Chapter One: Between Brick and Grace
The morning sun poured golden streaks over the red roofs of Gwagwalada, gently waking the quiet streets like a mother waking her children for school. Adanna Ekwe stood on the tiny balcony of her mother’s two-bedroom flat, cradling a chipped mug of milky Lipton. Her fingers, calloused from years of sketching, trembled slightly from exhaustion—an architect’s signature cocktail of stress and ambition.
She took a sip and let out a deep breath.
Today was her first official day as a junior architect at one of the most prestigious design firms in Abuja: Stone & Sky Studios. The name alone felt like a prophecy—firm, grounded, yet reaching for something eternal.
Her heels clicked against the dusty, cracked floor tiles as she turned back inside. Her small room, once shared with both her older sisters, still bore the faded purple paint she had insisted on as a teenager. Posters of architectural wonders—Zaha Hadid’s curves, Frank Lloyd Wright’s angles, Olajumoke Adenowo’s elegance—competed for space with her old church choir certificates and a hand-written Bible verse above her bed: “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.” — Proverbs 16:3.
She had lived by that verse.
Even when she spent nights crying in the University of Abuja library because her laptop crashed mid-project.
Even when she could only afford one meal a day during her master’s.
Even when her last relationship ended in voicemail and silence, just three weeks before her graduation.
And yet, here she was—degree with honours, job secured, and peace (though fragile) returning to her heart like light through stained glass.
“Adanna! Time don go oh!” her mother’s voice echoed from the kitchen.
“Yes, ma!” she called back, slipping into her navy-blue trouser suit. It had cost her more than she liked to admit, but something about it made her stand taller. She quickly pinned her natural hair into a puff and added gold stud earrings—just enough to look serious but not like she was trying too hard.
Before leaving, she stepped into the kitchen. Her mother, small but mighty in a faded wrapper and net hair cover, handed her a foil-wrapped pack of jollof rice and fish.
“For your lunch. Don’t be buying that expensive office food.”
Adanna hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Mummy.”
Her mother nodded, wiping her hands on the wrapper. “And remember what we prayed, eh? You’re not just going to work—you’re going to shine. Let them see who you are.”
That prayer echoed in her chest all the way to the city center. From the rickety bus in Gwagwalada to the BRT ride from Wuse to Central Business District, Adanna watched as Abuja unfolded—clean boulevards, polished office buildings, jacaranda trees lining the roads, and security guards posted in every corner like quiet sentinels.
She stepped off at Banex Plaza, heels clicking across the smooth pavement as she approached the high-rise glass-and-steel building that housed Stone & Sky. Inside, the lobby smelled of eucalyptus and money. Marble floors reflected the light from enormous skylights, and a spiraling staircase climbed toward the open-plan mezzanine where creativity lived.
“Name?” the receptionist asked with a polite smile.
“Adanna Ekwe. First day.”
The woman smiled wider. “Ah, the new UniAbj girl. Welcome. HR is waiting for you on the 5th floor. Elevator’s to your left.”
Adanna nodded, her heart thumping as she stepped into the sleek, silver elevator.
Lord, she whispered as it began to rise, I have no idea what I’m doing. But if this is where You’ve placed me, then I’m walking in faith—even if my knees are shaking.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding.
A new chapter was waiting.
And so was someone she hadn’t met yet—someone who would, eventually, challenge everything she thought she knew about love, faith, and herself.
