All Give, All Take

Lagos never sleeps.

Even at night, the city is alive with people shouting, generators humming, horns blaring, and dreams struggling to survive.

 Cynthia-Rose felt it that evening as she stood by the small window of their flat in Ikeja, staring at the orange glow of streetlights below.

 Her reflection stared back at her on the glass, young, beautiful, tired. Too tired for a girl of twenty-two.

 "Cynthia!" her mother called from the living room.

"Come here." She sighed softly and turned away from the window. The sitting room was small. Old sofa, fan making noise like it wanted to die.

Her mother, Mrs. Ezekwesili, sat upright, hands tightly folded like she was holding bad news inside her chest. Her younger brother, Chuka, stood by the door, restless.

 "What's going on?" Cynthia-Rose asked. Her mother looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

"Sit down first." That tone. That serious tone. Cynthia-Rose's heart skipped. "There is a man," her mother began slowly. "A very important man."

Cynthia-Rose frowned. "What kind of man?"

 "A chief" Chuka her younger brother, cut in, excitement flashing in his eyes. "Big man in Lagos. Very rich." Her mother shot him a warning look.

"Let me talk."

Cynthia-Rose folded her arms. "Mama, please, don't tell me another story of one uncle or politician that will promise heaven and disappear."

"This one is different." her mother said quietly. "His name is Chief Fredrick Mba."

The name landed heavy. Even Cynthia-Rose, who tried to stay away from gossip, had heard that name. Everybody in Lagos knows he was into real estate, politics, oil, influence. The kind of man that sneezes and markets shake.

"So?" Cynthia-Rose asked carefully.

Her mother swallowed. "He wants to see you." The room went quiet.

"See me?" Cynthia-Rose repeated.

"For what?"

Her mother's voice dropped. "He wants to... help us."

Cynthia-Rose stood up immediately. "No."

 "Cynthia-" "I said no" she snapped.

 "I'm not going anywhere to meet any old rich man because of money."

 "Sit down!" her mother said sharply. Cynthia-Rose froze. Her mother rarely raised her voice.

"You think I enjoy this?" her mother continued, eyes shining. "You think I don't know what people will say? But look around you!" She waved her hand around the room.

"Look at this house. Look at your brother struggling in school. Look at the debts. Light bill, hospital bill. Cynthia, we are drowning."

Silence.

Cynthia-Rose felt the familiar weight pressing on her chest. The one she carried every day but pretended wasn't there.

 "So you want to sell me," she said softly. Her mother flinched.

 "God forbid."

 "Then what is it?" Cynthia-Rose asked. "Because that's how it sounds."

 Chuka stepped forward. "It's not like that, Cynthia. Nobody is forcing you. The man just wants to meet you. He likes you."

She laughed bitterly. "Likes me? He doesn't even know me."

 "He has seen you" her mother said. "Your pictures. Your interviews. Your work."

Cynthia-Rose felt cold. "So he saw me and decided he wants me." she said. "Like some property."

"No" her mother whispered. "Like a wife."

The word hit her like slap. "Wife?" Her legs felt weak. She sat back down slowly.

"How old is this man?" she asked.

Her mother hesitated.

 "Mama" Cynthia-Rose warned. "Fifty-five," her mother said.

Cynthia-Rose laughed loud, sharp, painful.

 "Fifty-five" she repeated.

"Mama, that man is older than Papa would have been." Her mother's eyes filled with tears.

"Your father is dead, Cynthia." The room fell quiet again. "And since he died" her mother continued, voice shaking, "life has not been kind to us."

Cynthia-Rose rubbed her temples. "So what exactly does this Chief Mba want?"

Her mother looked down. "Marriage."

 "No" Cynthia-Rose said firmly. "I won't do it."

 "You haven't even met him" Chuka said.

"I don't need to" she replied. "I'm not marrying a man old enough to be my father because of money." Her mother stood up slowly.

"He is not forcing you. He said he wants to talk. That's all."

Cynthia-Rose looked at her mother's face, lined, tired, desperate. For the first time, she saw fear there. Real fear.

"When?" she asked quietly. "Tomorrow evening" her mother said. "At his place. Mba Tower."

Cynthia-Rose's stomach tightened.

 ***

 Mba Tower stood tall like it owned the sky. As Cynthia-Rose stepped out of the car the next evening, she felt small. The building was glass and steel, shining like money itself. Security everywhere. Men in suits. Quiet power.

 "This place no be here o" she muttered under her breath. Her mother squeezed her hand.

"Just be calm. Talk well."

 They were led upstairs.  Very high. The doors opened into a space so big, so quiet, so clean it felt unreal.

Lagos noise disappeared completely.

 Then she saw him. Chief Fredrick Mba stood by the window, hands behind his back, looking out at the city like a king surveying his land. He turned slowly. Tall,  broad, grey hair, clean shaven with sharp eyes that aren't weak, nor frail. Just powerful.

 "Good evening" he greeted them, voice deep and steady.

"You must be Cynthia-Rose." She nodded. 

"Good evening, sir." He smiled slightly.

"Please, sit." They sat. Her mother kept quiet, hands folded. Cynthia-Rose felt like she was on display.

 "I won't waste your time" Chief Mba said calmly.

"I believe in honesty." She nodded again.

 "I have followed your journey." he continued.

"You are intelligent, ambitious and beautiful. Lagos has many beautiful women, but few with your fire."

She didn't respond.

 "I know your family situation" he said. "And I know the kind of pressure you are under."

Her jaw tightened.

 "I am offering stability" he said. "Protection. A future without struggle."

She looked up at him.  "In exchange for what?"

His eyes met hers. Sharp and Direct.

 "Marriage."

Her heart pounded.

"This is not about love" he added. "Not at first. It is an arrangement. Give and take."

She swallowed.

"You will never want for anything." he continued. "Your family will be settled. Your career protected. Your name respected."

 "And what do you want from me?" she asked. He leaned forward slightly. "Loyalty, companionship, presence." She scoffed.

"I'm young enough to be your daughter."

"Yes," he said calmly.

"And old enough to decide." The words silenced her.

 "I am not a cruel man." he said. "I do not cage women. But I do not pretend either. This life has rules." Her mother cleared her throat.

"Chief, thank you for-" "This decision is hers" Chief Mba interrupted gently. "Not yours."

Cynthia-Rose felt something twist inside her.

"I will give you time" he said to her. "One week."

 "One week to decide my whole life" she replied bitterly. He smiled faintly.

"That is how power works, my dear." She stood up.

"I need air."

He nodded. "Of course."

As she walked toward the balcony, Lagos spread out beneath her. Lights, cars. People struggling, hustling, surviving. She realized something then.

 This man was not begging. He was offering. And offers like this never came without a price. Behind her, Chief Fredrick Mba watched her quietly.

 "She will say yes" he thought.

 Because life had a way of forcing choices. And this was only the beginning.