The first phone call with Baari was on a Tuesday evening. Lami had been pacing her living room, a nervous energy thrumming through her veins, her phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline. He had suggested a call, and she, with a feigned casualness she didn't feel, had agreed. When his name finally flashed on the screen, she took a deep breath and answered.

“Lami?” his voice was a warm, low rumble, a sound that immediately put her at ease. It was a voice that belonged to a man who had seen the world, who was comfortable in his own skin. It wasn't the squeaky, unsure voice of the boys she'd dated before. It was the voice of a man.

“Hi, Baari,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She sat down on the sofa, her knees weak.

They talked for two hours. It was a conversation that went beyond the usual small talk of dating apps. They discussed everything from their childhood dreams to their biggest fears. Baari spoke about his passion for civil engineering, not just as a job, but as a way to build a better future. He talked about his dreams of creating sustainable housing and building bridges—both literally and figuratively. He was a man with a vision, and he spoke about it with an infectious enthusiasm that made Lami's heart pound.

Lami, in turn, found herself opening up in a way she never had before. She told him about her grandmother's death and how it had been a turning point in her life, forcing her to confront her own mortality and the fleeting nature of time. She talked about her art, about how she used her designs to express the things she couldn't say with words. Baari didn't just listen; he heard her. He asked probing, thoughtful questions that showed he was truly interested in her as a person. He didn't interrupt or try to change the subject. He just let her talk.

“You have a beautiful mind, Lami,” he said at one point, and the compliment, so simple and genuine, made her blush. It wasn’t about her looks or her body; it was about her thoughts, her heart. He was looking at the real her.

When the call finally ended, Lami felt a sense of exhilaration she hadn’t felt in years. She felt a connection that was so real, so profound, it was almost frightening. This was different. This was it.

Their first date was scheduled for that Saturday. They decided to meet at a small, cozy cafe that Lami had always wanted to try. When she arrived, her heart was in her throat. She spotted him immediately, sitting at a corner table, his head buried in a book. He looked even better in person than he did in his pictures. He had a kind face, with laugh lines around his eyes and a smile that lit up the room.

When he saw her, he closed the book and stood up, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Lami,” he said, extending his hand. His touch was firm and warm, sending a pleasant jolt through her. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

“You too,” she replied, her voice a little breathy.

The date was a blur of laughter, shared stories, and an effortless, comfortable silence that was just as meaningful as the conversation. They talked about their families, their favourite movies, and their travel dreams. Baari told her a funny story about a time he got lost while hiking, and Lami found herself laughing until her stomach hurt. He was charming, attentive, and seemed to have a magical ability to say exactly the right thing at the right time.

He told her about his parents, how they had been together for forty years and were still madly in love. “They’re my inspiration,” he said, his eyes a little misty. “I want what they have. A love that’s built to last.”

Lami’s heart swelled. He wasn’t just talking about a fling or a temporary arrangement. He was talking about forever. He was a man who wanted commitment, who believed in a love that was enduring and true. He was everything she had been looking for.

As the date came to an end, Baari walked her to her car. He didn’t try to kiss her or rush anything. He simply said, “I had a wonderful time, Lami. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Me too,” she said, her voice filled with a giddy, undeniable happiness.

She drove home with a lightness in her step and a smile on her face. She felt like she was floating. When she got back to her apartment, she couldn't stop talking about him.

“He’s perfect, Kemi,” she gushed, pacing the living room again, her hands animated as she spoke. “He’s handsome, he’s kind, he’s smart, and he wants the same things I do. He’s the one.”

Kemi, ever the pragmatist, listened patiently, a small, knowing smile on her face. “Lami, it’s just one date. Don’t get carried away.”

“I can’t help it,” Lami said, a sigh escaping her lips. “He’s different. I can feel it. He’s not like the others. He's not playing games. He’s real.”

Over the next two weeks, they went on more dates. A picnic in the park, a visit to an art gallery, a late-night drive to watch the city lights. Each date was better than the last. Baari was a master of grand gestures, but they were always thoughtful and specific to her interests. He bought her a sketchbook and a set of her favourite pencils, a small gift he said was a thank you for "inspiring" him with her art. He wrote her a handwritten note, something no man had ever done for her before, simply to say that he was thinking of her.

Lami was swept away. She was in a perfect, beautiful bubble. Her friends saw the change in her. Her face was brighter, her laughter was more frequent, and her eyes sparkled with a light that had been missing for a long time. They were happy for her, but there was a quiet, underlying concern. They had seen this before. They had seen Lami get her hopes up only to have them dashed.

One day, Lami was sitting with her friends, Amara and Ngozi, at a cafe. They had known her for years, had seen her through every dating disappointment. Amara was blunt, and Ngozi was the more cautious of the two.

"He sounds amazing, Lami," Amara said, stirring her coffee. "But have you met his friends? His family? You know, the people who know the real him?"

"Not yet," Lami said, a little defensively. "We're taking it slow. We're still getting to know each other."

Ngozi, who had been quiet, spoke up. "I'm just saying, Lami, don't rush into things. You tend to fall hard and fast. Just make sure he's who he says he is."

Lami felt a prick of irritation. "You guys don't trust him?" she asked, a hurt tone in her voice.

"It's not that we don't trust him," Amara said, her voice softening. "It's just that we've seen you get hurt so many times. We just want to make sure this time is different. That's all."

Lami knew they meant well, but their caution felt like a cold splash of water on the fire that was raging inside of her. She didn't want to be cautious. She wanted to believe in the magic of it all. She wanted to believe in the fairy tale.

Later that week, Baari surprised her with a weekend getaway to a beautiful resort outside the city. He said it was a little celebration of their one-month anniversary. Lami was breathless. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. She knew her friends would think it was too soon, but she didn’t care. She was living in a dream, and she didn’t want to wake up.

As they drove out of the city, the sun setting in a blaze of orange and purple, Lami turned to Baari, a serene smile on her face. "Thank you for this," she said.

He reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Thank you, Lami,” he said, his voice sincere. “You’ve reminded me what it feels like to be truly happy. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

Lami’s heart melted. He was so perfect. So real. She looked out the window at the passing scenery, the trees and the sky blurring into a beautiful watercolor. She was with the man of her dreams. Her search was over. She was finally, truly, in love. The little voice of doubt, the one that whispered about her desperation and the red flags, was completely silent. It was drowned out by the symphony of love that Baari was conducting.