Hardguy

CYBER LOVE ❣️ 😘 🔞

EPISODE TEN (10) Fire and Ice

Yes, we shared our first kiss. Well... that was on his cheek, not what you spoilt minds are thinking.

I could still feel the warmth of that moment as we pulled away from the hug. The thoughtfulness behind everything he had done completely caught me off guard. My cheeks refused to stop blushing.

"Thank you very much. This really feels like home," I said softly, looking around while trying to hide my smile.

Hardguy simply smiled back, and for a brief moment, neither of us needed to say anything else.

He took me to my room, and honestly, I must say this man is very intentional. The moment I stepped inside, I froze for a second. He had decorated the room in a way that reminded me so much of my home back in Ethiopia. The little details, the colours, the atmosphere... it all felt familiar and comforting.

Really, guys, I wasn't expecting any of this.

I honestly thought we would just stay in his house since he had already managed to furnish it so well. But it seemed this Nigerian hot chocolate was determined to make sure I had an unforgettable time.

The effort he put into everything made me wonder how long he had been planning it.

He looked at me and said, "Go and bath and freshen up. Then come and meet me at the dining table."

The journey had been long, and I could feel the tiredness in my body, so I agreed without arguing.

I took my time in the bathroom, letting the warm water wash away the stress of travelling. Afterwards, I did a little touch-up, fixed my hair, and changed into something comfortable. Nothing too fancy, just wanted to look fresh.

As I stood in front of the mirror for a moment, I couldn't help but smile to myself.

This trip was already turning out to be nothing like I had imagined.

As I walked towards the dining table, I was completely shocked by what I saw.

Ladies and gentlemen, please, who said Nigerian men aren't romantic? Please, just keep that opinion to yourself.

Because tell me why my man had a plate of injera waiting for me.

I stood there staring at it for a few seconds before looking at him with the biggest smile on my face. Of all the things I expected to see in Nigeria, this was definitely not one of them.

At that point, I iinterrupted my narration.

"Guys, it's not what you think," Hardguy said, laughing. "I'm just a curious Nigerian, so you can't blame me for trying out new things, nah. (You can't blame me for wanting to try something new.)"

I couldn't hold my laughter.

I turned to the camera, did a little playful whine, and then faced it properly again.

"Well, my lovelies, there you have it. They form hard on the outside, but inside, they are just so soft."

Dinner was lovely.

I won't lie to you people, it wasn't the best injera I have ever eaten, but it was actually not bad at all, aje. (Honestly, it was quite good.)

The effort he put into making something from my culture made every bite taste special. We laughed through dinner, teased each other, and talked about random things. It didn't feel forced. It felt easy... like two people who were simply enjoying each other's company.

We didn't do much for the rest of the day.

He noticed I was still tired from the long journey and gently told me it would be better if I got some proper rest.

He walked me back to my room, and instead of rushing off, he stayed for a while. We sat and talked about little things our childhood memories, funny experiences, and the small cultural differences that kept making us laugh.

Somewhere in the middle of our conversation, my eyes started getting heavy.

I don't even remember when sleep finally took over.

I only remember him helping me settle into bed, making sure I was comfortable before quietly standing up to leave. He pulled the blanket over me, looked at me one last time with a soft smile, and then went to his own room.

My dear, find yourself a very romantic man, please.

Life is already hard enough. At least let somebody be making you smile.

My first night in Nigeria was nothing short of amazing and peaceful. After such a long journey and an even longer day filled with surprises, I slept like a baby.

The next thing I knew, I slowly opened my eyes and found Hardguy sitting quietly by the side of my bed.

Clock it, girls.

Breakfast in bed.

Omo this man was determined to spoil me.

He had prepared scrambled eggs with freshly toasted bread and a cup of hot coffee. The aroma alone was enough to chase away every bit of sleep left in my eyes.

I must give it to him, he is a good cook.

Not better than me, of course.

Although in his dream world, he probably believes he is.

After breakfast, I went to freshen up and get ready for whatever Hardguy had planned for the day. At this point, I had already accepted that this Nigerian man liked surprises.

By the time I came downstairs, he was already waiting for me.

And ladies... this man can dress.

My man can dress like mad, abeg. (My man has an incredible sense of fashion.)

He was standing there looking all confident and stylish as if he had just walked out of a Nollywood movie scene. I looked at him for a second before shaking my head.

Our first destination for the day was the National Museum Lagos.

