She didn’t realize it yet, but that single promise, sealed under the quiet Anugu dusk, would shape the path of her heart and lead her into choices that would one day fill her with a regret deeper than she could ever imagine. The next morning broke with the sound of Anugu’s restless city life, hawkers calling out their goods, yellow Danfo buses honking in impatient bursts, and the faint clang of metal from a nearby street.

Evelyn, dressed in a flowing white jumpsuit and gold earrings that caught the early sunlight, stepped out of her compound’s black iron gate with the careless confidence of someone who knew the world admired her beauty. Her phone buzzed with messages from suitors, wealthy men who flaunted their latest luxury cars. But she barely glanced at the screen.

The thrill of attention had become routine. As she strolled toward her friend Kemmy’s boutique, her eyes caught an unfamiliar sight. A small, freshly painted signboard across the road that read, “Au Autoworks, Quality Repairs, affordable service.” Beneath it, a tall young man wiped his hands on a piece of rag, his skin glistening with the bronze sheen of morning sweat, his overalls clung loosely to his well-built frame, and a black cap shaded his forehead.

He straightened just as Evelyn’s heels clicked past the workshop. Agu noticed her immediately. For a brief second, the noise of the street faded. She looked like something the city itself had dreamt into existence. Graceful, elegant, with the kind of presence that made even passing motorists slow their cars.

Her perfume floated in the breeze, delicate and alluring. “Good morning,” Au said, his baritone voice cutting through the air like a quiet melody. Evelyn paused, caught off guard by the warm steadiness of his tone. Her eyes flicked toward him briefly, a mechanic, clearly. Grease stained his shirt, and a spanner peeked from his pocket.

She offered the faintest nod, more a gesture of politeness than greeting, and kept walking without a word. Agu smiled to himself. He had expected no more. “Ch,” his childhood friend and assistant at the workshop, nudged him with a knowing grin. “Guy, forget that one,” Shiki teased. “She’s the kind that doesn’t even breathe the same air as us.

” But Agoo’s eyes lingered on the road where she had disappeared, and his smile deepened with quiet determination. Love can melt even the hardest heart, he replied softly, as though making a promise to the morning breeze. Later that afternoon, as the sun blazed overhead and the smell of engine oil hung heavy, Evelyn returned from the boutique.

The heat shimmerred on the asphalt like invisible flames. She slowed her pace as she approached the workshop again, this time noticing the neat arrangement of tools, the careful way Au tightened bolts, and the soft rhythm of his movements. There was precision in his work, a kind of pride that stood apart from the chaos of the street.

Every turn of his spanner was deliberate, every motion smooth and sure, like a musician coaxing music from metal. For a fleeting moment, Evelyn forgot the heat pressing against her skin. She simply watched him work, struck by the quiet dignity that wrapped around him like an unseen cloak. Without looking up, Agu said, “Be careful, madam. The ground near that car is slick with oil.

I’d hate for those fine heels to slip. The unexpected courtesy caught her off guard. “Oh, thanks,” she replied a little more softly than she intended. She stepped aside, careful now, and caught the faintest curve of a smile on his lips as he continued to tighten the bolts. From inside the shop, Chaki peaked out, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Oga Au, you want fixed car or chase fine girl?” He teased an Igbo loud enough for Evelyn to hear. Agu chuckled and shook his head, but didn’t answer. Evelyn allowed herself a tiny smile before turning away. It had been a long time since a man spoke to her without bragging about what he owned or flashing a key fob from some luxury car.

This mechanic’s confidence felt different. Steady, not loud. Still, she quickly buried the thought. Her mother’s voice echoed like a bell. Never marry a poor man. Poverty is bitter. That evening, the sky grew heavy with lowg gray clouds.

A sudden downpour swept across the city, drumming against rooftops and sending market women scrambling to cover their goods. Evelyn, caught halfway home without an umbrella, darted beneath the awning of the very workshop she had passed twice that day. Rain hissed against the corrugated iron roof and bounced off the slick pavement in silver sprays.

Agu emerged from behind a car bonnet, wiping his hands on a clean rag. “You’re welcome to wait here until it slows,” he said, offering the rag for her damp shoulders. “The rain in Anugu doesn’t respect fine clothes.” Evelyn hesitated, then took it with a small nod. “Thank you,” she said, surprised by his thoughtfulness.