The screams were faint at first, then louder. Somebody help. But no one stopped, not one soul. In the middle of a hot Abuja afternoon, traffic zipped by without mercy. Drivers honked in frustration. Bystanders watched briefly from afar, shook their heads, and walked away.

Lying there on the side of the dusty expressway was an old man, probably in his late 60s, dressed in a white CFAN, now stained with fresh blood and mud. His walking stick lay broken beside him. A few minutes ago, a reckless taxi had struck him and sped off. He rolled off the pavement and collapsed by the roadside, groaning in pain. The crowd stood watching, but no one moved.

Just a few meters away, a young girl in a red jacket and black jeans pulled her delivery bike to a sudden stop. The time on her phone flashed urgently. 12 40 3 p.m. She had only 17 minutes left to make a crucial delivery or she’d be fired. The goods in the delivery box behind her were labeled urgent, fragile, prepaid. Her hands trembled on the bike handle. She looked at the old man again. People were whispering, “Don’t touch him.

” Oh, if he dies, police will blame you. You hear about that boy last week. He tried to help accident victim. Now he’s in prison. Me? I’m not getting involved. I don’t want to go to jail. Adana heard them. She heard every word. But then, like a soft whisper in her heart, she heard another voice, her mother’s voice.

Even if the world turns its back on you, never turn your back on those you can help. Help, Adana. Always help. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her hands shook on the handlebars. This was the kind of moment her mother had talked about. The moment where kindness costs everything. She had only seconds to choose. Save her job or save this dying man. She jumped off the bike. Help me, she shouted.

Let’s take him to the hospital, please. No one moved. Not one person. Adana rushed to the old man. “Sir, please stay with me,” she whispered as she gently knelt beside him. She tried stopping a few taxis, but none stopped. She looked at her delivery box again. Then she made her decision.

She removed her helmet, placed it beside the box, and bent down to lift the old man. He was heavy. Her arms trembled, but somehow she managed to hoist him on her back and then onto her delivery bike. Balancing him across her back, she climbed on the bike again and zoomed off into traffic, into chaos, into the unknown.

She didn’t even look back 12 hours earlier. It was 5 a.m. in a cramped one room apartment at the outskirt of Abuja. Adana, barely 18, was already up. She had washed, packed lunch, ironed school uniforms, and was braiding her sister’s hair while standing. Mara, always the chattier twin, mumbled with a yawn, “Sis, mommy, you should sleep more.

I’ll sleep when you both become doctors.” Adana smiled, tugging gently on Mimi’s hair. Their lives had changed completely after that horrible night one year ago. Armed robbers broke into their home. They took everything, the car, phones, jewelry, and then shot their parents before fleeing. No one ever found out why. No suspects, no arrests, just silence.

Adana became a mother overnight. No uncles stepped up. No aunts offered help. So she sold what little was left and used the money to survive. School had to go. Her dreams had to wait. She withdrew from school. Survival was now priority just to ensure her twin sisters are okay.

She took the only job someone her age without a certificate could do. Courier delivery rider. Most riders were men, but Adana was tough. She learned to ride fast, handle customers, brave the weather, and protect the little she had. Her red swifts jacket became her armor. Every morning she woke early, prepped breakfast, dropped the girls at school, then jumped on her delivery bike, and vanished into the city. Her manager, Kunlay, was known to be strict and cold.

Delivery must reach the customer in 25 minutes max. One late delivery, and you’re gone. Today’s delivery was prepaid, fragile, and urgent. The kind of package you don’t mess up. So when Adana started her ride that morning, she was focused, determined to meet the time. But fate had other plans. Back to the present.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and tension. Adana burst through the glass doors, dragging the old man’s body with her on her back. A nurse gasped and rushed forward. What happened? Accident. Taxi hit him. He’s not responding. Wheelchair quick. In seconds, doctors surrounded the old man and wheeled him into the emergency room. “Are you his relative?” a nurse asked.

