Writers 
The market was as busy as ever. Traders called out to customers, the sound of bargaining filled the air, and the smell of fresh produce mixed with the delicious aroma of roasted corn from a nearby stall. Everywhere I turned, people were moving in different directions, carrying baskets, pushing wheelbarrows, and arguing playfully over prices.
Some women sat behind their stalls, arranging their goods neatly, while others stood in front of their shops, enthusiastically inviting customers to buy from them. The market was filled with so much life and energy that I couldn't help smiling as I walked through the crowded pathways.
I moved from one stall to another, carefully checking the items on Adrian's list. He had requested vegetables, fresh tomatoes, peppers, onions, chicken, and a few other things. There were also some ingredients he specifically mentioned because, according to him, dinner wouldn't be complete without them.
Knowing Adrian, I wasn't surprised that his list was long enough to feed an entire family.
I shook my head as I looked at the remaining items on my phone.
"Honestly, this man," I muttered to myself. "Does he think I'm opening a restaurant?"
Still, I couldn't help smiling.
There was something strangely satisfying about shopping for him, especially knowing how much he enjoyed my cooking. Whenever I prepared a meal, he always found a way to make me feel as though I had done something extraordinary.
Sometimes, he would eat quietly, occasionally looking up at me with that familiar smile. Other times, he would pull me closer, kiss my forehead, and tell me that no restaurant could ever serve him food as delicious as mine.
And, of course, I always pretended not to be affected by his compliments.
But the truth was, I loved them.
I was inspecting some tomatoes when a woman standing beside me suddenly laughed.
"Young lady, are you planning to buy the whole market?"
I looked up at her and laughed.
"Not the whole market, ma. Just enough to feed one very stubborn man."
The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly interested in my answer.
"Ah! A stubborn man? Is he your husband?"
I smiled and shook my head.
"No."
"No?" she repeated, grinning mischievously. "Then he must be doing something right if you're already buying this much food for him."
I laughed again, picking up another tomato to examine.
"Believe me, ma, you have no idea."
She burst into laughter.
"Ah, my dear! The way you are smiling, I can already tell that this man has captured your heart."
I lowered my head, trying to hide my smile.
"Something like that."
"Something like that?" she teased. "You young girls will never admit anything directly. But don't worry, I understand. Love can make someone do things they never imagined doing."
Her words made me laugh even harder.
The woman introduced herself as Mrs. Bisi, a friendly middle aged woman who sold decorating items and occasionally came to the market to buy groceries for her family. She had a warm, welcoming personality, and before long, we were chatting as though we had known each other for years.
"You should buy from that woman over there," she said, pointing towards a stall farther down the pathway. "Her chicken is always fresh, and she doesn't cheat her customers."
"Thank you, ma. I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome, my dear. Anything for a fellow woman who is trying to keep her man happy."
I laughed.
"You're making it sound like a full time job."
Mrs. Bisi shook her head playfully.
"For some men, it is!"
We both burst into laughter.
While we were standing beside a vegetable stall, my phone suddenly vibrated inside my handbag. A few seconds later, it vibrated again.
And again.
I didn't respond immediately. I simply reached into my handbag, pulled out my phone, and looked at the screen.
As expected, several messages from Adrian were waiting for me.
I couldn't help smiling.
There was something about the way he constantly checked on me that made my heart flutter, even when his attention became a little overwhelming.
I knew Adrian. He liked knowing where I was, what I was doing, and when I would be returning. Even when he was busy with work, he somehow found time to check on me.
Sometimes, I teased him about it, but deep down, I enjoyed knowing that I was always on his mind.
I opened our conversation and began typing.
Adrian: "Baby, are you still at the market?"
Me: "Yes. I'm almost done."
Adrian: "How much longer?"
I glanced at the remaining items on my list.
Me: "Just a little while. I still have to buy the chicken and a few other things."
Adrian: "Good. Don't take too long. I miss you already."
I shook my head, smiling.
Honestly, that man was impossible.
I had barely been away from him for a few hours, yet he was already behaving as though I had been gone for days.
Mrs. Bisi watched me with a knowing smile.
"See? I told you. This man cannot stay away from you."
I laughed, slipping my phone back into my handbag.
"He's just being Adrian."
After finishing my shopping, I checked my list one last time to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Satisfied that I had bought everything Adrian requested, I thanked Mrs. Bisi for her help and said goodbye.
"It was lovely meeting you, ma."
"Same here, my dear. Next time you come around, make sure you greet me."
"I will."
"And tell your stubborn man that he should take good care of you!"
I laughed.
"I'll tell him."
With that, I made my way out of the market, carrying my shopping bags as I carefully navigated through the crowd.
I loved him. And even though his constant attention sometimes made me shake my head in disbelief, there was no denying that a part of me enjoyed being the person he couldn't stop thinking about.
I finally reached the car, opened the door, and placed the shopping bags inside.
Before getting in, I took one last look at my phone.
Another message from Adrian appeared on the screen.
Adrian: "I can't wait to see you, my love."
I smiled softly, my heart warming at his words.
Then I climbed into the car, settled into my seat, and prepared to head home.
Dinner was waiting to be made, and somewhere across the city, my very stubborn man was waiting for me.
And judging by the number of messages he had already sent, I knew he wasn't going to let me forget it.
