Colours That Talk Back
1368 Words
Chapter 5: Colours That Talk Back
Emilia hadn’t planned on going anywhere that Saturday. The house was quiet, the kettle was warm, and the colours in her sketchbook were finally behaving.
Then her phone buzzed.
KEMI: Guess who’s back in town?
Before Emilia could even reply, there was a knock at the door. No, not a knock — a full drumbeat. Three loud bangs and a voice shouting, “If you don’t open this door in five seconds, I’m climbing through the kitchen window!”
Emilia was already smiling as she ran to open it.
There stood Kemi — box braids up in a high bun, oversized sunglasses, a neon pink handbag swinging off her shoulder, and a grin that could blind traffic.
“Eeeeemiiiiiliaaaa!” Kemi squealed, arms already open for a hug. “Girl, you look exactly the same! Still cute, still quiet, still wearing paint on your elbows like it’s perfume!”
Emilia laughed, “And you look like trouble.”
Kemi didn’t deny it. She barged in like she owned the place, dropping her bag on the couch and spinning in a slow circle. “Still smells like eucalyptus and ambition in here. I love it.”
“You didn’t even tell me you were coming back,” Emilia said, closing the door behind her.
Kemi flopped onto the couch dramatically. “Surprise! I missed you. Lagos was too loud. I needed a break. And who better to babysit me than my calm, artsy best friend?”
“You’re not staying here,” Emilia said with a raised brow.
Kemi gasped. “Excuse me! You’re rejecting me? I thought we were sisters in paint and poverty!”
Emilia rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. “You’re dramatic.”
“And you’re boring.”
They both burst out laughing.
After some catching up and a lot of fast talking (mostly Kemi), the kettle was back on. Emilia made tea. Kemi added biscuits and stories from Lagos — fashion shows, failed dates, a guy with one dreadlock who claimed he was a prophet.
“You should get out more,” Kemi said mid-chew. “You’re too indoors. Too much alone time. When was the last time you went to a party?”
“Party?” Emilia raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, a gathering, a celebration, people, music, dancing, maybe a little heartbreak.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It sounds like life,” Kemi said. “You, my darling, need to live again.”
Emilia didn’t argue. She knew Kemi was right. The colours in her paintings had started moving again, but her world? Still small.
“Fine,” Emilia said with a smirk. “Only if you don’t drag me to one of those street fashion shows where everyone’s taller than me.”
“No promises,” Kemi said. “Also, tell me about this Alex guy. You slipped and mentioned him earlier like I wouldn’t notice.”
Emilia froze. “It’s nothing. Just someone I met at the library.”
“Mmhmm,” Kemi leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Is he fine-fine or just book-fine?”
Emilia laughed into her tea. “Kemi!”
“I’m serious! I need to assess this man’s face. Artist to artist. Also, if he breaks your heart, I need to know how hard I’m slapping him.”
Emilia shook her head, still smiling.
She hadn’t laughed like this in months. And even though the sky outside had turned grey, inside the room felt full of colour.
Later that evening, Emilia stood in front of her mirror, second-guessing everything.
“I look ridiculous,” she said, tugging at her shirt. “This neckline is too wide.”
“You look like a woman who needs a cocktail and a playlist,” Kemi said behind her, already wearing heels indoors. “Besides, it’s just a rooftop hangout. Chill people, chill music. Not a wedding.”
“I haven’t been out in ages,” Emilia muttered.
“Exactly,” Kemi replied, tossing her a denim jacket. “Time to remind the streets you exist.”
Emilia sighed but followed her out the door anyway.
The venue was a low-rise building turned art space, with fairy lights hanging overhead and mismatched chairs scattered across the rooftop. There were paintings along the walls, a small table of drinks in the corner, and soft Afrobeats floating through the evening air.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t chaotic.
It was… comfortable.
“You didn’t tell me this was an art event,” Emilia whispered.
“I knew you’d say no,” Kemi winked.
Emilia rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. They moved through the crowd slowly. People were chatting, sipping drinks, laughing in soft bursts. A few artists were sketching on notepads or talking shop in the far corner.
And then Emilia froze.
Standing by one of the wall paintings — a deep blend of red and purple — was Alex.
He wasn’t looking at her.
He hadn’t seen her yet.
He looked different, more relaxed, talking to someone Emilia didn’t know. No hoodie today. A soft grey shirt, sleeves folded up neatly, hands in his pockets.
Kemi noticed the pause. “Wait… that him?”
Emilia didn’t answer, just nodded.
Kemi raised her eyebrows. “Okay, I approve. That’s fine-fine.”
Emilia laughed under her breath. But her heart was already drumming a bit too fast.
Then Alex turned — and saw her.
There was a brief moment. Just a flash.
Recognition. Surprise. Something soft in his eyes.
He gave a small smile, the kind that wasn’t planned.
Emilia smiled back.
Kemi leaned in and whispered, “Girl, if you don’t go talk to him, I will.”
Emilia took a deep breath.
And started walking.
Just as she stepped forward, ready to greet him, the girl beside Alex touched his arm and leaned in close, whispering something into his ear.
And Alex… laughed.
A kind of laugh Emilia hadn’t heard from him before.
Something shifted in her chest.
She stopped walking.
And stood still, right there in the middle of the rooftop, wondering if she’d misread everything.
Kemi followed her gaze. “Wait… who’s that girl?”
“I don’t know,” Emilia murmured.
The girl was strikingly tall, confident, hair swept into a loose bun, wearing the kind of silk that said I belong here. Her hand still lingered near Alex’s sleeve, comfortable, like it wasn’t the first time. Alex said something back, softer now, and the girl laughed too, that easy, shared laughter that only came from people who already knew each other.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Kemi offered, gently. “Could be a cousin. A classmate. A random extrovert who thinks everyone is hers.”
But Emilia’s stomach was already curling into knots.
She tried to shake it off, but something about the scene in front of her made the room feel louder. Colours started blending too quickly. The soft red lights. The gold threads on the girl's blouse. The green in Alex’s drink. It all felt too much, like walking into a painting that didn’t want you.
“He didn’t mention her,” Emilia said quietly.
“He doesn’t owe you a biography,” Kemi replied, trying to keep things light. “You just met him.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Still, she didn’t move.
She watched Alex say goodbye to the girl with a smile, watched the girl touch his arm again before walking away.
Watched Alex turn around , looking slightly distracted now and glance at the crowd.
His eyes passed over Emilia once… then moved on.
Did he not recognise her? Was the lighting bad? Or had she just imagined the look they shared earlier?
Kemi nudged her, but Emilia stepped back, half a pace, then another.
“I… need air,” she said under her breath.
“You’re already outside.”
“I know. I just—”
She didn’t finish.
She turned away from the rooftop lights and slipped past the crowd, dodging paint-splattered jackets and polite conversations until she reached the stairwell. The noise dul
And stood still, right there in the middle of the rooftop, wondering if she’d misread everything.
- Writer
