. But I didn’t care. I slammed the door shut, leaving him standing there, a stark reminder of the consequences of his actions. Little did I know, that would be the last time I saw him.
As the days turned into a week, Jidenna’s absence from work became a growing concern. His friends, who had once mocked him, now seemed genuinely worried. They even ventured to my office, seeking any information about his whereabouts. “We haven’t seen him at home, and he hasn’t shown up at work for days,” one of them explained, their faces etched with concern.
I listened, my own worries simmering just below the surface. Despite our tumultuous encounter, I had missed Jidenna dearly. His absence had left a gaping hole in my life, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay. But I couldn’t reveal my true feelings to his friends, so I simply shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s been a while since I last saw him,” I said, my voice even.
His friends exchanged uneasy glances, their silence speaking volumes. They knew something was amiss, but they didn’t press me for details. Instead, they left my office, their faces clouded with worry.
Few days ago, one of my ex boyfriend I ran into has been been asking me to date him again. As I was grappling with my concerns about Jidenna, he came in just as jidenna friends left, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I know this may not be the right time,” he began, “but I can’t help how I feel. I love you, and I want to be with you. Will you consider dating me again?”
I was taken aback, my mind reeling with the sudden turn of events. Jidenna’s disappearance, my lingering feelings for him, and now this new proposal – it was all too much to process. I needed time to think, to sort out my emotions, but this my ex boyfriend seemed eager to sweep me off my feet. I hesitated, don’t know what to say.
What do you think she she should do?
To be continued…
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