Chapter Four: Of Deadlines and Divine Timing
718 Words
“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” Zara leaned against Adanna’s desk, munching chin chin from a Ziploc bag.
It was Friday afternoon, and the team was gathering for their usual end-of-week hangout—somewhere in Wuse 2 with overpriced wings, cheap mocktails, and enough office gossip to fuel a telenovela.
Adanna smiled as she packed up her sketchpad. “Thanks, but I promised my mum I’d help her at the shop today. She’s been low on staff all week.”
Zara squinted. “Is it a salon, boutique, or…?”
“Second-hand clothing. Gwagwalada market.”
“Ohhh—bend-down select!” Zara grinned. “Respect.”
Adanna laughed. “Yeah, but we’ve graduated to a canopy and plastic hangers now. We’re classy.”
“Just say the word if you ever want help. I fold clothes like it’s an Olympic sport.”
Adanna appreciated Zara’s warmth. Behind the chaos and sass, she had a soft heart.
As she turned to leave, Toba’s voice came from behind. “Adanna, quick word?”
She spun around, pulse picking up.
His office was tucked in the corner—spacious but modest, with framed sketches on the wall and the scent of old leather and air-freshener clashing in a weird but comforting way.
He motioned for her to sit.
“So,” he began, resting his elbows on the desk. “We’ve got a new pitch next week. Smaller project. Private client. I want you to lead the first concept presentation.”
Adanna blinked. “Me? Lead?”
“Yes. You’ve got good eyes. And heart. I want to see how you think when you’re not just supporting.”
She hesitated. “But I’ve only been here two weeks.”
He gave a half-smile. “Then it’ll be a short fall if you mess up.”
She chuckled nervously. “Thanks. That’s comforting.”
“Look, you’re smart. You have a unique perspective. And you care about people. That’s what architecture needs.”
He slid a folder across the table.
“Client is Mrs. Onwudiwe. Retired banker. She wants a home that feels like a sanctuary but not like a chapel. Soft luxury, nature-focused, minimalist. She has money, but doesn’t want anything ‘show offy.’ Her words.”
Adanna took the folder, nodding slowly.
Toba tilted his head slightly. “Also… she’s the governor’s aunt. So… no pressure.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
He leaned back, expression thoughtful. “You’re going to be brilliant. Just… don’t overthink it. Design like you pray—honest, deliberate, and from the soul.”
Those words stayed with her the rest of the day.
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Back in Gwagwalada, her mother’s market stall was buzzing with Saturday shoppers. Racks of carefully sorted clothes swayed in the breeze, while little children chased each other around the plastic stools.
“Mama, this one still has the Zara tag!” a customer exclaimed.
“I told you,” her mother beamed. “We don’t sell nonsense here.”
Adanna worked the cashbox with ease, tying nylons, smiling at old customers, and helping a teenage girl choose a dress for her graduation.
It grounded her—this chaos, this color, this corner of her life that reminded her where she came from.
Later that evening, as she sat cross-legged on the floor of their sitting room, folder open, rough sketches scattered, she felt the weight of the opportunity sink in.
What if she wasn’t good enough?
What if this was just a fluke?
She stared at the blank page. Her fingers froze.
She reached for her Bible. Opened at random.
Psalm 90:17 – “Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands for us.”
Her breath slowed. Her heart softened.
And just like that, the ideas started to come.
Soft curves instead of hard edges. Skylights that welcomed morning sun. A quiet reading room with a garden view. Walls painted in sage green and ivory, not white—because white felt too loud for rest.
By midnight, her sketchpad was full.
She whispered a prayer of thanks and smiled.
She still had fears, yes.
But she had faith too.
And right now, that was enough.
- Writer