As we drove through the busy streets of Lagos, Hardguy told me stories about the city, pointing out different landmarks along the way. The energy outside was different from anything I had experienced before. The roads were alive, people were busy, and everywhere seemed to have its own story.

When we finally arrived, I immediately understood why he had chosen this place.

The National Museum Lagos is one of Nigeria's most important historical and cultural landmarks. Located in Onikan, it was established in 1957 to preserve and showcase the country's rich heritage.

Walking through the museum felt like travelling through time.

It is famous for its remarkable collection of Nok terracotta sculptures, some of the oldest known artworks in sub-Saharan Africa. I stood there admiring the craftsmanship, imagining the people who created them hundreds of years ago.

Another unforgettable part of the visit was seeing the magnificent Benin Bronzes, masterpieces that reflect the extraordinary artistic achievements of the ancient Kingdom of Benin.

I was also privileged to see the bullet-riddled car of former Nigerian Head of State Murtala Mohammed, a powerful symbol of an important chapter in Nigeria's modern political history. Standing before it was a sobering moment, reminding me that every nation has stories of sacrifice and struggle.

At the entrance stood Anyanwu, the famous bronze sculpture created by renowned Nigerian artist Ben Enwonwu. The statue represents hope, resilience, and African pride, and it was impossible to walk past it without stopping to admire its beauty.

The museum also houses traditional royal regalia, ceremonial masks, musical instruments, textiles, pottery, and countless artifacts from Nigeria's many ethnic groups.

Every gallery seemed to tell a different story.

For me, it was more than just a museum visit. It was an opportunity to understand the history, culture, and traditions of a country that had already begun to feel strangely familiar.

And as I looked over at Hardguy, who was happily explaining one exhibit after another, I couldn't help but smile.

This Nigerian hot chocolate was not just showing me his country.

He was sharing a piece of himself with me.

I was immersed in Nigerian culture for more than three hours.

All thanks to our tour guide, who patiently educated us about everything we saw. Every artifact had a story, every sculpture carried a history, and every room seemed to reveal another part of Nigeria that I had never known before.

I asked so many questions that Hardguy started laughing at me.

"You sure say you no wan become Nigerian historian? (Are you sure you don't want to become a Nigerian historian?)"

I simply smiled.

Maybe I wasn't becoming a historian, but I was definitely falling in love with the beauty of the country's culture.

We finally left the museum at almost 2 p.m.

As we got into the car, Hardguy suggested that we stop by and check out his businesses.

I agreed immediately because I was curious.

And let me tell you something.

There is a completely different version of Hardguy when it comes to work.

He isn't the loud, tough boss that likes to intimidate people. Instead, he is the strict, respected kind of leader who expects excellence from everyone, including himself.

I watched him interact with his staff.

He listened carefully, corrected mistakes calmly, and paid attention to the smallest details. You could tell that the people around him respected him, not because they were afraid of him, but because they knew he took his work seriously.

I quietly looked at him and thought to myself,

"So this is another side of the man I came all the way from Ethiopia to meet."

By the time we finished, it was already lunchtime.

Once again, Hardguy surprised me.

He took me to My Food by Hilda Baci restaurant.

I was supposed to meet Chef Hilda herself, but unfortunately she had stepped out because of a work emergency. Even though I didn't get to meet her, I was served her famous native rice.

And honestly...

I really loved that meal.

The taste was unlike anything I had eaten before. It had this rich, spicy vibe mixed with different flavours that blended together perfectly. Every spoonful seemed to introduce me to another side of Nigerian cuisine.

I became so focused on enjoying the food that I forgot everything else around me.

Before I realized it, my plate was completely empty.

After we finished eating, I realized just how full I was.

By then, it was already around 4 p.m.

Hardguy suggested that we head home to relax for a while before going out again later that evening.

According to him, he wanted me to experience Nigerian nightlife in a completely different way.

I had no idea what he was planning, but by now I had learned to expect the unexpected.

However, on our way home, something happened that completely shocked me.

A group of young boys suddenly blocked part of the road.

Later, I got to know that people around here called them area boys or agberos.

They had created an illegal checkpoint and were stopping passing vehicles, demanding money from drivers.

When they reached our car, they noticed that Hardguy was well dressed.

One of them suddenly recognized him.

Almost immediately, their attitude changed.

"Oga, today no be small thing o," one of them said with a grin. "You must drop two hundred thousand naira before una go waka. (You have to pay two hundred thousand naira before you can leave.)"

I thought they were joking.

