People said Kude was
focused.
He liked it that way.
To him, focus meant
silence around his decisions, silence around emotions he did not want to
manage, and silence from people who expected more from him than he was willing
to give.
Kude believed feelings
were inconvenient. Not feelings in general; just the ones that came from others
when they became complicated.
He dated women, but he
did it like someone selecting useful arrangements for a life already planned.
If a woman had money, he stayed close. If she was kind and emotionally
available, he enjoyed the comfort without asking himself whether he was giving
the same back.
He liked being treated
well.
Like a king sitting quietly in a palace he never built.
He expected respect,
attention, and small sacrifices — the kind people make when they care about
someone. But when a woman tried to express what she felt, Daniel’s expression
changed.
He would listen without
really listening.
Then he would say her feelings were starting to interfere with his future.
“I have plans,” he would
say. “I cannot allow emotional pressure to slow me down.”
The women who stayed a little longer learned something about him.
Kude did not believe in
balancing love. He believed in protecting his own path first, second, and
always.
If a woman needed
reassurance, he called it insecurity.
If she asked for effort, he called it control.
If she spoke about her feelings, he saw it as a threat to his independence.
He never thought of
himself as cruel.
In his mind, he was simply honest and practical.
The truth was that Kude
did not hate women.
He needed them in the way people need comfort, food or warm rooms during cold
nights.
Something pleasant to have nearby, but not something that should demand too
much from him.
When a relationship began
to ask for emotional fairness, Kude slowly withdrew.
Not with arguments.
Just with less time.
Shorter replies.
More excuses about being busy.
Because Kude believed ambition and love could not sit at the same table.
Eventually, the women
left.
Some left quietly after
realizing they were tired of giving more than they received. Others left after
trying to speak one more time and hearing the same answer wrapped in different
words.
Kude continued walking
alone.
He told himself that relationships were distractions unless they served his
goals.
Sometimes, late at night,
when the house was quiet and his phone was silent, he wondered why the people
who once called him king never stayed long enough to bow again.
But he quickly pushed the
thought away.
He told himself that emotions were weaknesses, and weakness was something he
could not afford.
So Kude kept walking,
proud, focused, and alone, believing he was building a great future, not
realizing that he had also built it with a kind of loneliness he had learned to
call strength.

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