THE SHOWCASE
1013 Words
The week before the showcase was loud in Liana’s head.
Loud like market on Saturday.
Loud like generators at 1am.
Every morning: sewing machines, threads, scissors.
The sound of ambition.
Every night: staring at the details of her drawing.
Until the lines blurred.
Every break: panic.
Sitting in her chest like a stone.
*Leo: Shawty, you good?*
*Liana: I’m fine.*
*Leo: You said that 4 times today and you sounded like a robot.*
*Leo: The kind that says "I’m fine" and means "I’m falling apart."*
Liana laughed in the middle of the shop.
Real laugh.
Jessica looked up.
*Leo: Go easy on yourself. The dress is already beautiful.*
*Liana: You haven’t even seen it.*
*Leo: I saw the sketch. That’s enough. "The Benin Breeze" sounds like you.*
*Leo: Rooted. Moving. Free. That’s you.*
*Liana: _soft_ Don’t make me cry at work.*
*Leo: Then stop being so talented and making me soft.*
At night.
He sent her voice notes of terrible jokes at 2am just to make her laugh.
Dad jokes.
Bad puns.
The kind that made her snort.
He sent her pictures of his lunch with captions like _“inspiration for your next fabric: rice and stew”_
Orange and brown.
Like her skirt.
He told her to sleep.
Told her to drink water.
Told her _“Madam B and C can shout. You’ll still cook.”_
And slowly, the tension in her chest got smaller.
Like letting air out of a tire.
---
And with every day passing, it was finally D-DAY.
The hall was too bright.
Too loud.
Too much.
Like Benin City decided to fit inside one room.
Backstage.
Liana’s hands were shaking as she adjusted the last mannequin.
Her design.
Her name on a small tag.
_Liana Designs - "The Benin Breeze"_.
Her name.
Her roots.
Her air.
The organza skirt caught the light.
Sunset orange melting into cream.
Like evening in Benin.
The gold threading at the waist looked like real roots.
Spreading.
Holding.
Madam Chic and Bougie looked confident, but sweat was dripping from the corner of her ears and forehead.
Her makeup couldn’t even hide it.
The pressure was showing.
*Madam: If this flops, we’re all looking for new jobs. Make it count. Let’s get a winner from B and C shop.*
She said it with an encouraging smile.
The kind that didn’t reach her eyes.
Liana nodded.
Throat dry.
Heart loud.
Beating in her ears.
People started coming in.
Clients.
Bloggers.
Phones out.
Cameras flashing like lightning.
She smiled.
Nodded.
Explained fabrics she didn’t sleep to choose.
Organza from Yaba.
Thread from Balogun.
Courage from 2am.
But her eyes kept scanning the crowd.
_Don’t look for him. Don’t._
Then she saw him.
Back row.
Plain black shirt.
Hands in pockets.
Like he didn’t want to be noticed.
Like he just wanted to witness.
Leo.
He didn’t wave.
Didn’t smile big.
Just… there.
Present.
Anchor.
*Liana: _to herself_ What is he doing here?*
Designer after designer came out.
Models wearing their designs proudly.
Feathers.
Sequins.
Noise.
_“And now, presenting Liana Designs from Chic and Bougie.”_
Lights hotter.
Music louder.
Her heart in her throat.
Her model stepped out in _"The Benin Breeze"_.
The skirt moved.
It floated.
It breathed.
Like wind through iroko leaves.
People clapped.
Real claps.
Not pity claps.
After what felt like long hours with pressure every minute that passed, it came.
The mic.
The pause.
_“And the award for Best New Voice goes to… Liana Designs!”_
Her chest jumped.
She walked up with a big smile on her face, shaking lightly.
Not from fear.
From _I actually did it_.
From _I didn’t melt_.
Her eyes went wet, but tears didn’t roll down.
She walked to the spotlight and took the small plaque.
Voice small.
Hands big.
Looked out.
He was still there.
Clapping.
Slow.
Proud.
Like a father at a graduation.
After, people swarmed her.
Photos.
Business cards.
“Can you do mine for December?”
“Can you do my sister’s wedding?”
“Are you taking apprentices?”
She answered on autopilot.
But she was looking for black shirt.
He was by the exit.
Waiting.
Like he’d waited through the whole thing.
The crowd thinned.
He walked to her.
No rush.
Respectful.
But she ran to him and flew into his arms.
*Leo: You did it.*
*Liana: _laughs, nervous_ I didn’t fall.*
*Leo: You didn’t just not fall. You flew. See? You didn’t melt after all. They took a lick from you and saw that you’re good.*
He brought his hands forward.
Small bouquet.
Sunflowers and white roses.
And a bar of chocolate.
The expensive one.
The one with nuts.
*Leo: For the girl who wins and still thinks she’s lucky, not good.*
People were watching.
Some were taking pictures.
Benin is small like that.
Leo didn’t care.
He pulled her into another hug.
Quick.
Tight.
One arm.
Respectful.
Just _I saw you. I’m proud of you._
Just _I was here._
*Liana: _whispers in his shirt_ Thank you.*
*Leo: _whispers back_ For what?*
*Liana: For showing up.*
He let go.
One step back.
Space.
Honor.
*Leo: Eat the chocolate before it melts. And the flowers before they die. Both won’t last, but today will.*
His phone buzzed in his hand.
_Alexia calling_
Name on the screen.
Liana saw it.
His jaw moved once.
Tiny.
But she saw.
*Leo: I’m going to head out now, shawty.*
He dabbed her shoulder gently and ruffled her hair like she was a little child.
*Leo: Later, cutie. No, I mean later, Miss Champ. You killed it, Liana. For real.* _small smile_ *I’ll text you later.*
He turned.
Walked out.
Didn’t look back.
Liana stood there.
Plaque in one hand.
Flowers in the other.
Chocolate in her palm.
Phone still buzzing.
A smile still plastered on her face.
The hall was loud again.
But in her head?
Quiet.
The kind of quiet that comes after someone chooses to show up for you in public.
And chooses to leave before it gets messy.
--
- Writer
