Then she added, “Mom is very sick. So I sell yams after school.”
Mika Okoro had closed many deals in his life, but this—this was something he could not ignore.
Something woke up inside him, a feeling he could not explain.
He looked again at the little girl, Hope, standing there with her tray of yams and her tired eyes.
He pulled out his wallet, bought everything she had, then said softly, “Come. I’ll walk you home. It isn’t safe to walk alone.”
But she shook her head.
“No, thank you. Mommy told me not to talk to strangers. I just sell and go home.”
Her voice was soft but firm.
Mika laughed nervously.
“I’m not a stranger. I’m just someone who wants to help.”
But Hope had already packed up her tray.
“Thank you, sir,” she said with a little curtsy.
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And just like that, she turned and disappeared into the busy market crowd.
Mika stood there speechless.
He turned to his driver.
“Follow her discreetly. Don’t let her see you. I want to know where she lives.”
The driver nodded and got out of the SUV.
Mika waited one minute. Five. Ten.
Then the driver returned, shaking his head.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone? How gone?”