“No,” Adana said breathlessly. “I found him on the road.” “Do you have his phone?” She searched the old man’s bloodstained pocket and found his phone. “The screen was cracked, but usable. One number was saved as my son.” She dialed. It rang once, twice, then. Yes, dad. A deep male voice answered. This isn’t your dad, Adana said quickly.

Please, your father was involved in an accident. He’s in Zenith Medical Hospital. Woo zone 6. What? I’m coming now, the man yelled. 30 minutes later, a sleek black SUV sped into the hospital. A tall man, late 20s, dressed in white agada with a designer wristwatch, rushed in. Where is he? My father, he shouted. Adana stepped forward, nervous. You’re his son? Yes.

Where is he? Are you the one who called? Yes, sir. I brought him here. The man froze, looking at her in shock. You brought him on that bike? Adana nodded. He looked past her and rushed into the emergency room where his father lied on the bed, struggling for survival. Do everything within your power to revive him. He’s all I got. I will pay whatever it cost.

Adana dashed back to the scene of the accident. By the time she got there, her delivery box and the goods had been stolen. With tears, she returned to the hospital. Adana’s phone vibrated. It was her manager. She picked it. “Wait, what do you mean? The box is gone?” her manager said angrily and ended the call.

Adana’s voice cracked as she stood outside the hospital, staring lustfully at the empty patch of pavement. She was confused. It was completely gone, vanished like smoke. She turned around and walked back into the hospital, her shoes clicking softly against the floor. The long hallway felt colder now. The moment she entered the waiting area, she spotted Andrew standing by the door of the emergency unit, pacing back and forth.

His white capan shimmerred faintly under the hospital lights, but his face was deeply worried. Before she could say a word, he looked up and spotted her. “Adana, right?” she nodded. “Come,” he said gently but firmly. They walked over to a quiet corner near the coffee machine. He turned and looked at her again, still studying her like she was a puzzle he needed to understand. “My dad’s stable now,” he said.

“But the doctors said if he had been brought in just a few minutes later, he might not have made it.” Adana swallowed hard, a strange mix of relief and guilt tightening in her chest. I I’m glad he’s okay. Andrew nodded slowly, then tilted his head slightly. You lost your delivery, didn’t you? Yes, sir. The box is gone. The goods, everything.

And your job? She blinked back tears. He called me just now. Fired me immediately. Andrew exhaled sharply. You were doing a delivery for Swift send dispatch, right? Adana looked up in surprise. Yes. How did you know? Andrew gave a small smile, one without amusement. Because I own the company. Adana froze. What? You work for one of our satellite branches.

He continued, “Jabi office? That manager? Kunlay is it?” He reports to my general logistics team. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “What’s your full name?” “Adonna Ugo Chuku,” she whispered. He typed for a moment, then tapped the screen. “Kunlay, it’s Andrew.

You just fired a girl named Adana Ugo Chuku. Reverse that order right now. Replace the goods she lost and assign someone else to deliver it immediately. No excuses. He ended the call without waiting for a reply. Adana stared at him, stunned. You didn’t have to. Yes, I did. His voice softened.

You gave up your job and risked everything to save my father. That’s not something you walk past like nothing happened. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but the lump in her throat made it hard to speak. Andrew sat down in one of the plastic waiting chairs and gestured for her to join him.

So tell me, he said after a moment of silence. Who are you? What’s your story? And so she told him everything about her, about the robbery a year ago that took her parents a normal night that ended in a nightmare. How the police never found the killers? How she was just 17 when it happened, but she had to become both mother and father to her twin sisters, Mara and Mimi.

She told him how she sold everything, her laptop, even her school books just to feed the girls. How she dropped out of school to start working. How the courier bike became her lifeline. All the while, Andrew listened, not with pity, but with respect. Why didn’t you reach out to relatives for help? He asked gently. She laughed bitterly. They disappeared the moment the funeral ended. Everyone said they were too busy.

Some blamed us, said my parents should never have lived in that estate, so I stopped calling. Andrew’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing. And yet, he said slowly, “With all of that, you still stop to help a stranger on the road today.” Adana nodded. “My mother always said to help anyone you can, no matter what,” she said. “Kindness is never wasted.

” That line hit Andrew like a blow to the chest. Kindness is never wasted. He looked away for a moment as if trying to gather his thoughts. Then he turned back. Where are your sisters now? At home. I dropped them off at school before the delivery. They’re probably back now. Do they know what happened? She shook her head. Not yet. Andrew stood up.

You’re not going home alone tonight. Huh? I’ll drive you and I’d like to meet them. That evening, a black Bentley pulled up in front of the old compound in Lugbay. The gate creaked as Andrew stepped out in polished shoes, drawing curious stairs from neighbors.

The moment Andrew stepped into their small compound with a Dana, everything around them seemed to pause. People peaked from windows. Children playing football stopped and stared. An expensive black SUV in a place like this didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did a man in polished loafers and designer cologne. Adana felt a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over her.

She looked at the cracks in the wall, the hanging mosquito net, the plastic buckets stacked near the tap. She had tried to keep the house clean, but poverty had a way of showing up in things even soap couldn’t wash. Andrew didn’t say a word. Inside, the room was cramped. A bunk bed stood by the wall. There was one reading table with a dim rechargeable lamp.

A faded photo of their parents hung on the calendar with Adana’s scribbled delivery schedule. “Sis, mommy!” cried Mimi as she opened the door and leapt into Adana’s arms. Mara followed closely, grinning until she noticed the man beside her sister. “Who’s he?” they asked in perfect unison. Adana smiled. “This is Mr. Andrew.” “He helped me today.” Andrew knelt to their level. “Nice to meet you girls.

I’ve heard you’re both very smart and very strong. They giggled shily. Please sit, Adana said awkwardly, clearing some books off the only chair. Andrew shook his head gently. No, I’m fine standing. He turned to the twins. “So, you’re Mimi and Mara, right?” “Yes, sir,” they said together, giggling. “How old are you both?” “10,” Mimi said.

But she’s 2 minutes older, Mara added, pointing at her sister. Andrew smiled for the first time that day. It was the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes. Not yet, but it was real. You girls are very lucky, he said quietly. Your sister is extraordinary. Adana blushed, lowering her gaze. He looked at her again. What’s your plan now? I don’t know, she said honestly. I was fired.

And even though you reversed it, the manager probably won’t let me return in peace. The delivery bike. I borrowed it from the office. I’ll return it tomorrow. After that, I’ll look for something else. Andrew folded his arms and stared at her, thinking deeply. I want to help you, he said finally. Her eyes widened. Help? How? First, you’re not going back to that branch.

I’ll have them transfer your employment record to my head office, but not as a dispatch rider. Adana’s brows lifted. Then what would I be doing? You’ll find out. But more importantly, I want to help your sisters, too. Their education, your rent, all of it. From now on, you’ll never have to worry about where the next meal is coming from. Adana stared at him speechless.

I’m not doing this out of pity, he added. My father is awake now. He asked about the person who saved his life. When I told him it was a young girl on a dispatch bike, he smiled and said, “She didn’t save my life. She gave it back to me.” Tears welled up in Adana’s eyes. “Sir, I don’t even know how to thank you. You’ve already done more than enough,” Andrew said, voice low.

“But I need to ask you something important.” She looked up. “What is it? Would you and your sisters consider moving in temporarily to my house? Just until you’re stable. I’ll enroll you back in school. Get the girls into a better one and we’ll plan things from there. Adana’s mouth dropped slightly. Move in with you? Yes. My mansion is too quiet. I live alone with my father.

Well, he’s stubborn and recovering, but I think having you all around would make the place feel more like a home. You saved his life. He deserves joy around him again. She hesitated, glancing at Mimi and Mara. The girl’s eyes were already twinkling at the idea. I I don’t know what to say, Adana said. Say yes. Andrew smiled.

One week later, the mansion was something out of a movie. white gates, marble floors, a driveway that could park a dozen cars, chandeliers in every room, and a chef who made food that Mimi and Mara couldn’t even pronounce. At first, Adana felt out of place. She still wore her old clothes despite the new ones Andrew provided. She helped the maids clean.

