THE ROAD TO ME

Chapter 13

With the stability of my new living arrangement, I began to refocus on my acting career. On my days off, I attended auditions, saving every naira from my salary. My colleagues noticed my determination and often helped me rehearse lines during breaks.

One evening, the CEO visited my room to check on me.

“How’s the new place?” he asked.

“It’s wonderful, sir,” I replied sincerely. “I can’t thank you enough.”

He nodded. “Hard work and integrity will always take you far. Don’t lose sight of your dreams.”

His words stayed with me, igniting a determination to persevere.

Nancy’s frequent calls kept me updated on her successes, and though I sometimes felt envious, I reminded myself that everyone’s journey is different. My time would come.

Settling into my new room at the staff quarters brought a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in months. For the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up without fear of being humiliated or thrown out. The small space represented freedom, stability, and a new chapter in my life.

Each morning, I woke up early to clean my space and prepare for work. My days at the hotel were filled with responsibilities, but I made sure to carve out time to rehearse lines and polish my acting skills. I was determined to seize the next opportunity that came my way.

During those days, I dedicated myself fully to attending rehearsals at the production house where I was registered. Each session felt like a step closer to achieving my dreams. But on one fateful day, an encounter shattered my perception of trust and loyalty.

That morning, before leaving for rehearsal, I called Nancy to check in. She sounded tired and told me she would call back later, but she never did. When I arrived at the rehearsal venue, the place was eerily empty. Confused, I decided to call one of my colleagues who was in town.

“She’s not coming to rehearsal today,” the voice on the other end said, sounding annoyed. “In fact, she might not come to this place for rehearsals ever again.”

Alarmed, I asked, “Why? What happened?”

With a frustrated sigh, the colleague explained, “Our director isn’t keeping his promises. We all paid him money because he assured us he’d help us get linked to opportunities. But instead, he’s been focusing all his energy on his new girlfriend and sidelining us. It’s so unfair!”

The revelation stung, but I tried to remain composed. “Promoting his girlfriend shouldn’t stop you from giving your best,” I said, trying to encourage her. “Come on, don’t give up. Let’s keep working hard. God will reward us—we don’t need to date movie directors to succeed.”

But she wasn’t convinced. “Happy, I’ve made up my mind. I’m looking for a new production house.

Realizing I was getting nowhere, I asked where the director could be found so I could at least inform him that I showed up for rehearsal. Reluctantly, she gave me directions to his house, mentioning that he was probably there with his girlfriend, celebrating her recent success.

The director’s house wasn’t far from the rehearsal venue, so I decided to walk there. When I arrived, a few people were sitting outside, looking equally frustrated. “The director is inside,” one of them said. “He’s with his new girlfriend.”

I approached the sitting room window, intending to knock and announce my presence. But as I got closer, I overheard their voices. They were laughing and sharing intimate words.

“Thank you for everything,” the woman said, her voice brimming with gratitude. “I promise to always be faithful to you.”

Her voice sounded painfully familiar. My heart sank. Could it be? No, it couldn’t. But the more I listened, the clearer it became. The woman’s voice was unmistakably Nancy’s.

Shocked, I rushed back to the people outside and asked, “Who is his new girlfriend?

They exchanged knowing glances before one of them said, “It’s that girl you usually come to rehearsal with. Nancy.”

My head spun. I immediately called Nancy. “How was the location?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

“It was fine,” she replied. “I just got back. I’ll tell you everything when I get home.”

Her words felt like a knife to my heart. This was someone I had trusted, someone who had sworn alongside me that we would never compromise our values by dating directors or producers.

Determined to confront the truth, I returned to the director’s house. This time, I didn’t go alone. I asked one of the girls outside to come with me and do the knocking. I knew that if the director saw me, he might refuse to let me in.

She knocked, and when we were let in, Nancy’s face turned ashen the moment she saw me. Her hands trembled, and she looked like she was about to faint.

I didn’t need an explanation. Her guilt was written all over her face.