But they weren't.

Hardguy stayed calm.

He tried to negotiate.

"Make we settle fifty thousand and everybody go happy. (Let's make it fifty thousand and everyone will be happy.)"

But one of the boys was determined to cause trouble.

He stepped forward and began threatening to smash the car's windscreen.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

I could feel the tension.

Then one of them looked at me and laughed.

"Omo baba mhi, if you no go drop big bar, omo you and your babe go enter trouble o. (My brother, if you don't pay a big amount, you and your girlfriend will have serious problems.)"

The smile disappeared from Hardguy's face.

His voice became cold.

"No carry that babe enter this matter. (Don't involve that lady in this matter.)"

The boy laughed.

"If I no gree nko? Wetin you go do? (What if I refuse? What are you going to do?)"

That was all it took.

I watched a completely different version of Hardguy appear.

He stepped out of the car.

First, he removed the chain around his neck.

Then his wristwatch.

Then he calmly took off his jacket and handed it to me.

His eyes never left the young man standing in front of him.

The argument became louder.

People nearby began to stop and watch.

And there I was, standing beside the car, completely confused.

Ahaa...

So it's true.

No one is completely okay in Lagos.

Everybody get small craze for head

written by Hardguy

CYBER LOVE ❣️ 😘 🔞

EPISODE NINE (9)

The news that Selma would be coming to Nigeria left me quiet for a moment.

It had been a long time since we had seen each other, and to be honest, the whole thing came as a surprise. The last time we had talked about visiting one another was months ago. It had been one of those beautiful conversations friends have, the kind that sounds nice but somehow keeps getting pushed further into the future.

So when she brought it up again, I found it hard to believe.

"Hope you aren't joking?" I asked, staring at my phone with a doubtful smile on my face.

She laughed softly before replying

"Hardguy, I am really serious about it. My flight is in a month's time from now."

Even then, I was not fully convinced. I knew Selma liked to tease me sometimes, and a part of me felt this was another one of her playful moments.

Then, a few minutes later, my phone buzzed.

She had sent me a video of her flight ticket.

I watched it once.

Then I played it again.

At that point, the reality of everything slowly settled in. She was actually coming to Nigeria.

For a brief moment, I just sat there smiling to myself. It felt strange and exciting at the same time. The distance that had separated us for so long was finally about to disappear, even if it was only for a week.

We spent the rest of that evening talking about her trip. We discussed little things, laughed over old memories, and imagined how everything would go. Eventually, the night grew late, and I went offline.

But sleep was the last thing on my mind.

My thoughts kept running.

I began to wonder how I would prepare for her arrival. How would I make her stay unforgettable? How could I make sure that every moment she spent in Nigeria would leave her with memories she would never forget?

The more I thought about it, the more I remembered how she had welcomed me in Ethiopia.

She had gone above and beyond to make me feel at home. From the places she took me to, to the people she introduced me to, and the effort she put into making every day special, she had set the standard high.

And as a Naija boy, I knew I could not carry last.

"Wetin be this? Person go welcome me well, make I come dull myself?"

No, that was not going to happen.

If anything, I wanted to match her energy and maybe even surprise her.

Since she was going to spend a whole week in Nigeria, I decided that everything had to be carefully planned.

I wanted her to experience the different sides of Nigeria, the warmth of the people, the lively atmosphere, the food, the culture, the little adventures, and the everyday moments that make this country beautiful.

I did not want her to simply visit Nigeria.

I wanted her to feel it.

I wanted every minute of her stay to be special, not because it had to be expensive or extravagant, but because it would be filled with genuine moments that we would both remember long after she boarded her flight back home.

As I lay there thinking about it all, I could not help but smile.

A month suddenly felt like a very long time.

And for the first time in a while, I found myself counting the days.

The first thing on my list was finding an Airbnb that could comfortably accommodate us for the entire week.

I wanted something affordable, but at the same time, it had to be classy. Selma had shown me the beauty and elegance of Ethiopia when I visited, and I wanted her to experience a side of Nigeria that would leave her speechless.

So, I began my search.

For days, I went through different apartments, checking pictures, reading reviews, and imagining what it would be like for the two of us. Then, I found it.

It was everything anyone could ask for.

The interior was beautiful, with modern furniture and a luxurious touch that made the place feel warm and welcoming. The aesthetics were top-notch, but what truly stole my heart was the view.

Step out onto the balcony, and you could see the beach stretching into the distance, calm and endless. At night, the same balcony offered a breathtaking view of Lagos, with the city lights glowing like stars scattered across the earth.

I fell in love with the place immediately.

Then I saw the price.

Five million naira for one week.

"Wetin be this? Dem wan sell the whole of Lagos join the house?" (What is this? Do they want to sell the whole of Lagos together with the apartment?)

Suddenly, the apartment did not look as attractive as it had a few seconds earlier.

I almost abandoned the idea, but after a little negotiation and plenty of back and forth, I managed to bring the price down to four and a half million naira.

It still hurt my pocket, but I told myself that some moments only come once.

I made the payment and fixed the date for our arrival.

With the accommodation settled, I moved to the next part of the plan.

Transportation.

At the very least, I wanted two additional cars besides my own.

Fortunately, I had a friend whose father was deeply involved in the car rental business. With his help, I was able to secure a sleek Mercedes-Benz GLE for two hundred thousand naira per day.

Adding my own car to the arrangement gave us two vehicles, enough to move around comfortably and make the week feel smooth and organized.

After that, I visited a security agency.

I made some inquiries and eventually hired two hefty-looking young men to act as bouncers. They looked serious enough that nobody would want to test them.

The last thing on my checklist was getting an extra videographer.

I wanted the memories preserved.

Not just random phone videos, but something we could look back on years later and smile about.

By the time I was done, everything was in place.

I had spent an entire month preparing, planning, adjusting, and making sure that nothing was missing.

I was not leaving anything to chance.

Finally, the D-day arrived.

I calculated the time her flight would leave Ethiopia and its estimated arrival in Nigeria. After checking and rechecking the schedule, I decided to get to the airport an hour before she landed.

On my way there, I stopped and bought a bouquet of flowers.

It felt like the right thing to do.

As soon as we heard that the Ethiopian Airlines flight had arrived, my crew and I moved into the waiting area.

One of us held up a large card with "SELMA" boldly written across it.

Then we waited.

Minutes felt like hours.

Every time the doors opened, I found myself looking up.

People came out one after another families reuniting, friends hugging, travelers dragging their luggage, but there was no sign of her.

Then, at last...

There she was.

Walking toward us with quiet confidence, dressed elegantly and wearing a smile that made the long wait disappear.

But there was something else that caught my attention immediately.

She was wearing my Nigerian jersey.

For a second, I simply stood there looking at her.

Out of all the clothes she could have chosen, she had decided to wear something that connected her to me and to my country.

I could not explain the feeling.

It was a small gesture, but it touched me deeply.

At that moment, with the noise of the airport fading into the background and my eyes fixed on her, one thought crossed my mind.

This woman was special.

And if I had to go all out to make her mine, then I was more than ready.

My wife stepped toward me and folded her arms with a playful smile.

"Ahan ahan, you narrated how you explored my city. Shouldn't I be the one to narrate my own experience in Nigeria?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at me.

I laughed.

"One plus one is two, snoko," I teased.

"You and I are one, so it doesn't really matter who tells the story."

She shook her head immediately.

"No. I will express how I feel much better by myself."

I looked at the camera and smiled.

"Well, guys, I think I have no choice but to hand this part over to her. That way, all of you will know that I am actually a romantic Nigerian citizen."

She giggled and gently nudged me aside.

"Move small." (Move over a little.)

Then she stepped closer to the camera.

"Hi, everyone," she said with a warm smile. "I think it's only fair that I tell you how my stay in Nigeria felt from my own heart because, trust me, it was an experience I will never forget."

She paused for a second as though she was reliving the memories.

"First of all, stepping out of the plane after such a long flight was not a joke. Even though I am not like some people," she said, glancing at Hardguy with a teasing smile, "I traveled in business class, but it was still a very long journey."

I pretended to be offended.

"See this woman."

I laughed and continued.

"By the time we landed, I was tired, excited, nervous, and happy all at once. My mind was racing because it had been so long since we had seen each other.

"As I walked toward the arrival area where he told me he would be waiting, I kept looking around, wondering where he was.

"Then I saw it.

"There was a beautifully designed welcome card with my name written boldly on it.

"What made it special was that it was not just written with a marker like people usually do. It had been printed elegantly, almost like something prepared for a special guest.

"I could not stop smiling."

She looked down shyly before continuing.

"And then... I saw him."

Her smile grew wider.

"The funny thing is that Hardguy always likes to act strong and serious. He likes carrying that 'hard man' image around."

She turned toward me.

