Lying in the impossibly soft bed later that night, Jacob found himself staring at the ceiling, his eyes wide open. It wasn’t because he was struggling with insomnia. It was because, for the first time in so many years, he was allowing himself to dream.
When Jacob woke the next day, it wasn’t to the harsh sounds of motorcycle taxis or the foul smell of the gutter. Instead, he woke to birdsong from outside his window, warm sunlight streaming past silk curtains, and the wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread coming from downstairs.
He lay still for a moment, just listening. Then he bolted upright, half-convinced this was all an elaborate dream about to fade. But the room was still there. It was clean, elegant, and warm. He touched his face, feeling the neatly trimmed beard, and ran his fingers through his clean hair. A small smile formed. This was actually happening.
A gentle knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Come in, he called out. The door cracked open, and Sophia’s head appeared. Good morning, Mr. Jacob. My mommy said to tell you breakfast is ready.
Good morning, Sophia, he answered with a smile. And please, you can call me Uncle Jacob. Her face lit up in a grin, she nodded, and then she was gone, her footsteps pattering down the hall.
Jacob took a steadying breath, dressed in his new clothes, and made his way downstairs. Monica was already at the dining table, looking professional in a sharp, navy blue suit. Her laptop was open next to a bowl of fresh fruit. Good morning, she greeted him with a warm smile.
Morning, he answered, taking the seat opposite her. The table was laden with food: eggs, toast, pap, acara, and fresh juice. I hope you have an appetite. Jacob blinked at the spread. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen a meal like this. Then eat up, she said, shutting her laptop. You’re going to need your energy.
He looked at her, puzzled. Why? Are we going somewhere? Monica leaned back, taking a sip from her mug. No, she said deliberately. You are starting work today.
Jacob nearly choked on his breath. Work? She nodded. I didn’t ask you to marry me out of pity, Jacob. I was serious. I see a man whose mind is far too sharp to be wasted. EmTech has a place for you. Monica, he protested, I haven’t been in that world for years. I’m… rusty.
She gave him a gentle smile. Then you’ll get polished up quickly. You were one of the best data scientists. That kind of talent doesn’t just disappear. You just need a reminder of who you truly are. He looked down at his food, noticing his hands were shaking. I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.
I do, she replied quietly. Trust me. Jacob fell silent. But somewhere deep inside him, a feeling he thought was long dead began to stir. It was hope.
That same afternoon, Jacob found himself following Monica into the towering glass building that served as the EmTech headquarters. It was one of the continent’s most cutting-edge tech firms. The lobby was a gleaming expanse of glass and chrome, buzzing with an air of confidence. Employees in branded polo shirts with ID lanyards moved about, everyone walking with a clear sense of purpose.
Staff members greeted Monica respectfully as she passed. But heads turned to get a look at the man walking at her side. Jacob could hear the quiet whispers. Is that her new driver? No, doesn’t look like security. Who is he? No one, however, was bold enough to ask her outright.
They took an elevator to the executive floor. Monica led him to a corner office—it was spacious, filled with sunlight, and equipped with a three-monitor setup and whiteboards full of data. A small sign on the desk read: Welcome Mr. Uche, Head of Data Intelligence. Jacob stopped dead in his tracks.
This… this is for me? She nodded. Starting today, you are our new Head of Data Intelligence. You’ll report directly to me. He stepped into the office slowly, his eyes taking in every detail. It felt like walking into a part of himself he’d had to lock away and abandon years ago. He turned back to Monica. Are you certain about this?
Absolutely. From that day forward, Jacob started the process of finding himself again. It wasn’t easy at first. The technology had changed. The software was different, the tools more advanced, the algorithms more complex. But his fundamental instincts for data, that core talent, it was all still there.
It only took a week for him to get his bearings. Soon, he was digging into company metrics, identifying patterns that everyone else had missed, and proposing optimizations that started saving the company millions. Monica would often watch him working from her own office, a quiet sense of pride swelling in her.
One afternoon, she came into his office and set a file down on his desk. Your last report… it just saved us 250 million naira in projected annual losses, she said. The board is very impressed. Jacob looked up, taken aback. I was… I was just doing my job.
That’s what makes you great at it. He blinked, feeling a rush of emotion. I don’t even know how to thank you. Monica smiled and folded her arms. Then don’t. Just keep doing what you’re doing.
Their eyes met, and they held the gaze for a moment longer than was strictly professional. It was a look of quiet understanding, of a growing warmth that neither of them had experienced in a very long time.
The weeks bled into months. Jacob was no longer just getting by; he was truly thriving. He found himself speaking at conferences again, managing data teams, and mentoring young analysts all over the country. The hollowness that had once haunted his eyes was gone, replaced by a vibrant light.
And Monica was changing, too. People noticed she laughed more often. Her smiles seemed more genuine. She started leaving the office at a reasonable hour, spending her evenings on the balcony with Sophia and Jacob, just talking about dreams and about life…
