How it all began
975 Words
How it all began
**Chapter 5**
Blair sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her faded T-shirt. The apartment was quiet except for the distant hum of Lagos traffic outside and the occasional creak of the ceiling fan above her.
Her grandmother’s old radio, resting on the nightstand, played softly — a gospel hymn in the background, one her grandmother used to hum while cooking. It should have brought her comfort, but instead, it only reminded her of everything at stake.
The email sat open on her phone, as though the glowing screen might change if she stared at it long enough.
> *Miss Rodrigo, you are invited to a final interview at Roland’s Fashion World. Please report directly to the CEO’s office at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow.*
She read it for the tenth time.
Final interview. Directly to the CEO’s office.
Her stomach churned. It wasn’t normal. Usually, you went through a panel, maybe an HR representative — not straight to the man whose name was stamped on every label in the building.
She pushed the phone away, trying to convince herself it was nothing, just… company procedure. But the knot in her chest refused to untangle.
On the table by the window, her grandmother’s hospital bills were stacked neatly — or rather, as neatly as overdue papers could be. She could barely look at them without feeling like they were silently counting down the days.
Her younger brother’s case was a separate stack altogether, tucked inside a brown envelope. She had promised him — promised — she would find a way to get him out. But between legal fees and the hospital bills, her income from occasional tailoring jobs barely scratched the surface.
A steady job at Roland’s Fashion World could change everything.
Her eyes drifted to the far corner of the room, where a dress form stood draped in half-finished fabric. It was the same shimmering design she had submitted for the interview — the one she’d worked on for weeks, stitching through sleepless nights, the thread biting into her fingers until they bled. She had poured herself into that dress.
But she hadn’t expected *him*.
The memory of their encounter weeks ago — the umbrella, the splashing mud, and the slap — replayed in her mind. She hadn’t regretted standing up for herself, but she also hadn’t considered that fate might throw him back into her path.
The thought of walking into his office made her throat tighten. Would he even give her a fair chance? Or was this just some elaborate setup to humiliate her before tossing her out?
A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts.
“Blair?” It was her friend and neighbor, Clara, stepping inside with a paper bag in hand. “I brought you some bread from the bakery. Fresh. And… well, I heard about the interview.”
Blair managed a small smile. “Thanks.”
Clara sat on the bed beside her, handing her the warm loaf. “So, what’s the plan? Are you going?”
“I don’t have a choice,” Blair admitted. “It’s the best opportunity I’ve had in months.”
“Hmm,” Clara said, eyeing her. “You’re not telling me something.”
Blair hesitated. She had never told Clara about the slap incident, partly out of embarrassment, partly because it sounded ridiculous when spoken aloud.
“Let’s just say,” Blair said carefully, “me and the CEO… we’ve crossed paths before. And it wasn’t exactly… pleasant.”
Clara raised a brow. “Oh?”
Blair gave her the shortest version possible, leaving out the slap, the insults, and the exact details. Clara still looked stunned.
“Well,” she finally said, “maybe this is a good thing. Maybe he saw your work and decided it’s too good to pass up.”
“Or maybe he just wants to see me sweat,” Blair muttered.
Clara leaned forward, her tone firm. “Listen to me. Don’t let him see you scared. Walk in there like you own the place. Remember, they called you. That means you’ve already impressed them.”
Blair nodded, though her heart still felt heavy.
Later that night, she laid out her clothes for the morning — a crisp white blouse, black trousers, and the simple black heels she wore only for special occasions. She checked for loose threads, ironed every crease, and polished the shoes until she could see her reflection.
She wasn’t going to walk into that office looking like someone desperate for a favor. She would walk in as Blair Rodrigo — a designer who knew her worth.
Still, as she climbed into bed, sleep refused to come.
Her thoughts spiraled — her grandmother lying in a hospital bed, her brother’s tired face behind the glass during visitation, the cold look in Roland Wyatt’s eyes the last time they’d met. She wondered if tomorrow would be the turning point she needed… or the moment everything finally collapsed.
She only knew one thing for certain: she couldn’t afford to lose.
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Morning came too soon.
The city was already alive with the sound of honking cars and street vendors calling out their wares. Blair moved quickly, pinning her hair into a neat bun, touching up her light makeup, and slipping into her carefully chosen outfit.
As she stood in front of the mirror, she took one last deep breath. *It’s just an interview,* she told herself. *Go. Impress them. Get the job.*
But deep down, she felt it — an undercurrent of something else entirely. Something she couldn’t name, but could sense waiting for her on the other side of those glass office doors.
She grabbed her portfolio and headed out, the weight of her future sitting heavy in her hands.
- Writer