"But the moment our eyes met, I saw everything on his face.

"I saw the happiness.

"I saw the excitement.

"And I am very sure I even saw him blushing, even though he was trying so hard to hide it."

I laughed quietly and looked away.

"Abeg, no expose me for camera." (Please, don't expose me on camera.)

She laughed too.

"I dropped my bags without thinking twice and ran toward him.

"I am not someone who hides my emotions like some people. If I am happy, you will know I am happy. If I miss you, you will know I miss you.

"So I ran straight into his arms."

For a brief moment, her voice softened.

"The hug felt familiar.

"It was warm.

"It was safe.

"And as we stood there holding each other, the noise of the airport seemed to disappear.

"It reminded me of the last time we were together, of all the sweet memories we had shared and all the days we had spent counting until we could see each other again.

"At that moment, I was no longer thinking about the long flight or how tired I was.

"I was simply happy.

"Happy to be in Nigeria.

"Happy to see him again.

"And deep inside my heart, I knew this trip was going to be something truly special.

As I was saying...

The first surprise did not end with seeing him at the airport.

There was another side of my husband that I honestly did not know existed.

After our hug, he smiled and reached behind him. One of the men standing nearby handed him a huge bouquet of flowers.

I was already smiling, but then he gave me a small card.

I opened it and read the words quietly.

"Welcome to Nigeria, Ethiopian Finest.

I wish you nothing but a wonderful experience in Nigeria.

— Hardguy."

It was not just an ordinary greeting card.

It had been specially customized with my picture on it, and the message was not printed. The words had been written with a real pen, giving it that elegant handwritten touch. It was simple, mature, and somehow more meaningful because I knew someone had taken the time to do it personally.

For a few seconds, I could not even speak.

I just stood there looking at the flowers, then at the card, then back at him.

I was completely overwhelmed.

It is one thing when someone says they care about you.

It is another thing when they put so much thought and effort into making you feel special.

At that moment, I truly felt cherished.

As I was still trying to process everything, I noticed one very hefty-looking man quietly walk over to my luggage and pick it up.

I looked at Hardguy.

He only smiled.

As we walked toward the exit, I realized people were actually staring at us.

Maybe it was because of the flowers.

Maybe it was because of the way we hugged.

Or maybe some people recognized us from social media.

Whatever the reason was, I suddenly felt shy.

Then we stepped outside.

Guys...

When a man decides that he wants to impress you, he can really go all out.

Somebody should explain to me why I came outside and saw a beautiful Mercedes-Benz GLE waiting for us, while another serious-looking bodyguard was already standing by the door, ready to open it for me.

I looked at him and laughed.

"Hardguy, wetin be all these?" (Hardguy, what is all this?)

He simply shrugged as if it was nothing.

But I knew it was not nothing.

Every little detail had been planned.

The drive to the apartment was peaceful.

The videographer sat in the front seat, quietly recording little moments, while Hardguy and I sat together at the back.

For the first few minutes, we barely talked.

We simply looked at each other and smiled.

Sometimes distance makes ordinary moments feel extraordinary.

Unfortunately, Lagos decided to welcome me properly.

We entered a traffic jam.

Not just a small one.

A serious Lagos traffic jam that lasted for almost an hour.

At first, I thought I would be bored.

Instead, I found myself fascinated.

Outside the windows, traders moved from one vehicle to another, carrying all kinds of things.

Some sold drinks.

Some sold snacks.

Some even sold items I never imagined people would buy in traffic.

It felt like a moving marketplace.

I watched everything with curiosity.

That was when Hardguy turned to me.

"I want to introduce you to something."

He bought a cold drink and something that looked like little spring rolls wrapped in nylon.

He handed me an almost ice-cold bottle of Pepsi and the snack.

Then he smiled.

"This one na legend."

I looked at it suspiciously.

Before I could ask any questions, he started explaining how to eat it.

At that point, I had to interrupt him.

"Don't come and be lying here oo," I teased.

He laughed immediately.

"No lies."

Guys, I later found out that the snack was called Gala.

To be honest, the first bite felt a little strange to me.

The taste was different from what I was used to.

But after another bite...

And another...

I suddenly understood why Nigerians loved it so much.

By the time we left the traffic, I had already fallen in love with Gala.

Now, it is honestly one of my favorite Nigerian snacks.

Eventually, we arrived at the Airbnb.

And I must confess...

Hardguy put in the work.

The place was absolutely beautiful.

The luxury, the atmosphere, and the hospitality were all top-notch.

But the biggest surprise was waiting inside.

The living room had been decorated with candles, flower petals, and balloons.

It was soft, beautiful, and welcoming.

Then I looked down.

Using the flower petals, someone had carefully written the words:

WELCOME HOME SELMA

I froze.

At that point, the surprises were becoming too much for my heart.

I was overwhelmed.

I did not know when I turned toward him.

I did not know when I ran.

I did not know when I jumped into his arms and held him as tightly as I could.

In that moment, words were not enough.

I only knew that I was happy.

Very happy.

And maybe...

Just then our eyes locked and we shared our first ki.......

"Hey, don't skip important parts," Hardguy suddenly interrupted from behind the camera.

I laughed and covered my face.

"Oops... sorry, guys."

I think this is where we will stop for today because I need to go and check what I am cooking.

And besides...

This is my story, not his.

So I will be the one to narrate it.

written by Hardguy

CYBER LOVE ❣️ 😘 🔞

EPISODE EIGHT (8) REAL SHOCK

Yes guys, it could have happened. I know many of you were rooting for that kiss. Truthfully, I won't even pretend I wasn't. I had imagined that moment more than once, and I couldn't wait to finally press my lips against hers.

To be sincere, even till today, now that she has become my wife, I still admire those lips of hers. Some things never change.

But my people, the reasons I didn't go down that road that night were simple.

First, she had taken a little alcohol and was slightly tipsy. She wasn't completely out of control, but her judgment wasn't at its best either. For me, that was enough reason to draw a line. Love should never come with doubts or regrets, and I never wanted a situation where a beautiful memory could later be misunderstood or seen differently.

Secondly, when I truly love someone, I like to take things slowly. I enjoy the anticipation, the little moments, the conversations, the laughter, and all those tiny things that make the bigger moments even more special. Sometimes the waiting makes the experience sweeter.

And lastly, there was something my mother told me many years ago that has stayed with me ever since.

The day she found out I had a girlfriend, I expected a long lecture or serious warning. Instead, she simply looked at me and said,

"Never play with a woman's heart because she is someone's child."

That was all.

No shouting.
No beating.
Just one sentence.

It was one of those pieces of advice that settled deep inside me, and till today, I still try my best to live by it.

So yes, no kiss happened.

After we settled the bill at the club, we quietly made our way back to the apartment. The drive home was peaceful. We chatted about random things, laughed a little about the night's events, and before long we arrived.

The moment we got inside, I headed straight to my room.

Not because I didn't want to spend more time with her.

In fact, that was exactly the problem.

I knew us. One innocent excuse like, "Let's watch one movie before sleeping," could easily turn into another conversation, another laugh, another lingering moment, and before we knew it, emotions might take over.

Sometimes the best way to avoid temptation is not to negotiate with it at all.

So I wished her goodnight and disappeared into my room.

The next day was Saturday, and honestly, we didn't do much. My return flight was scheduled for the following day, so I decided to do a little shopping before leaving.

One thing I have learned from watching countless documentaries is that if you really want to enjoy a country, don't just visit the famous places, patronize the local people. Buy from their markets, support their small businesses, eat their food, and carry a little piece of their culture home with you.

To me, that's one of the best ways to appreciate a place and the people who call it home.

I got some nice clothes for my siblings, a matching outfit for my parents, and a few bottles of perfume as well. I wanted to return home with something special for everyone. No matter where you travel to, there is always joy in seeing your family smile because of a small gift you brought back.

Then, of course, there was the coffee.

Not just a little.

A lot of it.

I bought raw coffee beans, roasted beans, and even some that were already ground and ready to brew.

Don't worry, I even learned how to roast it myself, so I was already a professional... or at least that's what I liked to believe. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

As the day of my departure drew closer, I could see it in Selma's eyes that she was already missing me. She tried her best to hide it with her usual smile and playful attitude, but sometimes feelings speak louder than words.

And honestly, if she had her way, I think she would have begged me to stay a little longer.

The truth was, I would have loved that too.

But reality was calling.

I was already running low on cash, and I wasn't really hustling much while I was there. Most of my time had been spent offline, enjoying life, making memories, and experiencing Ethiopia instead of chasing work.

Sooner or later, I had to return home.

That evening, I was in my room arranging my two travel boxes, carefully folding clothes and trying to make everything fit.

Suddenly, Selma walked in.

"I came to help," she said with a smile.

