Real peace—the kind no villa or business deal had ever given him.
But peace comes at a price.
One afternoon, his assistant pulled him aside and whispered urgently.
“Sir, this is the third meeting you’ve missed.”
“I am taking care of something important,” Mika said calmly.
“Sir, the board is worried. The media has spotted you in the slums again. Investors are asking questions.”
Mika sighed and glanced at Hope.
She was sitting on a small step, drawing in the dirt with a stick, humming a song only children seem to know.
The assistant leaned closer.
“Whatever this is, it’s not just business anymore, is it?”
Mika did not answer.
Deep inside, he already knew.
That little girl was pulling him away from his empire—and he was letting her.
Mika sat on the balcony of his enormous mansion, the city lights glittering behind him, a glass of wine in his hand, a silk robe on his back.
A perfect life by every standard.
Across from him sat Tiana—elegant, beautiful, the kind of woman everyone expected him to marry. She was flipping through wedding catalogs.
“This one is beautiful,” Tiana said, showing him a photo of a beach ceremony. “Simple, but classy.”
Mika nodded slowly, but his eyes were not on the pictures.
His mind was not even in the room.
It was back in the village, with a little girl drawing in the dirt and a woman coughing too much, hiding her pain behind silence.
Tiana placed her hand over his.
“Mika, you’re not here. Talk to me. What is going on?”
He forced a small smile.
“Just work. A lot is happening this week.”
She studied him for a moment, then nodded—not convinced, but tired of asking questions.
Later that night, Mika went into his room and opened a drawer.
Inside was a worn little lion plush toy.
Hope had given it to him that morning.
“For when you’re sad,” she had said.
He held it in his palm, looking at it as though it were made of gold.
Then he gently put it back and closed the drawer.
He slipped into bed beside Tiana.
But his heart was already somewhere else.
Rain fell from the sky as if it had a story to tell.
Mika stepped out of his car holding an umbrella. The dirt roads had turned to mud. The village seemed quieter than usual. A silence heavy with secrets.
He walked toward Grace’s hut. He had brought food, medicine, and a small math book. Hope was struggling.
As he reached the door, he heard a voice inside—soft but clear.
“I don’t think Mika remembers anything,” Grace was saying, her voice heavy with emotion. “But he keeps coming. He brings her gifts. He talks to her as if she already belongs to him.”
Mika stopped.
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