(FLASHBACK)
🐉 NATHANIEL'S POV
People think Kelechi talks too much. Too blunt. Too direct. Too emotional. They don't understand that men like him don't talk for noise,they talk because silence once nearly destroyed them.
I met Kelechi in secondary school. Not the kind of place people like me were expected to form real friendships. My world and his were never supposed to cross like that. I came with structure, order, a surname that opened doors before I knocked. He came with life,unfiltered, unprotected, unapologetic.
The first time I saw him, he was fighting. Not arguing. Fighting. Two boys, dust rising, uniforms half-torn, and Kelechi right in the middle of it, refusing to step back like pain was something he had already made peace with. Someone shouted for them to stop, but he didn't move until the other boy staggered away. I remember watching him,not impressed, not shocked, just curious. Because I didn't understand that kind of intensity.
We didn't become friends immediately. Kelechi wasn't the type to attach himself to people, and I wasn't the type to chase anyone. But life has a way of forcing connections where they matter. We started talking, small things at first. School, teachers, random conversations. Then gradually… real things.
It was one afternoon, under the mango tree behind the classroom block, that I understood him. He was quieter than usual, staring into nothing.
"You're quiet," I said.
"Normal," he replied.
"It's not."
He looked at me briefly, then away. "My dad died."
Just like that. No warning. No build-up. Just truth.
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.
He gave a short laugh. "You see? That's the problem. People don't know what to do with real things."
"I'm listening," I said.
He nodded slowly. "He was sick for a long time. We didn't have money. Hospital kept talking, deposit this, pay that. My mum sold everything. Everything."
His jaw tightened. "He died in the house. Not hospital. House. I was there."
Something in my chest shifted.
"I watched him struggle to breathe," he continued. "And there was nothing I could do."
Silence stretched between us, heavy and real.
"I told myself that day… if I ever get the chance, I will not live like that."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Helpless."
That wasn't the end of it. Losing his father was only the beginning. Stability disappeared. School fees became a problem. Food became something you respected. Pride became something you swallowed.
"I used to lie a lot," he told me once. "So people wouldn't see."
"See what?"
"That things were bad."
There was a time he stopped coming to school. When he returned, something in him had hardened.
"I was working," he said when I asked.
"Working?"
"Construction. Carrying cement, mixing. Anything. You think everyone has it easy like you?"
That was Kelechi. No pity. No performance. Just truth.
Years passed. I stepped into my world. He fought his way through his. But one thing never changed, Kelechi sees. Not surface. Not status. Truth.
"You know why I don't envy you?" he asked one night, sitting in my car.
"Why?"
"Because you don't enjoy what you have."
"That's not true."
He looked at me properly. "You've never lacked, so nothing feels like something."
I didn't respond.
"You think control is peace," he added. "But sometimes control is just fear in a fine suit."
"I'm not afraid."
He nodded slowly. "Exactly. You don't even allow yourself to feel enough to be afraid. That's worse."
He leaned back. "You know what hunger feels like? Not appetite,real hunger. The kind that makes you angry."
"No."
"I do. So when I see food, I appreciate it. But you? You've had everything. So nothing moves you."
That stayed with me.
Now when he says I'm empty, it's not an insult. It's recognition.
"You need something real," he told me once. "Something you didn't plan. Something that will shake you."
"I don't need shaking."
He smiled. "Everybody does."
And maybe… that's why when I saw her, I didn't scroll past.
(PRESENT) ❤️🔥 FIVE YEARS LATER ❤️🔥
🦋 IMANI'S POV
Some days don't announce themselves. They don't come with warning signs or heavy emotions. They just start like every other day,and somewhere in between breathing and trying, everything begins to stretch you.
"Imani… you don wake?"
"I don wake, Ma."
"Come help me small."
I step out of my room, tying my wrapper loosely. The house is quiet, but full. Not the empty kind of quiet we used to have. This one feels settled.
