Not The Man I Came For

Chapter One: The Invitation The dress had been hanging in the back of Nadia's closet for three months, waiting for an occasion worthy of it. It was a deep burgundy wrap dress with a modest neckline and a cinched waist that she had designed herself—one of the few pieces she had made entirely for her own pleasure, not for the portfolio her boss would inevitably claim as his own. She pulled it out now, holding it against her body as she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. Too formal? She tilted her head, imagining Colton's face when he saw her. Or not formal enough? The thought made her stomach flutter, and she pressed her palm against it as if she could physically calm the butterflies. This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, not a teenager with a crush. She had spent years building a professional reputation, navigating the treacherous waters of Abuja's fashion industry, learning to smile through meetings where her designs were presented as someone else's work. And yet here she was, giddy as a schoolgirl because Colton had called her two weeks ago and said, "I need you to come home with me. There's something important I want to ask you." He hadn't elaborated. He never did. Colton had a way of making declarations that sounded monumental and then moving on to discuss dinner plans or the traffic on Airport Road, leaving Nadia to dissect every word for hidden meanings. Something important. She had replayed those two words more times than she cared to admit. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she glanced at the screen. Maya's name flashed across it. "You better not be packing that burgundy dress," Maya said the moment Nadia answered, skipping any greeting. Nadia's eyes darted guiltily to the dress in question. "What's wrong with the burgundy dress?" "Nothing's wrong with it. That's the problem." Maya's voice carried the particular exasperation she reserved for Nadia's romantic decisions. "You wear that dress, and he'll know you're trying to impress him. You might as well show up with a sign that says 'I've been in love with you for years.'" "I'm not—" Nadia stopped, pressing her lips together. "I'm not trying to impress anyone. I just like the dress." "Mm-hmm." "I do." "Nadia." "It's a nice dress!" "It's a gorgeous dress," Maya agreed. "Which is exactly why you shouldn't wear it. You're supposed to be going as his friend, remember? His buddy. One of the guys." The words landed with a small, sharp sting, the way they always did when someone reminded Nadia of her actual position in Colton's life. She sat down on the edge of her bed, the dress pooling in her lap like spilled wine. "I know," she said quietly. Maya was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice had softened. "I'm not trying to be harsh. You know I love you. I just don't want you to get hurt." "I know." "Besides," Maya continued, the lightness returning to her tone, "if he's going to propose, he should be the one nervous about impressing you. Not the other way around." The word propose hung in the air between them, electric and terrifying. Nadia hadn't said it out loud. Not to Maya, not to Zara, not even to herself in the quiet moments before sleep when her mind wandered to dangerous places. She had only told them what Colton had said: that he wanted her to come home with him, that he had something important to ask her. But the way he had said it—his voice lower than usual, almost careful—had sparked something in her chest that she couldn't quite extinguish. What if? It was the most dangerous question in the world, and Nadia had been asking it for two weeks straight. "I should finish packing," she said, standing up and smoothing the dress over her arm. "My flight leaves at six." "Zara and I are coming to see you off." "Maya, that's not necessary—" "We're already in the car." Nadia closed her eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "Of course you are." --- Zara arrived first, bursting through Nadia's apartment door with the kind of energy that made small spaces feel larger. She was wearing bright orange—a colour that would have looked garish on anyone else but somehow worked on her warm brown skin—and her braids were piled on top of her head in a messy bun that probably took an hour to perfect. "Show me the dress," she demanded, dropping onto Nadia's couch and crossing her legs. "You're supposed to say hello first." "Hello. Show me the dress." Nadia retrieved the burgundy dress from her suitcase and held it up. