MK was born into hardship. Her earliest memories were of the red dust that rose from the narrow paths around her village, of her mother's hands—cracked and calloused from endless labor—and of the scent of boiling maize that filled their small home on good days. She came from a family of five, and though food was scarce, her mother somehow ensured they never went to bed without at least two meals a day. Breakfast was a luxury, an occasional treat that marked moments of unexpected fortune.
Her father was a shadow in her childhood. She knew his name but not his presence; she could count on one hand the number of times she had seen him. When she turned eight, he disappeared completely, the same year her younger sister was born.
Her mother, a woman of unyielding strength, worked tirelessly to feed her children. By dawn she would leave for odd jobs in the nearby town—washing clothes, carrying bricks, cleaning houses—only to return before dusk to tend their small plot of land. Because of her devotion, the family's garden never failed to yield something: rows of green vegetables, mounds of potatoes, and the occasional pumpkin when the rains were kind.
MK assumed responsibility early. She had witnessed her mother's humiliation at the hands of neighbors and relatives who mocked their poverty. The sight hardened her resolve. While other children played, she fetched water, sold vegetables by the roadside, and learned that life demanded endurance before joy.
She held one goal close to her heart: to grow up, become wealthy, and lift her family out of want. Yet the road toward that dream proved steeper than she had ever imagined. "How can one climb a mountain with no shoes?" she would whisper to herself whenever her stomach growled from hunger.
Her childhood was a collage of small jobs—hawking, cleaning, and serving others—all in pursuit of a better future. The job she finally secured required great physical effort but offered meager pay. Though an average student, she had barely qualified for college. She abandoned the pursuit of higher education when it became clear that her family could not afford the fees.
"I want to be a professional footballer," MK announced one afternoon, her voice steady though her heart trembled. Her friends laughed, thinking it a dream too distant. But she was good—so good that she eventually became captain of her team. For a while, football gave her life meaning. The field became her escape, a place where sweat and speed replaced worry.
Then the demands of survival began to intrude. She missed training sessions to work extra shifts and often arrived at matches too exhausted to perform. Her dribbling weakened, her accuracy faltered, and soon the once-promising striker found herself on the bench. Scouts stopped calling. The future she had imagined slowly dissolved.
MK lied to her family, telling them she had found a decent job. In truth, she worked for the city as a cleaner—collecting garbage, unclogging drains, and enduring the stench that clung to her clothes. The labor was backbreaking, the pay pitiful. Yet she continued, sending most of her earnings home. Her happiness became a reflection of her family's comfort. But as years passed, frustration began to eat away at her resolve.
When an overseas employment agency promised work without requiring payment—only a passport—MK seized the chance. She did not think twice.
Her first day abroad surprised her. The streets were wide and clean, lined with neon signs that flickered in languages she did not understand. The air smelled of roasted coffee and distant rain. Her new employers owned an entertainment company, and she worked as a cleaner in their office building. To her surprise, the job felt easier than what she had endured at home. Her endurance became her strength, earning her a promotion within months.
Her employers respected her discipline. They began entrusting her with tasks beyond cleaning—handling schedules, maintaining records, assisting with minor administrative work. Slowly, her diligence carved out a name for her. Yet MK knew she wanted more. With what she learned from observation, she decided to establish her own small entertainment company back in her home country.
At first, progress was slow. She invested everything she had, and many doubted her. But when investors noticed her unique and ethical approach to the industry, they grew intrigued. Shares were bought, partnerships formed, and her company began to rise.
At twenty-five, MK returned home to attend her cousin's wedding. The music filled the courtyard; laughter floated like perfume in the air. Her cousin, two years younger, stood radiant beside her groom. MK watched from the crowd, her smile sincere but her heart detached. She had never wished for a family or children. Perhaps she feared giving her children the same emptiness she had known, or perhaps she simply did not trust the concept of love after growing up fatherless.
Her mother's eyes glistened with quiet longing as she admired the ceremony. MK noticed and felt a familiar ache. She had told her mother for years that she had not yet found the right person. In truth, she had stopped searching. She once developed a fleeting affection for a girl, though she never spoke of it. It was easier to hide behind silence.
That was when she made a practical decision—to marry her best friend, Mike Lewis.
"We will be married on paper only," MK told him as they sat beneath a streetlamp one quiet evening. "I just don't want people to speak ill of my mother."
Mike looked at her, eyes steady. "I understand," he said softly. "But maybe, in time, you'll learn to love me."
He accepted without hesitation. Unemployed at the time, Mike moved in with her. When they went out together, MK would discreetly hand him money so he could pay the bills. In their culture, it was expected that a man provided for the woman, and she wanted to protect his dignity. Mike, proud and grateful, played his part with quiet grace.
MK owned half of Starlight Company but kept her ownership secret. Using her influence, she secured Mike a job there. He began as a manager and was later promoted to CEO, the board trusting him completely—unaware that the true owner was his wife.
MK remained the head of the finance department, a position she cherished. Her oversight ensured that no funds were misused, and the company's stability became her greatest triumph. While other businesses suffered from corruption, hers thrived under quiet discipline.
At home, however, MK and Mike lived like companions, not lovers. In public they smiled, held hands, and appeared the perfect couple. Behind closed doors, they each led separate lives. Their only agreement was discretion: whatever they did privately must remain private. The arrangement suited them both.
As Mike's reputation grew, gaining international recognition, MK began to feel guilty for using him as a shield. Eventually, she decided to consummate their marriage—not out of love, but out of duty.
She took a day off to prepare, her heart heavy but resolute. Yet before she could
Mike had made the headlines. She felt no anger, only an unexpected calm. "How can one cheat," she thought, "when love was never part of the arrangement?".