Chapter Three: Four Girls, Different Dreams
1673 Words
“I'm officially tired of being an adult.”
Ara announced this to her office desk at exactly 10:17 on Monday morning.
Nobody answered.
She looked around the office, disappointed.
“Wow. So we're ignoring mental health now?”
Her colleague, Tunde, didn't even look up from his computer.
“Ara, you have been here for forty-seven minutes.”
“And in those forty-seven minutes, I've suffered enough for one week.”
Tunde shook his head. “You need help.”
“I need a rich uncle who remembers my existence.”
“You don't have a rich uncle.”
“That's why I'm suffering.”
He laughed, and Ara returned to her screen, pretending to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of her.
She worked in the administrative department of a well-established company in Lagos. Her job was stable, her salary arrived more or less on time, and her colleagues were generally decent people.
Still, some mornings, she wondered whether adulthood was simply a never-ending cycle of waking up early, answering emails, paying bills, and pretending to understand why every meeting needed another meeting.
Her phone vibrated beside her keyboard.
A message from Hannah appeared in the girls' group chat.
Hannah: Emergency meeting this weekend. Attendance is compulsory.
Ara immediately typed back.
Ara: Who died?
Hannah: Nobody!
Ara: Then why are you shouting?
Elena: Please ignore her. She's planning another outing.
Hannah: An outing is not a crime!
Ara: Depends on the location and the amount of money involved.
Elena sent a laughing emoji.
Hannah replied with a voice note, which Ara played quietly through one earbud.
“Ladies, we need to go out. Elena has been hiding inside her business, Ara has probably married her office chair, and I refuse to spend another weekend discussing dress measurements with a woman who doesn't know what she wants.”
Ara burst out laughing.
Her colleague finally turned towards her.
“What's funny?”
“My friends. They're the only reason I haven't resigned from society.”
“Can you share the joke?”
“No. You don't have the emotional qualifications.”
He threw a pen at her. She dodged it, laughing even harder.
Ara: Fine. I'm coming. But if the food is expensive, I'm pretending I don't know any of you.
Elena: You say that every time.
Ara: And every time, I end up paying for extra food. I need to protect my finances.
Hannah: Seven o'clock. Don't be late.
Ara: If I'm late, start without me. If you order food without me, we're no longer friends.
Elena sent a heart.
For a moment, Ara's expression softened.
They had known one another long enough to understand that the jokes were only part of what held them together. They could tease each other mercilessly, but when something genuinely went wrong, they showed up.
That was what mattered.
---
Across the city, Elena was having a very different Monday.
She sat behind her worktable, examining a gift box she had just finished. The colours matched perfectly, the ribbon was neat, and the handwritten message sat exactly where it should.
It was beautiful.
At least, she thought so.
She photographed it and uploaded it to her business page.
Then she waited for a few seconds before forcing herself to put the phone down.
She had promised herself she would stop checking her notifications every minute.
Ten minutes later, she checked anyway.
One new comment.
Her heart lifted.
Comment: How much?
Elena quickly replied with the price and delivery details.
The person viewed the message.
Then disappeared.
Elena stared at the screen.
“May your data finish at the most inconvenient time,” she muttered.
She dropped the phone onto the table and continued working.
She wasn't going to give up because a few potential customers had changed their minds. She knew businesses took time to grow. She only wished the process came with fewer moments of wondering whether she was doing enough.
Her phone rang again.
This time, it was her mother.
“Good afternoon, Mummy.”
“Good afternoon, my daughter. How is work?”
“Fine, ma.”
“Are you eating well?”
Elena smiled. Her mother could ask that question even if they had spoken only an hour earlier.
“Yes, Mummy.”
“And don't spend all your money buying materials. Keep something for yourself.”
“I know, ma.”
“Knowing is different from doing.”
Elena laughed softly. “I'll be careful.”
After the call ended, she sat quietly for a moment.
She wanted her business to succeed—not simply because she wanted money, but because she wanted to prove to herself that she could build something of her own.
She wanted customers who returned because they trusted her work. She wanted to look at her business months from now and see progress.
And perhaps, one day, she wanted to stop feeling nervous every time she calculated her expenses.