Well, my people, na so my Nigerian jersey disappear ooo. (That was how my Nigerian jersey mysteriously disappeared.)

She held it tightly and looked at me with that innocent face that people use when they have already made up their minds.

"I need something that will always remind me of you," she said playfully.

At that point, what option did I really have?

I couldn't collect it back.

So I surrendered the jersey.

Truth be told, seeing her happy with it made me happy too.

She stayed and helped me arrange the rest of my things, making sure I didn't forget anything. Every now and then she would stop, pick up an item, and ask if I had packed it. It felt less like packing for a trip and more like two people quietly preparing for a temporary goodbye.

After a while, she excused herself.

A few minutes later, she returned carrying a neatly wrapped gift..

"This is for you," she said softly. "But don't open it until you get back to Nigeria."

I accepted it, but my mind immediately started working.

My people, I won't lie to you.

The moment she left, curiosity finished me.

I told myself, "Love is good, but I will not allow love to blind me."

What if somebody mistakenly left something inside the package and airport security decided to make me the star of an international documentary?

So later that night, I quietly took a little peek.

Inside was a beautiful box.

I opened it and found a hoodie.

Not just any hoodi, a very high-quality one. The material was soft, the design was clean, and on the front was her brand logo. It looked like part of her own clothing line.

Omo, this babe dey hustle ooooo. (My goodness, this lady is really hardworking.)

I just sat there for a moment, smiling.

It wasn't really about the hoodie.

It was the thought behind it.

She wanted me to leave Ethiopia carrying a piece of her dream with me.

Finally, the day of my flight arrived.

I can't say I was completely happy to leave.

Yes, my family was waiting for me back home. I had work to return to and responsibilities that could not wait forever.

But Ethiopia had been more than amazing.

The people, the culture, the food, the coffee, the laughter, the memories... and, of course, Selma.

Everything about the journey had left a mark on me.

Still, life must go on.

As much as I had enjoyed every moment, I knew it was time to move.

After all, no matter how beautiful another country may be...

there is still no place like home..

I got to the airport by 10 a.m.

One thing about me, I don't joke with time. Missing a flight because of African timing is not the kind of adventure I want to experience.

Selma came with me and stayed by my side the entire time. We sat together, talked about random things, and tried to pretend that one of us wasn't about to leave. Every now and then, there would be a short silence between us, the kind that says much more than words ever could.

Before long, the announcement came.

It was time for passengers to check in and prepare to board.

That was when reality finally hit.

Selma hugged me.

My people, the way that girl hugged me that day, if we had remained like that for three more minutes, I would have passed out.

She held on tightly, almost as if she was trying to stop time itself.

We both knew we were going to miss each other.

I could see tears slowly gathering in her eyes. She tried to smile through them, but emotions have a way of exposing us.

Honestly, I wasn't feeling too strong myself.

But damn, man... one has to move.

Life does not stop because our hearts want one more moment.

"I wish you come back again," she said quietly.

I smiled.

"Definitely. The experience was crazy. I would do it again," I replied.

And I meant every word.

As I picked up my bags and started walking toward the boarding gate, I turned back one last time.

She looked at me, smiled, and blew me a kiss.

Omo, I catch am ooo. (My goodness, I gladly caught it.)

At that moment, I didn't care who was watching.

Some memories are too beautiful to act tough around.

The flight back home was a journey of different emotions.

At first, it was fun. I was still thinking about everything that had happened and smiling to myself.

After some hours, it became boring.

Then eventually, it became tiring.

Sitting in one position for that long can humble anybody. I just wanted to stand up and do something else.

Thankfully, I had enough distractions.

All thanks to the videos and pictures we had taken.

More than a thousand of them.

I kept scrolling through them one after another, taking in every little detail, the smiles, the places we visited, the funny moments, the food, the adventures, and the memories we had created together.

It almost felt like I was reliving the entire trip while flying thousands of feet above the ground.

Eventually, I arrived back in Naija.

Waiting for me outside the airport was my best friend, Jamal, with his father's car.

The moment we shook hands, he looked me up and down and started laughing.

"Baba, na you dey hot ooo."

I laughed and shook my head.

Jamal didn't let me rest.

The entire drive, he kept teasing me, asking questions and making jokes about my Ethiopian adventure.

But to be honest, my mind was somewhere else.

I was busy trying to reach Selma to let her know that I had arrived safely.

What I didn't know was that she had already been keeping track of the time and was probably waiting for my call.

The moment we connected, she sounded relieved.

