Chapter 13: First Date, Finally
1012 Words
The restaurant was hidden behind an art gallery in the heart of Ikoyi a place known for its dim lighting, velvet booths, and soft jazz humming in the background. It wasn’t flashy or high-profile. It was intentional. Just like him.
Tiaraoluwa arrived first. She wore a deep green dress with cap sleeves and block heels, her afro picked into a full halo. A gold pendant rested against her collarbone, catching the low light each time she moved. She sat by the window, calm on the outside, but mentally reviewing every word she might or might not say.
Then, Iremide walked in. Charcoal grey shirt. Black trousers. Watch gleaming. And that smile. The one that made her forget the noise of the world outside.
He walked over and paused before sitting. "You came."
"You asked."
He smiled and took the seat across from her. For a while, they let the quiet build between them, like musicians tuning before the first note.
"You were brilliant today," he said.
"You’ve already said that. Twice."
"And it’ll be true a third time."
The waiter approached, and they ordered peppered grilled fish, fried plantain, and citrus cocktails without fuss. The menu felt like home. Their laughter came more easily with the second course.
"I thought you’d take me to one of those rooftop places with a wine list thicker than a novel," she teased.
He chuckled. "I considered it. But I figured you’d see right through it."
"You were right."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Tiara... what are we doing here?"
She didn’t flinch. "Having dinner."
"Yes. But beyond that."
She met his gaze. "You tell me."
He took a breath. "I don’t want to rush you. Or distract you. You’re building something incredible. But I also don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening."
She studied him for a moment. "I don’t know what it is yet. But I know it feels like something that deserves space."
He nodded, slowly. "That’s enough for me."
They clinked glasses, and for the first time since meeting, their laughter didn’t carry the weight of second-guessing. It was light. Free.
After dinner, they stepped out into the warm Lagos night. He offered his arm. She took it.
As they walked slowly toward her ride, she said, "If you ever write a line of code about me, make it elegant."
He grinned. "It’s already compiling."
They stopped by her car. He opened the door, but didn’t let go of the handle just yet.
"This felt real," he said.
"It was."
"Can I see you again? Properly? Regularly?"
She looked up at him, smile soft but sure. "Yes."
Inside her apartment, her phone buzzed with notifications. Journalists, congratulatory messages, and a reminder from TechSpark about the finalist round.
Her inbox had never looked so full.
She opened a message from her brother, he’d sent a voice note this time. “You looked like Mum today. Not just in the way you dressed. In the way you held yourself. She’d be so proud.”
Tiara sat at the edge of her bed, the weight of the words pressing gently against her chest.
She walked to her window, Lagos lights blinking in the distance. In this city that never stopped moving, something inside her had finally found a rhythm.
A message came through from Iremide.
Iremide: You’re still on my mind. Sleep well, builder.
She smiled and replied:
Tiara: Night, architect. See you soon.
And for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep without drafting tomorrow in her head.
She woke up to a stream of sunlight filtering through the curtains and the sounds of the city beginning its chaotic dance below. But unlike other mornings, she didn’t reach for her laptop or scroll through Slack updates. She just lay still, processing the fullness of the night before.
When she did move, it was slow and intentional. She brewed coffee, played an Asa playlist, and opened her notebook not to plan, but to reflect. The dinner had been more than a date. It had felt like exhaling after years of holding her breath.
Her thoughts drifted to Iremide’s question: What are we doing here? It lingered not because she didn’t have an answer, but because it was the first time in a long while someone had asked with care, not control. She respected that. Respected him.
By midmorning, she pulled up the finalist round email and began sketching her vision for the next pitch. Not with anxiety but with a quiet, determined clarity. The challenge didn’t feel as heavy. Maybe it was love blooming. Or maybe, it was just the relief of being seen and supported.
She glanced at her calendar. The days ahead would be intense, but the foundation felt steadier. The walls she had built around herself were shifting not collapsing, but making room.
She returned to her desk, shoulders relaxed, heart still humming from the night before.
She stretched, stood by her window again, and let herself exhale. There had been so many seasons of grinding in silence moments no one would ever see. This, now, was the reward she never allowed herself to envision clearly: possibility that didn't come with survival terms.
She cleaned her apartment slowly, folding clothes and opening windows to let the air shift. At the back of her closet, she found an old FarmConnect sketch its logo drawn in pencil beside a note that read: “Even if it only helps ten people, it matters.” It made her laugh and tear up at the same time.
In the early evening, she made a simple dinner, poured a glass of zobo, and pulled out the lace fabric she’d promised to sew for her cousin’s upcoming engagement. She worked while music played low in the background, thinking about how many parts of her life had been paused to make space for this dream and how many she wanted to press play on again.
And with a fresh page open, she wrote: Start from truth. Scale with love. Build like legacy depends on it.
- Writer