Her phone buzzed.
Hannah: Remember, Saturday. No cancelling.
Elena smiled.
Elena: I haven't cancelled.
Hannah: You were thinking about it.
Elena: Are you inside my head?
Hannah: Unfortunately for you, yes.
Elena laughed and returned to work.
---
By Saturday evening, Hannah had changed her outfit twice, rejected one pair of earrings, and declared that her wardrobe had betrayed her.
Ara, meanwhile, was already dressed and waiting for her ride.
She checked the time.
Then she opened the group chat.
Ara: I'm ready. Somebody please explain why the fashion designer is fighting with her clothes.
Hannah: Because they aren't cooperating.
Ara: Have you tried speaking to them in a language they understand?
Elena: Hannah, please come outside before Ara starts charging us for waiting.
Ara: Too late. My waiting fee has started accumulating.
Hannah finally appeared, looking stylish in a carefully chosen outfit.
Ara stared at her through the video call.
“Okay. I hate to admit this, but you look good.”
Hannah smiled proudly. “Thank you.”
“Don't let it enter your head.”
“Too late.”
Elena joined the call a few minutes later, and the three friends laughed as they prepared to meet.
Their destination was a lively restaurant with music playing in the background, warm lighting, and enough space for them to talk without shouting over every sentence.
Once they settled at their table, Ara placed her handbag beside her and looked at the menu.
“Before anybody orders, I need everyone to remember that I'm a woman of modest means.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “You received your salary this week.”
“And the salary has already met several responsibilities. We are no longer close.”
Elena laughed.
The waiter came to take their orders, and for the next few minutes, they argued about food, drinks, and whether sharing a plate was a sign of friendship or financial irresponsibility.
Eventually, the conversation turned serious.
Ara rested her chin on her hand.
“So, what are we actually doing with our lives?”
Hannah blinked. “We're eating.”
“You know what I mean.”
Elena looked between them.
Ara continued, “I work every day. I go home. I sleep. I wake up and repeat the process. Sometimes I wonder if I'm building a future or just surviving my calendar.”
For once, nobody made a joke.
Hannah slowly nodded.
“I understand that feeling. I love designing clothes, but some clients make me question every decision I've ever made.”
Elena smiled. “At least you know what you love doing.”
“And you don't?” Hannah asked.
“I do. I love my business. I just wish it was easier to grow.”
Ara reached across the table and tapped Elena's hand.
“Your gift boxes are beautiful. You need more people to see them.”
“That's the problem. How do I get more people to see them?”
“Social media,” Hannah said.
Elena sighed. “I've tried.”
“Then we'll try again,” Ara replied. “We'll take better pictures, share your posts, and help you promote your business.”
Elena looked at her friends.
“You'd really do that?”
Ara gave her a look of exaggerated offence.
“No. I only said it because I wanted to hear my own voice.”
Hannah laughed.
“Of course we'll help you.”
Elena felt a warmth spread through her chest.
They all had different lives and different worries. Hannah was trying to establish herself as a respected fashion designer. Ara wanted a life that felt bigger than her office routine. Elena wanted her business to grow into something she could be proud of.
None of them had everything figured out.
Perhaps that was the point.
They didn't need to have all the answers tonight. They only needed to keep moving, support one another, and make room for the dreams they were sometimes too afraid to say aloud.
As the evening continued, the serious conversation gradually gave way to jokes again.
Ara told a story about accidentally sending a work complaint to the wrong group chat. Hannah nearly choked on her drink laughing, while Elena demanded to know how Ara still had a job.
“It was an honest mistake,” Ara insisted.
“You wrote that your manager could turn a two-minute task into a national project!” Hannah exclaimed.
“And I stand by my statement.”
They laughed until their eyes watered.
None of them noticed the young woman at a nearby table who had overheard part of their conversation and smiled at their easy friendship.
They didn't know her name.
They didn't know that their paths might eventually cross.
And they certainly didn't know how much their lives would change in the months ahead.
For now, they were simply three friends sharing a meal, laughing about their problems, and dreaming about better days.
Three women with different ambitions.
Three lives moving in different directions.
And a future none of them could predict.
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