She asked for permission before touching anything. But Johnson, Andrews father, quickly erased all the formality. Adana, come and sit with me here, he’d say from the living room couch. This house has been quiet for too long. Your laughter has woken it up. He started calling her my nurse without uniform.

Within days, he was eating more, smiling more, and insisting on morning walks around the garden. One afternoon, he looked at Andrew and said, “This girl has spirit. She’s not just kind, she’s born for something great.” Andrew didn’t answer.

He just looked at Adana from across the room and something new flickered in his eyes. Admiration, yes, but also something deeper, something he hadn’t felt in years. Meanwhile, Adana was reenrolled in secondary school, the same school she had dropped out of a year ago. Walking back into the classroom as a grown 18-year-old among mostly younger students, was tough. Whispers followed her. Some girls snickered, some respected her, but she didn’t care.

She was back and that was all that mattered. She studied harder than anyone else. She asked questions. She stayed back after school. And when the exam results came out 3 months later, she had the best score in the entire school. Andrew read the results at his office desk and smiled proudly. I knew it. He whispered.

He called her in. You’re going to university next, Adana. And I know exactly what you should study. What? she asked curious. Data analytics, he said. Triple cargo is expanding internationally. We need people we can trust, people like you, Adana felt her heart bloom. You believe in me that much? I always have.

Andrew replied softly. And in that moment, something passed between them. A look, a feeling, one neither of them said out loud. Yet it was just after sunset, and the garden behind Andrew’s mansion glowed with soft lights woven through the trees. A light breeze rustled the leaves, and the sweet smell of jasmine lingered in the air.

Adana stood barefoot in the grass, watching Mimi and Mara play a game of hideand seek around the trimmed bushes. Laughter echoed through the garden-like music, the kind of laughter she hadn’t heard in over a year. She turned slightly and noticed Andrew standing by the balcony, watching them with his hands in his pockets.

His eyes weren’t just observing. They were studying her quietly, closely. Adana felt it again. That strange flutter in her chest that had been growing stronger with each passing day. Since moving in, everything had changed. She had been given a second chance at life, school, comfort, safety. Johnson, the man she saved, had become like a grandfather to her.

Andrew was something she couldn’t even define yet. Kind, gentle, but guarded, like a man who’d carried too many secrets and wasn’t sure if he deserved peace. And yet around her, he smiled more, laughed more, spoke less like a CEO and more like a friend. But something else was happening, too. Feelings were growing and it scared her.

One evening, as the girls were asleep and Johnson was watching football, Andrew and Adana sat quietly by the garden table. The moon was full and the stars sprinkled the sky like glitter on black velvet. Andrew leaned forward. “You know, I never used to sit out here,” he said, gently swirling his glass of orange juice. “This part of the house always felt empty.” Adana looked at him.

It’s peaceful now. That’s because of you. She glanced down, suddenly shy. I’ve just been trying to help. No, he said, his voice dropping a little. You didn’t just help. You brought life back into this place, into my father, into me. There was silence, long and soft, the kind that speaks volumes.

He continued, “When I first built this mansion, I thought it would be my sanctuary. But money doesn’t build homes. People do. Adana nodded slowly. That’s what my mother used to say. She said, “Love makes a place worth living in.” Andrew smiled. “Your mother must have been wise.” She was. She taught me to always help others.

Even if it hurts. Andrew’s eyes glistened under the garden lights. “You’ve lived those words more than anyone I’ve ever met. They sat like that for a while until he suddenly said something that took her by surprise. I want to sponsor you through university fully. And when you graduate, I want you to work at Triple Cargo.

Not as a charity case, but because we need people with your strength and vision. Adana’s eyes widened. But are you sure? He nodded. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Before she could respond, Johnson’s voice called from the hallway. Adana, come and help me turn off this thing. I pressed the wrong button again. They both chuckled.

She stood up, brushing grass off her skirt. As she walked away, Andrew watched her. The way she moved with grace. The way she laughed without bitterness. He felt his heart tug. He knew now he wasn’t just grateful. He was falling in love. Meanwhile, trouble bruise. Not everyone was pleased with the change.