We talked for a little while, exchanged a few laughs, and then ended the call.

Just hearing her voice after landing somehow made the journey feel complete.

When I finally got home, I dropped my bags, walked straight to my room, and lay down on my bed.

The stress of the trip caught up with me immediately.

I don't even remember when sleep carried me away.

The next day, I went online.

My people, I was shocked.

The pictures and videos from the trip were already getting serious attention. The likes were climbing, the views were increasing, and people were enjoying every moment we had shared.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, Selma posted a short video.

A snippet.

Or should I call it a trailer?

The title made me laugh immediately.

"My Nigerian Big Boy in Ethiopia."

I just sat there staring at my phone and smiling.

Little did I know that what started as a simple trip was gradually becoming a beautiful story that many people were following.

And somehow...

it felt like this was only the beginning.

Within just one hour, the trailer had already crossed 50,000 views on YouTube.

Honestly, I was shocked.

I never knew we had blown up that much.

I knew people enjoyed our pictures and little updates, but I didn't expect that kind of reaction. I kept refreshing the page, thinking maybe YouTube was making a mistake.

It wasn't.

People were actually watching.

Then she finally posted the full video.

My people, it was as if thousands of people had been waiting with their phones in their hands.

The moment it dropped, the views started climbing.

In just twenty-four hours, the video had crossed 200,000 views.

By the time one week passed, it was already pushing close to one million views.

That was crazy.

The most interesting part was how detailed the video was.

It captured almost everything I did in Ethiopi from the moment I landed at the airport to the day I left.

The food.

The adventures.

The shopping.

The laughter.

The road trips.

Even some quiet moments I never knew were being recorded.

There were clips I watched and honestly wondered,

"Who recorded this one?"

Some of them, I didn't even know when the camera was brought out.

I just sat there laughing.

That girl had quietly turned our memories into a proper documentary.

Then the fans started.

At first, it was just people entering my DM.

But before long, the discussions moved to the main comment section.

People wanted to know everything.

Some were asking when Selma would come to Nigeria so she could also experience our culture.

Others were asking if we were dating.

Then one particular person dropped a comment that nearly made me throw my phone away.

The person said Selma was pregnant for me.

Nothing person no go see for this online ooo. (There is absolutely nothing one will not see on the internet.)

The internet can create a whole family for you before you even wake up.

After returning to Nigeria, something inside me changed.

My hustle mentality became different.

I started working twice as hard as I used to.

Maybe it was because I had seen another side of life.

Maybe it was because I wanted to build something meaningful.

Or maybe I simply wanted to create a future worthy of the dreams Selma and I often talked about.

Whatever the reason was, I became obsessed with progress.

With Selma's help, advice, and constant encouragement, I ventured into business.

I opened a big laundry shop.

Then a logistics service.

At the same time, I was quietly working on bigger plans behind the scenes.

A large boutique.

A restaurant.

And a few other projects that I preferred to keep underground until they were ready.

Truth be told, I worked like a criminal.

I don't know any other way to explain it.

I simply tried my best to maintain at least seven to six hours of sleep every day.

Apart from that, na work we dey. (Apart from that, we were always working.)

The phone calls with Selma continued every day.

No matter how busy things became, I always made sure she knew what was happening.

She was part of the journey.

Every new idea.

Every challenge.

Every little success.

I kept her in the loop.

And she was always proud of me.

As the investments began to grow, my life changed quickly.

For the first time, I could clearly see the results of all the hard work.

The first thing I did after my first major cash-out was buy a car.

Nothing too flashy.

Nothing to make unnecessary noise.

Just something comfortable that would make moving around easier.

But to me, it was a symbol.

A reminder that consistency eventually pays.

Selma was genuinely happy for me.

She celebrated every win as though it was her own.

Sometimes I would show her the car through video calls, and she would laugh and tell me that if she visit Nigeria, she would expect a proper tour.

Almost one year passed.

Life settled into a beautiful routine of work, growth, and endless conversations between us.

Then one evening, completely out of the blue, I came online and saw five messages from Selma.

I opened the first one.

It was a picture of her Nigerian visa.

My heart skipped.

I quickly opened the next message.

It simply read:

"I am coming to check out the Giant of Africa."

At that moment, I just stared at my phone and smiled.

It was my turn.

The girl who had shown me the beauty of Ethiopia was finally coming to experience Nigeria.

And deep down, I already knew...

another unforgettable adventure was about to begin.

Written by Hardguy