Chapter 4 Four

The air was thick with the scent of pine and cinnamon as snowflakes lazily danced down from the heavens, kissing rooftops and dusting the earth in a blanket of soft white. Lights twinkled in windows like stars scattered across velvet skies, and the melodic hum of carols drifted from open doors and old radios. It was the last few days of December, and for Lisa, that meant one thing home.

Christmas had always held a special magic for her. It wasn't just about gifts wrapped in glittering paper or the aroma of jollof rice wafting from the kitchen it was about family, laughter, and shared memories. For as long as she could remember, her family made it a tradition to return to their hometown every holiday season, where time seemed to slow, and the chaos of life melted into moments of warmth.

Lisa had just wrapped up her final semester before the winter break, her brain still buzzing from late-night cramming and rushed assignments. But now, as the countryside sped past the car window and the familiar sights of her childhood town came into view, a sense of calm washed over her. Trees lined the dusty road leading to her grandparents' home, where her parents and two younger siblings were already waiting.

As the car pulled up and Lisa stepped out, she was met by a chorus of cheers. Her little brother bounded into her arms, nearly knocking her over, and her mother came out wiping her hands on a checkered apron, eyes gleaming.

"You're home," her mother said, embracing her tightly.

Lisa smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."

That evening, the household buzzed with activity pots clanging in the kitchen, her father singing off-key to a Christmas tune, and her siblings chasing each other across the living room. It was loud, chaotic, and utterly perfect.

The next day, the annual hometown soccer tournament was in full swing. It was one of the most anticipated events of the season, drawing people from neighboring towns. The dusty field had been freshly marked, stalls brimmed with puff-puff and suya, and everywhere Lisa turned, she saw familiar faces friends she hadn't seen in months, even years.

It was there that she saw Emily, her childhood best friend, waving from across the field. Her curls bounced with every step as she ran toward Lisa.

"Girl! You look amazing!" Emily squealed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"So do you!" Lisa laughed, her eyes sparkling. "It's been too long."

The two spent the afternoon cheering on teams, sharing snacks, and catching up like no time had passed. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the crowd began to thin, Emily turned to her.

"Come over for a bit just to say hi to Mom," she insisted. "She keeps asking about you."

Lisa hesitated, glancing at the darkening sky. "Just for a few minutes," she agreed.

Emily's house was only a short walk away. Warm light spilled from the windows, and the smell of fried plantains greeted them at the door. Inside, Emily's mother was in the kitchen, humming as she stirred a pot.

"Aunty!" Lisa exclaimed, grinning. "Good evening."

"Lisa! My daughter!" the woman beamed, drying her hands on a towel to embrace her. "Look at you so grown, so beautiful. How is school?"

"It's going well, thank you," Lisa replied, slipping into the familiar rhythm of polite conversation.

Just then, Emily poked her head around the corner. "Lisa, come to the living room when you're done there's someone I want you to see."

Lisa nodded and excused herself. As she stepped into the hallway, she nearly bumped into someone standing at the entrance to the sitting room.

"Oh! I'm sorry" she began, then froze.

The man turned, equally startled. "Lisa?"

Her breath caught. "Johnson?"

He smiled slowly, recognizing her instantly. "Wow... it's really you."

Lisa stared at him for a second, stunned. It had been over a year since they last spoke on the phone. Back then, Johnson was just a regular guy studying in a neighboring town ambitious but struggling. They used to talk late at night, conversations stretching for hours about everything and nothing. She'd liked him then-his sincerity, his quiet humor. But he had drifted. The last time she reached out, his responses were short, and his tone was distant. She figured he'd moved on or changed.

Now, seeing him in person for the first time, she realized how much he had. Johnson looked nothing like the young man she once imagined pacing dorm hallways with earbuds in. He was taller than she expected, his frame more muscular, his complexion a warm golden brown that seemed to glow in the light. He wore a tailored shirt and expensive cologne that reminded her of lilies and something darker, more intoxicating.

"It's been a while," Lisa said, her voice unsure.

"Yeah," he replied, his tone softer than she remembered. "I didn't expect to run into you here."

"Neither did I," she admitted. "You look... different."

He chuckled. "You mean richer?"

Lisa arched an eyebrow, half-smiling. "I was going to say... grown."

They both laughed easing the tension and for a moment, it was like no time had passed. But time had passed. A lot of it. And the man standing before her now wasn't just the boy she once talked to; he was confident, composed... and obviously successful.

"I should probably get going," Lisa said, suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating. She hesitated, then reached for a pen in her bag. She scribbled her number on a napkin and handed it to him. "In case you want to talk again."

He took it, their fingers brushing. "I will."

That night, her phone buzzed.

Hey, just checking that you got home safely – Johnson.

Lisa stared at the screen for a moment, surprised. Their last conversation had been brief and a little awkward. She hadn't expected a follow-up.

Thanks. I did. It was nice meeting you. she replied.

From that point on, their conversations became frequent-first polite, then playful, then deeper. Johnson texted her every morning, asking about her day, encouraging her studies, sometimes sending gifts-nothing too flashy, just thoughtful. A new notebook here, a snack delivery there. And sometimes, money for "upkeep," though Lisa initially protested.

"I want to," he insisted one evening over the phone. "I know what it's like being a student with a tight budget."

He was sweet. He was thoughtful. And he was different. But he was also confident-too confident sometimes. His tone, often laced with charm, could quickly veer into arrogance. He never failed to remind her of his accomplishments, his status, his money.

"I could take you to Paris tomorrow," he once said, laughing. "Just say the word."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "You don't need to flex your billions. I'm not impressed by private jets."

"But you'd enjoy it," he replied smoothly. "And I'd enjoy spoiling you."

Lisa wasn't sure what unsettled her more: his wealth or the way he wore it like armor.

They grew closer over the following weeks. Johnson's intentions were clear-he wanted her. And not just in the casual, flirtatious way. He spoke of the future, of building something with her, of giving her the kind of life she deserved. Yet Lisa felt torn.

She had only just climbed out of the wreckage of her last relationship-a slow, painful unraveling that had left her wary and bruised. Love, she had learned, wasn't always kind. It wasn't always enough.

Johnson was different. But he was also intense. Maybe too intense.

One snowy evening, while they sat on the front porch of Emily's house with cups of hot cocoa, Johnson turned to her.

"Lisa," he said, his voice serious. "I don't want to waste time. I've met a lot of women, but you-there's something different about you. I want this. I want us."

She looked at him, heart pounding. His eyes were sincere, but his tone carried the weight of expectation.

"Johnson..." she started.

"I know you've been hurt. I'm not him," he said quickly. "And I won't pretend to be perfect, but I'll give you everything. Just say yes."

Lisa swallowed hard, torn between the thrill of his words and the caution in her chest.

What did she really want?

Could she trust him?

Could she trust herself?

Before she could answer, her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number popped up on her screen. It read simply:

Be careful who you trust. Johnson isn't who he says he is.

Lisa's breath caught.

She stared at Johnson, who looked back at her, waiting for a reply.

The wind picked up, rustling the pine trees in the distance, and suddenly, the holiday warmth didn't feel so comforting anymore.

To be continued....