Hunley, the former branch manager who had once fired Adana, had caught wind of her new position and living arrangement. Jealousy ate at him. How could a mere delivery girl be sitting in the mansion of the CEO? He started spreading rumors that she was a manipulator, that she staged the rescue to gain sympathy.

One day, an anonymous message arrived at the front desk of Triple Cargo’s headquarters. Your golden girl isn’t what she seems. She’s using you. Ask her why she was even at that accident scene. Check again. There’s more to the story than you know. The message was unsigned, but the intent was clear. To create doubt.

Andrew read the note in silence, his jaw tightening. He didn’t want to believe it, but he had trusted people before and been betrayed badly. Instead of reacting, he quietly launched a background investigation on the incident, trying to track CCTV footage, find witnesses, anything that could confirm or deny the claim. Meanwhile, he kept the truth from Adana.

One rainy Saturday morning, Adana returned from her tutorial classes, soaked from head to toe. As she stepped into the foyer, she overheard Andrew on the phone. I don’t care what it costs. Check if there were any connections. I want full clarity. If she lied, I need to know. Her heart skipped. Was he talking about her? She stepped back quietly, not sure if she should say anything. Her breath caught in her throat.

Could it be that he didn’t fully trust her? That same evening, as the family gathered for dinner, the maid entered. Sir, there’s a woman at the gate. She says she knows Miss Adana. Adana frowned. Who? The maid handed her a note written in messy handwriting. I know what happened to your parents. Come outside alone. Don’t tell him. Adana’s hands trembled.

What could this mean? She excused herself quietly and stepped out into the night. And there, by the gate under the flickering street lamp, stood a woman in a worn scarf, her eyes tired but piercing. “Who are you?” Adana asked. The woman took a deep breath. I was your parents’ neighbor and I know who killed them.

Adana’s knees nearly gave way. The truth, the truth she’d buried and tried to forget was suddenly at her doorstep. And what she would learn would change everything. The woman standing under the flickering street light looked like a ghost from another life, tired, aged, and weighed down by secrets. Adana’s voice was a whisper. “You knew my parents.

” “I was your neighbor,” the woman said. her tone low and rushed. My name is Madame Stella. I live two houses away from yours in the estate. I’ve been living with guilt for over 2 years, but when I saw your face in the news, I knew I had to find you. Adana’s throat tightened.

Why now? Why didn’t you come before? I was scared, she replied. But I saw what you did for that man. You didn’t even know he was rich. Yet you risked everything. I thought maybe this girl deserves the truth. Adana’s hands trembled. Tell me. Stella stepped closer. The robbery that killed your parents wasn’t random. Adana’s heart dropped.

What? It was planned, Stella whispered. Your father? He refused to sell his company’s land to a certain businessman. That man threatened him. Two weeks later, the robbery happened. But I saw something that night from my window. A black car waiting outside with a driver on the phone. It didn’t look like a regular robbery to me. They left nothing. It was meant to look like theft, but it was an execution.

Tears spilled down Adana’s cheeks. Her entire world tilted. All this time, she thought it was just cruel fate, but it was targeted, calculated. Who was the man? She asked, voice cracking. Stella looked down. I don’t know his name, but I took down the car’s plate number that night. I kept it just in case.

She handed Adana a crumpled piece of paper. Adana held it in her trembling hand, staring at the numbers. The next morning, Adana walked into Andrew’s study. He was working on his laptop. She dropped the note on his table. I need your help. Andrew looked up. What’s this? A plate number. I want to know who owns the car. It may be connected to my parents’ death. Andrews eyes flicked to her face.

Where did you get this? I met someone last night. A witness. He studied her expression. You should have told me earlier. I didn’t know if I could. She replied honestly. I overheard your phone call. You were investigating me. I thought you didn’t trust me. Andrew stood moving closer. Adana, listen to me. I never doubted your heart. But I’ve been burned before.

