Pretend I'm Your's

Chapter 6 The Fitting

“Absolutely not.”

I stood in the middle of Zara’s Events office with my arms crossed.

Tunde leaned against my desk like he paid the rent. Which technically, he would if I signed.

“The engagement party is in 3 weeks,” he said. “My mom wants us to pick aso-ebi today. Together.”

“That’s not in the contract.”

“It’s in the ‘be convincing’ clause.” He held up his phone. Text from Mrs. Cole: _My children, please go to Mama Titi. She’s waiting._

I sighed. “Fine. But we’re in and out. 20 minutes.”

Tunde smiled. “20 minutes. Deal.”

Mama Titi’s Bridal & Aso-ebi

The store smelled like perfume, new lace, and pressure.

Mannequins in white. Rolls of gold aso-oke. Women everywhere measuring, pinning, gossiping.

The second we walked in, everything stopped.

“Ah! Tunde Cole!”

“Is that his fiancée?”

“Take picture!”

Tunde’s hand found mine instantly. Like muscle memory.

“Good afternoon, ma,” he said to Mama Titi. Calm. King energy. “We’re here for aso-ebi.”

Mama Titi clapped. “Engagement party! Congratulations to my children! Come, let me show you the best.”

She brought out 4 fabrics. Gold. Ivory. Emerald. Royal blue.

“Which one will my couple choose?”

Tunde looked at me. “You pick. It’s your event.”

I pointed at the gold. “This one. Classic. Photographs well.”

“Perfect taste,” Mama Titi said. “Now, let’s take measurements. Stand together.”

We stood. Shoulder to shoulder.

Too close.

I could feel the heat from his arm through my sleeve.

“Closer,” Mama Titi said, tape measure in hand. “Like a real couple. Yes, like that.”

Tunde shifted. His side pressed against mine. His hand, without thinking, came to rest on my waist.

To help me balance. That’s all.

My breath caught.

“Beautiful,” Mama Titi cooed. “The chemistry is there. You two will have fine children.”

Tunde coughed. “Ma...”

“What? I’m old, not blind.” She winked at me. “This one is in love, I can see.”

I laughed too loud. “No, ma. It’s just... business.”

The word hung in the air. Ugly.

Tunde’s hand dropped from my waist.

“Just business,” he repeated. Quiet.

The room got awkward.

We picked the gold. Paid. Took photos for the invitation.

All of it with 2 inches of space between us now.

In the car after, silence.

“Sorry about that,” I said finally. “I shouldn’t have said business.”

Tunde kept his eyes on the road. “Why not? That’s what this is.”

“Is it?” The question came out before I could stop it.

He glanced at me. Then back on the road.

“Zara, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” I twisted the ring on my finger. “That it didn’t feel like business when you touched me just now.”

Tunde braked at a red light. Turned to me.

“It didn’t,” he admitted. “But it has to. Or we’re both screwed.”

The light turned green.

He didn’t move.

“Tunde—”

“My mom texted,” he cut in. “She wants us for dinner Sunday. To ‘discuss the party.’”

“Oh.”

“Will you come?”

I looked at him. Tired eyes. Jaw tight. The man who kissed me to save me, and was now pretending it meant nothing.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll come.”

That Night

I was working on mood boards for the party at 11pm when my doorbell rang.

Tunde. Again. This time with a paper bag and no sunglasses.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, stepping in. “So I brought suya.”

We ate on my floor. No cameras. No rules. Just suya and cold drinks.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said.

“I know.” He leaned back on his hands. “But I like it here. It’s quiet. No one wants anything from me.”

I looked at him. Really looked. Not the billionaire. Not the fake fiancé.

Just Tunde.

“What happens after 6 weeks?” I asked.

He was quiet for a long time.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I know I don’t want it to end like this.”

My chest tightened.

“Rule 3,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said. “No falling.”

He stood to leave. At the door he paused.

“Gold looks good on you,” he said. “For the party.”

Then he was gone.

I sat there, suya getting cold, thinking about his hand on my waist.

And how 6 weeks suddenly didn’t feel long enough.