Chapter Two: Demolition Day
1079 Words
I didn’t cry that night.
Not when I changed into an oversized shirt and wiped off the makeup I’d spent hours perfecting. Not when I took down the vision board where “Mrs. Kunle Akanbi” had been hand-lettered in gold. Not even when I packed up the carefully folded aso-ebi fabrics and matching gele my sisters had chosen for the wedding.
I didn’t cry. I designed.
At 2:47 a.m., I opened my laptop, pulled up AutoCAD, and created a blank page. A fresh project. I didn’t know what I was drafting yet — a house, maybe. Something simple. Something stable.
Lines and angles comforted me. Precision was dependable. Unlike Kunle’s promises.
It was easier to draw clean spaces than to sit in the ruins of my own.
---
By morning, I had exactly four hours of sleep, two text messages from my sisters, one from my mum, and—surprisingly—one from Dami.
> *Hope you got some rest, Ada.
If not, meet me for coffee at noon. My treat.
D.*
I didn’t reply. But I found myself showered and dressed by 11:30.
My phone buzzed again.
Lara.
Please come in today. We need to discuss project 014. We’re behind schedule.
My lips curled in disbelief. Not “I’m sorry.” Not “let’s talk.” Just business.
Typical Lara. Still pretending she didn’t destroy something last night.
I almost replied. Almost typed something poetic like “You’re a virus in my timeline.”
But I chose silence instead. Silence is classier. More deadly.
---
Dami was already seated when I arrived at the café, tapping on his tablet with one hand and sipping a frothy cappuccino with the other. He wore a crisp white shirt rolled at the sleeves, charcoal pants, and that confident ease of someone who knew he belonged everywhere.
I slid into the seat opposite him.
“No shawarma this time?” I said.
He smirked. “You’ll have to settle for caffeine and sarcasm.”
The waiter brought me a cappuccino without asking. I raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Still remember your order. Even from university.”
“That was six years ago.”
“Some things stick.”
For a moment, I just watched him. He wasn’t trying to impress me. He wasn’t pretending to rescue me. He was just… present.
It was unsettling. And oddly comforting.
“So,” he said, leaning forward, “what’s your plan now?”
“You mean professionally? Or emotionally? Because I’m one breakup away from throwing away my entire Pinterest board.”
He laughed. “Both. But mostly professionally. Are you going back to that firm?”
I hesitated. “It’s complicated.”
“She’s your boss.”
“Exactly.”
“And he was your fiancé.”
“Double homicide.”
He winced in sympathy. “That’s rough.”
I stirred my coffee. “I gave everything to that firm, Dami. Late nights. Public presentations. Working during malaria. Lara and I were never besties, but I respected her. Trusted her. And Kunle… we had plans. Or so I thought.”
He didn’t interrupt. Just waited.
I exhaled. “I need out. I can’t design buildings in a space where my dignity was torn down.”
He nodded slowly. “Then don’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“But it could be.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You sound like you have an idea.”
He sipped his drink and smiled that annoyingly smug smile I used to hate in school.
“I’m opening my own design studio.”
Pause.
Blink.
“What?”
He set the cup down. “A boutique architectural firm. Small team. Passion projects. Less corporate rubbish, more human-centered spaces.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You used to mock people who turned down big firm offers.”
“And you used to color-code your exam notes. We grow.”
I didn’t realize I was smiling until he said, “That’s the first time you’ve smiled today.”
I hid my face behind my cup.
“So,” he continued, “I need a partner. Someone creative, disciplined, and maybe just a little terrifying.”
I frowned. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the best architect I know. And because you deserve to build something of your own. Away from Lara. Away from Kunle. Just you.”
Silence stretched between us.
Temptation tugged at me, but fear whispered louder.
Starting over was terrifying. Walking away from a steady paycheck and building from scratch? That wasn’t a plan. It was a gamble. And I’d just lost big.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, voice quiet.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
---
Later that day, I returned to the office one last time.
Not for a confrontation. Not to scream.
Just to collect my things.
Lara saw me from her glass office but didn’t come out. Kunle’s office door was shut, thank God. The receptionist offered a sad smile, and I nodded once, heading to my desk.
Box by box, I packed up my certificates, design models, sketchbooks, and photos. Everything that used to mean something here.
When I was done, I stood and looked around.
It felt… small. This place. The ambitions I once had here. The energy I used to pour into a space that didn’t protect me.
I walked to Lara’s door, knocked once, and opened it.
She didn’t look up immediately.
Then she did.
“Oh. Adanna.”
“I’m leaving the firm.”
She blinked. “I figured.”
“No drama,” I said, keeping my tone level. “No insults. Just closure.”
She nodded, eyes scanning my face. “You’re talented, you know. One of the best.”
I tilted my head. “Then why sleep with the man who was building a life with me?”
She flinched. Just a little.
I didn’t wait for an answer.
“I hope the promotion was worth it,” I said.
And with that, I left.
---
That night, Dami texted me again.
> No pressure. Just wanted you to know — the studio has a name.
DraftLine & Co.
We’re going to make something beautiful. If you’re in.
I stared at the message.
This wasn’t about revenge anymore. It wasn’t about running.
It was about building something new. For myself. Maybe with him.
I opened my laptop again.
And this time, the page wasn’t blank.
- Writer
