Daughter of Lagos

Chapter 3: A Promise Broken

Stepping into my car, I couldn't help but let my mind drift backward. The leather seat was cool against my back, the quiet of the parked car wrapping around me like a blanket. But inside my head, noise. Memories.

I was thinking back to the moment I gave Tunde my first time. The night felt so big back then, like the start of forever. His voice was soft in my ear, promising things that sounded impossible to break.

"Eniola," he had said, his forehead pressed to mine. "I want you to know that you'll always have my heart and my love. After we graduate, I promise to officially make you my wife. Tunde Jackson's wife."

I believed him. Every word. I was young and full of hope, and I thought love alone was enough to hold a future together.

Ha. Thinking back now, I realize how naive I was. I fell for a few words. A few sweet sentences spoken in a moment when everything felt possible. I shook my head hard, like I could physically clear the memories from my mind. That girl who believed so easily didn't exist anymore. The woman I was now had built herself from the pieces left after that promise broke.

I started the car. The engine hummed to life and I pulled out of the driveway, forcing my eyes to stay on the road instead of the rearview mirror. By the time I got to my office downtown, Lagos traffic had already tested my patience, but I was used to it. Success had a price, and traffic was one of mine.

My secretary, Anna, was waiting at the front desk with her tablet and that efficient smile she always had at 8am sharp. She fell into step beside me as I walked toward my office.

"Good morning, ma'am," she said. "Let me run through your schedule for today."

I nodded, unlocking my office door. The space smelled like coffee and the faint trace of fabric samples from yesterday's fittings. It was my sanctuary. The place where I had built everything from nothing.

"Ma'am, you're having a meeting with the board at 10am this morning," Anna continued, swiping through her notes. "After that, Mrs. Afolabi's daughter in law will be here by 1pm. Mrs. Afolabi wants you to design a wedding dress for her daughter in law to be. She mentioned she's looking for something classic but with a modern Lagos touch."

I made a mental note to pull some lace and silk samples after the board meeting. Wedding dresses were my specialty now, but each one still felt personal. Each bride deserved to feel like the center of the world for one day.

Anna kept going. "Then, Mrs. Tunde Jackson wants to discuss cooperation. The meeting is scheduled for 3pm today, and..."

Hearing the name Tunde Jackson hit me like a wave. For half a second the office tilted. The universe must be making a joke out of me. Of all the names, of all the clients, why today? Why now? My chest tightened and I couldn't stop myself from interrupting her before she could go any further.

"That will be all for today," I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended. "Cancel the other meetings and send my assistant to my office. Thank you, Anna."

She blinked, surprised by the sudden change, but she was professional enough not to ask questions. "Yes, ma'am. I'll handle it right away."

Left alone in my quiet space, the silence felt heavy. I sank into my chair and let my hands rest on the desk. Without the distraction of work, my thoughts went straight back to the past.

How my Temi had to suffer as a child. She was subjected to gossips at school and in the neighborhood. "That girl with no father." "Who is her daddy?" Children could be cruel without meaning to be, and adults were sometimes worse. She lacked the proper environment that every child deserves to grow well. No big compound with cousins, no grandparents' house for holidays, no family photos with a man standing beside us. Just her and me, figuring it out day by day.

I remembered the nights I stayed up sewing by hand because we couldn't afford electricity. I remembered carrying her on my back to deliver alterations to clients because bus fare was for food instead. I remembered the day I decided I would never let her feel like she was less than anyone else, even if I had to work until my fingers bled to make it true.

How I had to work my way from being a local tailor surviving to make ends meet to where I am now. From a small table under a mango tree in the market, to a shop with two sewing machines, to this office with glass walls and my name on the door. Eniola Williams Designs. Every stitch, every late night, every "no" I heard before someone finally said "yes" had brought me here.

I decided to snap out of it. Dwelling on the past wouldn't pay the bills or feed the women who worked for me. I pulled forward a stack of documents and started signing where needed, my pen moving in steady strokes. Then I opened my laptop and began reviewing project proposals. New boutique opening in Ikoyi. Corporate uniforms for a bank. A magazine feature. I decided which ones to approve based on vision, budget, and whether the client understood that quality takes time.

The sound of someone knocking on my office door interrupted my work. Three soft knocks. I didn't need anyone to tell me who it was. Only one person knocked like that.

"Come in, Pascal," I said without lifting my head. My eyes stayed on the contract in front of me.

"Good morning, ma'am," his voice came from the doorway. "You sent for me?"

Only then did I finally lift my head to face him. Pascal had been my assistant for three years now. Loyal, sharp, and discreet. Exactly what I needed in this business. I straightened my back and let my tone show the seriousness of what I was about to ask.

"Yes, Pascal," I said. "I need you to preside over the cooperation meeting with Mrs. Tunde Jackson. Sit in my place. Listen to everything she proposes. Ask questions about terms, timelines, and expectations. And make sure you bring me every single document before making any decisions. Nothing gets signed without me seeing it first. Thank you."

His expression didn't change. He just nodded once. "Understood, ma'am. I'll handle it."

Hearing the sound of the door closing behind him, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a few minutes before the meeting was supposed to start. Instinct made me pick up the small mirror I kept in my drawer. I checked my lipstick, smoothed a stray hair, made sure my appearance was as polished as my reputation. In this business, you never let them see you flinch.

Before I could set the mirror down, my secretary's voice came through the intercom. "Ma'am, the meeting is starting soon and your materials are ready. Pascal has the presentation deck and the sample folders."

"Thank you, Anna," I replied, pressing the button.

I stood up, straightened my blazer, and made my way to the conference room. Every step was measured. Every breath was controlled. Mrs. Tunde Jackson wanted cooperation. Fine. She would get the professional version of Eniola Williams. The woman who built an empire after a promise broke. The mother who made sure her daughter never wanted for anything, even if it meant breaking herself to do it.

Tunde Jackson's wife could wait in that meeting room. Eniola Williams was done waiting for anyone.