We moved two years ago. A bigger house. Not loud, not flashy, just enough space to breathe. Clean compound, fresh paint, a kitchen my mother actually enjoys using. It still surprises me sometimes… this life.
Abraham is in the living room, relaxed, scrolling through his phone. Strong. Healthy. Whole.
"You don finally wake?" he says.
"Good morning to you too."
He smirks. "Morning."
Favour rushes past, bag hanging off his shoulder. "I'm late!"
"You're always late."
"Today is important!"
Final year has changed him. He's focused now. Driven.
Mummy steps out. "Sit down and eat!"
"I'll eat on campus!"
Door slams.
She sighs. "That boy…"
I smile faintly.
This… this is what we prayed for.
Normal.
By 9:15 a.m., I step into my world.
Not a small kitchen anymore.
A restaurant.
IMANI'S KITCHEN
Customers seated. Staff moving. Orders flowing.
"Morning, ma."
"Morning."
"Event booking confirmed, 150 guests."
"Lock it."
Growth. Real growth.
By afternoon, I'm buried in work. Calls. Deliveries. Supervision. There's no room to slow down. Because when you build something from nothing, you don't trust stability easily.
Olivia walks in later, glowing with confidence.
"How's business?" she asks.
"Surviving success."
She laughs. "Your pictures are doing numbers."
"I'm just wearing clothes."
"No," she says, serious now. "You're making girls feel seen."
That hits deeper than expected.
Because I know what it feels like to not be seen.
Night comes quietly. For once, I sit. Alone. Thinking.
Then my phone rings.
Unknown number.
I almost ignore it.
Almost.
But something makes me pick it up.
"Hello?"
A brief pause.
"Hi… good evening. Am I speaking with Imani?"
"Yes, this is Imani."
"My name is Tolu. I hope I'm not calling at a bad time?"
"No, you're fine."
"Alright… thank you. I'll try not to take too much of your time." A pause, then,"I'm actually calling on behalf of my boss and the company I work with. We've been following your work for a while now."
I sit up slightly. "Following?"
"Yes. Your restaurant page, your event setups… even some of your private bookings. My boss pays attention to details like that."
Something about the way she says my boss makes this feel bigger.
"We've actually had internal conversations about your brand," she adds.
That lands.
"And what exactly came out of those conversations?" I ask.
"That you're consistent," she says. "And consistency is something my boss doesn't ignore easily. Most vendors spike once, then drop. But you… your work holds."
I swallow.
"I work with a hospitality and events firm," she continues. "We handle corporate and high-end events. And my boss has been very particular about who we partner with,not just people who can cook, but brands with identity."
Identity.
"The idea is simple," she says. "We bring in client,sconsistent, high-value clients, and build stable partnerships instead of rotating vendors. You keep your name. Your brand stays yours. We just create structure around it."
"And scaling?" I ask. "Because that's not something you jump into."
"I know. And you won't be doing it alone. There's support,planning, coordination, even staffing when needed."
Silence settles.
Real.
"And why me?" I ask quietly.
A pause.
"Because you haven't lost the heart of it," she says. "My boss noticed that first. Then I did. Your work still feels personal."
My chest tightens.
"I just need to ask you something," she continues. "Are you open to growth… even if it stretches you?"
I exhale slowly.
"I'm willing to have the conversation," I say.
"That's enough," she replies gently. "I'll send you details. You'll meet me first… and possibly my boss."
The call ends.
I lower the phone slowly.
My heart is beating faster.
Not just fear.
Possibility.
I sit in my room, listening to my family in the background. Laughter. Life. Peace.
Everything finally feels stable.
And yet…
something is shifting.
************************
Across the city…
Nathaniel stands by his window, phone in hand.
On the screen
A picture.
A woman in a fitted outfit from Olivia's brand. Confidence in her stance. Soft smile. Presence.
Imani.
He doesn't scroll past this time.
And for the first time in a long time…
something holds his attention.
Something real.
XOXO 💋