Chapter1
1169 Words
The air-conditioned ballroom of the event hall is a symphony of white and gold, a stark contrast to the sweltering Abuja evening. Sarah Ighodaro admires the extravagance of the party. She has seen it on social media, but being in the room truly convinces her. Nigerians like any excuse for a party. The event is a sea of suits and designer dresses, a congregation of Abuja's elite.
Sarah has a faint memory of these gatherings from before her parents' accident. She used to be the prized handbag of her grandmother at countless charity balls and business dinners. She can hardly remember what any of the events were for, and her grandmother has long since retired.
She stands watching her best friend from the corner of the room, right next to the bar. Aisha is a vision in a beautiful emerald green dress with olive skin. Her weave bounces easily off her back as her infectious laugh fills the air while she shares conversations with dignitaries. She is the star of the show, about to be awarded Journalist of the Year. Sarah is so proud of her.
Sarah and Aisha have been friends since their university days. Despite Aisha moving back to the home country and Sarah continuing in the UK, the two have been as thick as the distance would allow. Aisha is the first to know when Sarah works up the stiff intention to move back to Nigeria, despite her grandmother’s constant distaste for this decision.
She has just signed the deal for an apartment. Aisha refuses to let her settle into a hotel until she has worked out her living conditions. It's like their school days again in Aisha’s apartment. Her grandmother has asked her to at least come home to live, but Sarah envisions being locked up at home. Her grandma is crafty like that.
It's been a testing few weeks since she got back. She’s visited the corporation that offered her a job, worked out banking, and transitioned her telecommunications.
This party is Aisha’s white flag of surrender, but Sarah doesn’t need much convincing to come along and see her friend shine as the star that she is.
The energy in the room is palpable. Perhaps it's the anticipation of Aisha's win, or maybe her body is finally accepting the rest after running around the city for days on end.
From her vantage point at the edge of the room, a man enters through the door behind the crowd. His well-tailored suit fits his skin perfectly, and the way he carries himself speaks of someone important. He crouches as much as his tall frame allows. Another man walks beside him. They talk in low tones, the first man seeming to plead with the other in what looks like a practiced friendship trap. The other man glares playfully before walking towards the front of the room. Sarah laughs, recognizing the pattern she and Aisha also share. He chuckles and heads toward the bar, his eyes fixed on the stage.
The MC announces, “We are to receive a few words from everyone’s favorite attorney and one of the fore beneficiaries of our company, John Daramola…” Someone whispers in his ear on stage. “It seems we will be getting his representative, business partner, and friend, Isaiah Onoja…”
The other man walks onto the stage with a smile that tells Sarah he has done this many times before. He begins speaking.
John is now within earshot. Sarah speaks, “Stage fright?”
John’s guarded eyes turn to her. He sees the playful smile in her eyes above her champagne glass and engages in small talk for the first time in a while.
He chuckles, “More like running from the attention. Could say the same for you.” His voice is low and smooth. He raises a brow at her being at the back of the room.
She laughs, “The way I see it, I am not the center of attention; you all are the center of mine.” His eyes remain trained on her as she speaks, and hers on him. A noiseless bubble almost wraps around their figures despite the loud room. Sarah shakes it off and looks toward the stage. He does the same.
His friend Isaiah waits as the winner of the award is announced. Sarah sets her glass down on the bar and claps as Aisha climbs the stage. Isaiah presents her with the award and a bouquet. They take a picture and share a few words. Sarah watches Aisha's eyes search the room and waves her hand in the air. Aisha catches it and blows her a kiss from the stage before walking into the ovation of the attendees.
"You're Aisha's friend?" John asks.
Sarah laughs. "Guilty as charged. Best friend since diapers."
“She always attributes her successes and major decisions to the support of an unseen friend.”
Sarah’s eyes twinkle mischievously, “Guess I have come out of hiding.” John laughs, shaking his head. He doesn’t make a move to leave the table, and neither does she. Both their friends are swarmed with small talk.
They talk about everything and nothing, their conversation bouncing from the absurdity of the award speeches to the challenges of living in Abuja. There's a shared wit, a cynical amusement at the world's absurdities that connects them instantly.
"Maybe at another time, we could have been friends," Sarah muses, her voice barely audible over the background music.
John raises an eyebrow. "Or something more," he replies, his gaze steady.
Sarah blushes, taken aback by his directness. She looks away, her mind racing. There is an undeniable attraction, a spark that threatens to ignite into something more. The bubble is there again. She has a life to work on and prove herself to her grandmother; she has no time for an attraction that seems somewhat meant to be.
When she looks at him, he seems to share the same sentiment. His speech is direct, but he holds back from getting closer to her.
An idea pops and dances around in her head.
"Maybe," she whispers. “Want to get out of here?”
He looks at her, still holding back.
She smirks, deciding to pull him out of the dilemma her question has put him in. “Just for today.”
He chuckles, “That’s very challenging.”
She shrugs.
Aisha finds them, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. "You two seem to be getting along." She turns to Sarah, “I’ve been invited to another event," she announces. "Meet you at home?"
John answers for her, “Maybe not today.”
Aisha’s smile swells even larger if that’s possible. She nods in understanding and blows Sarah more kisses as she walks back into the crowd. Sarah laughs in her wake.
Sarah feels a surge of adrenaline. This is impulsive, reckless even. But in this moment, nothing else matters.
"So, where to?" John asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.
- Writer