“Nancy,” I said calmly, though my voice was trembling with emotion. “You didn’t have to hide this from me. You could have told me the truth.”

She couldn’t meet my eyes. “Happy, I…” she stammered, but no words came.

It wasn’t the fact that she had fallen for the director that hurt me—it was the betrayal, the lies, and the hypocrisy of it all. I had considered her not just a friend but a sister. And now, she had broken a bond I thought was unshakable.

As I turned to leave, I felt a wave of sadness and resolve wash over me. This experience has taught me a harsh lesson: not everyone who starts the journey with you will remain true along the way.

I left the director’s house with a storm of emotions swirling inside me. Betrayal burned deep, but I refused to let it break me. The path to success was riddled with challenges, and this was just another hurdle to overcome.

That night, in the solitude of my room, I cried—not because of Nancy’s betrayal but because I had believed so strongly in our shared dreams and loyalty. I knew I couldn’t carry bitterness in my heart if I wanted to move forward. So, I decided to focus on myself and my goals.

The next day at work, I receive Nancy’s call that she visited Clemson place to look for me only to get there and Clemson tell her stories. She sounded so frustrated.

“Why didn’t you tell Clemson you moved out?” she asked, as if I owed him an explanation.

“It wasn’t his business,” I replied calmly. “He played his role in my journey, and that chapter is closed.”

Nancy sighed. “I get it. But you could’ve at least mentioned to me that you aren't staying any longer than allowing me to go there and be embarrassed.”

“Just like you didn’t mention you were dating the director?” I countered. My voice was firm but not harsh.

There was a pause before she said, “You’re right. I’m sorry. But Happy, I’m not in love with him. I’m just... using him to get opportunities. That’s how this industry works. They use us, we use them. It’s disgusting, but what choice do we have?”

Her words made my stomach churn. “I’ll never do that, Nancy. I’d rather wait and succeed on my own terms.”

She sighed again. “Your journey will be slower, you know.”

“I’ll wait,” I said firmly. “As long as I land well.”

Nancy softened. “I miss us, Happy. Can we meet and put this behind us?”

Reluctantly, I agreed. I directed her to the hotel, explaining my new living arrangements. She was happy I had found a semblance of stability, but when I told her about Clemson’s ultimatum and subsequent actions, her face turned grim.

“I thought he was God-sent,” she said.

“I did too,” I replied. “But now I see everyone I meet as part of God’s plan for my journey. Clemson played his role perfectly, and that’s all he was meant to do.”

Her visit reminded me of how far I’d come. Surviving without parents had been grueling, but it had shaped me into a determined and resilient woman.

However, Nancy’s visit marked the beginning of a new challenge.

Later that day, my manager summoned me, clearly upset. “Why did you let a visitor into the premises?” he demanded.

“It was my off day,” I explained, confused.

“Off day or not, this is a business premise, not a meeting ground for your friends. If you must see people, go out and meet them. Do you understand?”

I apologized, feeling embarrassed and guilty. But from that moment, everything changed.

The manager’s attitude toward me became unbearable. On workdays, he overloaded me with tasks, and on my off days, he ensured I had no free time. I was made to assist in the kitchen, accompany the driver and cooks to the market, and even tag along with him when he went to restock drinks.

When I finally confronted him about being overworked, he threw my living arrangement back in my face.

“You’re using this hotel more than we agreed during your interview,” he said. “No staff is allowed to live here, but you’re practically staying rent-free. If you want to enjoy that favor, you have to return it.”

His words cut deep. I went back to my room and cried, overwhelmed by frustration and exhaustion. Why did people keep treating me this way? Was it so wrong to want a better life?

I felt trapped. The small room that had once been a sanctuary now felt like a cage. My dream of becoming an actress seemed farther away than ever.

Despite the challenges, I refused to give up. Each night, after finishing my tasks, I rehearsed lines in my room. My body was tired, but my spirit remained unbroken.