I needed to protect my father, the company, and even you. If anything had come up, I would have talked to you. She nodded slowly. I’ll find out who owns that car, he promised. Within 48 hours, Andrew’s private investigator returned with results. The car belonged to a shell company under a name. Dr.

Kelvin, a powerful businessman connected to politicians, a dangerous man. Adana’s father had once worked with him and reportedly refused to help him cover up a corrupt land deal. It all made sense now. Adana felt rage, pain, and sorrow boil inside her, but also peace. She hadn’t imagined it. Her parents had been taken from her unjustly.

And now with Andrew’s help, she was ready to take steps for justice carefully, legally, through the right channels. And she wasn’t alone anymore. Weeks passed. 5 months after back and forth in court with high-profile politicians trying to shield him, a federal high court finally decided to give final judgment on the case of Adana’s parents’ murder. The accused, Dr.

Kelvin Odog Wu, stood on the witness box. The evidence against him was overwhelming. He couldn’t defend what his car was doing at the scene of the murder, and his calls that day showed he spoke to a certain gang leader on an execution task and gave the house address of Adana’s parent to him.

The judge ruled and sentenced him to death by hanging. 2 weeks after the judgment was carried out, Adana and her siblings were at peace. Their parents finally got justice through Andrew’s help. The gang leader who led his boys for the execution had earlier been killed by police in a robbery incident a year after they killed Adana’s parents.

Adana was now in her first year at the university studying data analytics as promised. Mimi and Mara had resumed their studies too, now attending a prestigious boarding school with full scholarships from Andrew. Johnson was healthier than ever, walking around the mansion, cracking jokes, even teaching Mimi how to play chess. But something had changed between Adana and Andrew. They no longer needed to say how they felt. Everyone could see it.

Even Barbara could feel the natural connection between them. One evening, while Adana was reading in the library, Andrew walked in quietly. He stood behind her for a moment, just watching. Then he cleared his throat. Adana? She turned. Yes. He walked up slowly and knelt beside her chair. She gasped softly.

From the moment I learned you carry my father on that bike, I knew you were different. But as I watched you bring life to this home, to my family, to me, I realized something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box and opened it. A diamond ring glimmered under the chandelier light. I realized that I don’t just admire you or respect you.

I love you, Adana, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. She stared at him. eyes filling with tears. She didn’t need to think. She already knew the answer. Yes. She threw her arms around him. Yes, Andrew. Yes. The wedding was held in a grand garden under white roses and flowing white canopies.

Government officials, celebrities, business leaders, and even local delivery riders came to witness it. Mimi and Mara walked down the aisle in matching gold gowns, throwing petals. Johnson, proud and beaming, walked to Dana halfway down the aisle before pausing, wiping his eyes, and saying, “Your parents would be proud. But today, I’m proud to be the one giving you away.

” Andrew stood at the altar, unable to stop smiling. Adana wore a simple but stunning lace dress, her hair wrapped in a traditional ge and veil. She looked like royalty, but more importantly, she looked whole. They said their vows. They kissed. They became one.

Two year after their wedding, they welcomed a baby girl together and Andrew was there through it all, which made the pregnancy journey easier for her. A year later, at a youth empowerment conference in Lagos, Adana stood on stage in front of hundreds of young Nigerians. Behind her, a screen displayed the title, “One act of kindness can change everything.” She adjusted the microphone and began, “My name is Adana Ugo Chuku Okafur.

” Few years ago I was a delivery girl on the streets of Abuja orphaned, struggling and forgotten. But one morning I saw a man lying on the road. Everyone passed but I stopped. I gave up a job not knowing I was saving the father of a billionaire. Today I am a wife of their billionaire, a mother, a graduate and a manager at one of Nigeria’s biggest logistics companies. All because of kindness.

Don’t ever hold back from helping someone, even if you’re afraid, even if they can’t pay you back, because kindness always finds a way to reward those who give it sincerely. I am proof. My story is proof. And I believe yours can be, too. The crowd rose in applause. Mimi and Mara watched from the front row, now medical students, proud, tearary, and smiling.

And in the arms of Andrew sat their baby girl Enozi, named after the mother who taught Adana everything she needed to know about love.