Off Camera
1332 Words
The energy shifted the moment the cameras stopped. Lights dimmed. Voices lowered. Smiles relaxed into something more real—or disappeared entirely.
“Thank you again,” Ronke said, walking beside me as we stepped out of the studio.
“You made that easy,” I replied.
“That’s because you are easy,” she said with a laugh. “Professional. We like that.”
I smiled politely.
A producer joined us halfway down the hallway, exchanging a few final words about scheduling and future appearances. It all blurred into the same language—we’ll be in touch, this was great, let’s do this again.
Standard.
By the time we reached the entrance to the parking lot, I was already done with it. Tolu was leaning against the car, phone in hand. He straightened immediately when he saw me.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Always.”
We said our goodbyes quickly. No lingering. No extra conversations.
I turned toward the car, only to be stopped by a familiar voice behind me.
“Hi, Best New Artist.”
I closed my eyes briefly. Here we go again.
I turned back slowly. Gloria stood a few steps away, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“Tolu,” I said without looking at him, “give me a minute.”
He hesitated. Then nodded and stepped back.
Good.
I faced her fully. “Gloria.”
Her smile widened slightly. “Congratulations. Again.”
“Thank you.”
Silence sat between us for a second too long. She tilted her head, studying me like she was trying to figure something out.
“I think you can get off Tom’s neck now,” she said finally, her tone light. Casual. Too casual.
I blinked once. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve done well,” she continued, gesturing vaguely. “Award, recognition… all of that. So maybe—just maybe—you can give him some space.”
I let out a small breath, more amused than anything else.
“I’m not sure I understand what you think is happening.”
Her smile didn’t shift. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you don’t know.”
I studied her for a moment. Then shook my head slightly.
“If this is about work, talk to him,” I said. “He’s your CEO.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
There it was.
I folded my arms. “Then say it properly.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“You think nobody’s good enough for him,” she said. “You hover. You interfere. And somehow, every time I try to get through to him—nothing.”
I almost laughed.
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“Really?” she said softly.
“Yes, really.”
She took a step closer—not aggressive, just deliberate.
“You expect me to believe that?” she asked. “That you have no influence over him at all?”
“I don’t control him,” I said. “He makes his own decisions.”
“And yet,” she said, her voice dipping slightly, “he always seems to choose you.”
That landed. I didn’t let it show.
“Maybe that says more about your timing than it does about me,” I replied.
Her lips curved. Not quite a smile.
“You’re still a child,” she said. “You just have better lighting now.”
I let out a short laugh. “And you’re still confusing access with importance.”
Something flickered in her eyes—sharp, quick.
Good.
She recovered just as fast.
“You’ve made a name for yourself,” she continued. “That’s good. Truly. But you should learn to separate your life from his.”
I tilted my head slightly. “You seem very invested in a situation you claim I’m controlling.”
“I’m invested in clarity,” she said.
“No,” I replied calmly. “You’re invested in him.”
That one hit. She didn’t deny it.
Instead, she exhaled softly, like she’d reached the part she actually came for.
“You think you’re protecting him,” she said. “Or maybe you think he needs you.”
I didn’t respond.
“You don’t see it, do you?” she continued.
“See what?”
Her gaze held mine.
“He’s still in pain because of you,” she said quietly.
For a second, the noise of the parking lot seemed to dull around me. Not disappear. Just… pull farther away.
I stared at her, trying to fit the sentence into something that made sense.
Pain? Because of me?
My expression must have shifted slightly because Gloria’s gaze sharpened almost immediately, like she’d finally managed to c***k something open.
“There it is,” she said softly.
I frowned. “You’re talking like I did something to him.”
“Haven’t you?” she replied.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
Her eyes searched mine for a moment longer than necessary. Not angry now. Worse. Certain.
“You really don’t know,” she murmured.
Something cold settled quietly beneath my ribs.
I folded my arms tighter. “Then explain it.”
But Gloria just shook her head slowly.
“No,” she said. “That’s not my place.”
I almost laughed at that. Almost.
“You came over here to start this conversation.”
“I came over here because someone needed to say it.” Her voice stayed calm. “You walk around him like none of it cost him anything.”
The words hit strangely—not because I understood them, but because some part of me reacted before my mind caught up.
“That’s not fair,” I said before I could stop myself.
Gloria noticed that too.
“Fair?” she echoed quietly. “You think any of this has ever been fair?”
A horn sounded somewhere farther down the road. Crew members moved around us, carrying equipment, talking loudly, while the conversation settled into something heavier.
I drew in a slow breath. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No,” Gloria said. “I think you’ve just spent so long being protected from the truth that you stopped noticing there was one.”
That stung. Not because I believed her. Because I didn’t know if I should.
Her expression softened slightly then, which somehow felt worse than the sharpness.
“You should ask him someday,” she said quietly. “If he’s honest enough to answer.” Then she stepped back.
The sentence hung there between us. Wrong. Completely wrong.
I frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”
She didn’t answer. Just watched me. When I didn’t react the way she wanted, she gave a small, almost disappointed nod.
“Exactly,” she murmured. “I thought so.”
And just like that—she was done.
She turned and walked away, heels clicking softly against the pavement, leaving the sentence behind like it belonged to me now.
“Muna?” Tolu’s voice cut through the silence.
I blinked. Right. I was still standing there.
“I’m coming,” I said.
I walked toward the car, each step steady, controlled. Normal. Like nothing had happened. Tolu opened the door for me, watching my face a little too closely.
I slid in without a word. He got in on the other side, glancing at me through the rearview mirror as the car pulled out.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing relevant,” I said. My voice was even. Flat. The words came easily. They didn’t feel true.
Tolu watched me for another second like he knew better, but he let it go.
Good.
I turned my head toward the window, watching the city move again—fast, blurred, distant. But her voice didn’t fade with it.
He’s still in pain because of you.
I swallowed once. Then looked away.
- Writer
