Simi my love

Chapter 8: The challenge

Six months into dating Damilola, Simi discovered that happiness had apparently attracted

chaos.

It started small. A minor bug in one of their company's marketing campaigns that somehow

cost them a client. Then a disagreement with Damilola about where to spend Christmas.

Then his ex-girlfriend showed up at a restaurant where they were having dinner.

"Oh my God, Damilola! I didn't know you'd be here!" The woman was tall, impossibly thin,

with weave that probably cost more than Simi's car. She was acting like Simi didn't exist.

Damilola's jaw tightened. "Funmi. Hello."

"I've been thinking about you," Funmi said, ignoring Simi's presence entirely. "We should

catch up. Properly. Remember when we used to go to that place in Ikoyi? I went there last

week and thought of you."

"I'm on a date," Damilola said coolly.

"Oh!" Funmi finally looked at Simi, and her smile turned mean. "Is this the girl from the

compound? I heard about that. So brave of you to date someone from such a... different

background."

Simi's hands clenched under the table, but she didn't say anything. She wouldn't give this

woman the satisfaction.

"This conversation is over," Damilola said, pulling out his wallet and placing cash on the

table. "Let's go, Simi."

In the car, Simi was quiet.

"That was—" Damilola started.

"Your ex-girlfriend," Simi finished. "I understood. And for the record, she's not as pretty as

her weave. That's like 70% of her appeal right there."

Damilola laughed, but it was strained. "She's nothing. Don't let her get to you."

But she had gotten to her, and Simi knew it. Because what if Damilola eventually realized

that Funmi was right? What if Simi really was from a different background—not wealthy,

not well-connected, not part of his world? What if he eventually wanted someone more

suited to the kind of life he led?

These thoughts festered for days until they came to a head when Damilola suggested they

move in together.

"What?" Simi asked, sure she'd misheard.

"Move in with me. To the main house. I want to wake up to you every day."

"We live in the same compound."

"It's not the same. I want you with me. Not thirty meters away."

She should have said yes. It was romantic. It was what she wanted. Instead, she heard

herself say: "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because people will talk—"

"Let them talk."

"Because it's not practical—"

"It's completely practical."

"Because I'm not sure this is real!" The words burst out of her before she could stop them.

Damilola stared at her. "What?"

"This whole thing. Us. It feels like a dream, and I keep waiting for it to end. And then your

ex-girlfriend showed up looking like she belongs in your world and I realized that I don't. I

never will."

"Simi, that's not—"

"Your mother probably put pressure on you to settle down. You probably see me as a cute

distraction while you figure out what you actually want. And I'm trying to be okay with that

because when else am I going to date someone like you? When else am I going to feel

like I'm part of his world?"

"You are part of my world," Damilola said quietly. "You are my world. Simi, I'm in love with

you."

Simi's breath caught. He'd never said the words before.

"I made a vow five years ago that I wouldn't love anyone until I found the one. And I found

her. She's standing right in front of me, telling me she doesn't believe in me." He stepped

closer. "I don't need you to move into my house to prove anything to me. I don't need

grand gestures. I just need you to believe that this is real. That we are real."

"What if it stops being real?" she whispered.

"Then we work through it. Together." He took her face in his hands. "I love you, Simi. I

didn't make this decision lightly. I gave up a five-year vow for you. Do you think I did that

casually?"

She kissed him before he could say anything else, because she needed him to feel what

she was feeling—this overwhelming gratitude and terror and love all mixed together.

"I love you too," she said against his lips. "I'm sorry for freaking out."

"Don't apologize. Just trust me."

She didn't move into his house—not yet. But she did start leaving some clothes there. She

did stop running away from her feelings. And she did believe him, because Damilola was

many things, but he wasn't a liar.

The real test came when his business partner called a meeting about a potential

acquisition.

Simi was at work when Damilola called her down to his office. She found him with another

man—tall, expensive-looking, with the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Simi, this is Tunde. He's a potential investor in our company and my former business

partner."

Tunde extended his hand. "I heard a lot about you. Damilola's new marketing director?"

"Coordinator," Simi corrected gently.

"Right, coordinator. Still, impressive for someone so young." He was looking at her in a

way that made her very aware of the fact that she had no powerful family backing, no trust

fund, nothing but her salary and her wits.

"We're discussing a merger," Damilola said, and she could hear tension in his voice.

"Tunde's company has some good synergy with ours, but some of the terms are difficult."

"I'm sure you can work it out," Simi said brightly.

"Actually, Simi, I wanted your input on the marketing strategy for the merged company,"

Damilola said.

She spent the next two hours with Damilola and Tunde, going over campaign ideas and

brand integration. Somewhere in that time, she forgot to be intimidated. She forgot that

Tunde came from money and connections. She just worked—offering ideas, challenging

their assumptions, building something real.

When Tunde left, he actually complimented her. "You're good. Damilola's lucky to have

you on his team."

After he left, Damilola pulled her close. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being amazing. For reminding me why we're doing this together." He kissed the top of

her head. "I wanted you in that room because you're the best person for the job. Not

because you're my girlfriend. Because you're brilliant."

That weekend, she moved into his house.

It wasn't a dramatic move—just a few boxes of clothes and books that she didn't fit into the

gatehouse anyway. But it felt significant. It felt like choosing him. Choosing this.

Mama Kemi cried when she found out.

"I know it!" she exclaimed, pulling Simi into a hug. "I know from the first day that it would be

you! That girl, she go marry the landlord!"

"Mama, we're just living together—"

"Today you living together, tomorrow you planning wedding, next year you have baby. I

see it all!" She pulled back to look at Simi. "You make him happy. That's all I want for

Damilola. Someone to make him happy."

Simi had never thought of herself as the kind of person who could make anyone happy.

But looking at Damilola across the room, watching him smile at Mama Kemi's obvious matchmaking, she thought maybe she could be.

Maybe she already was.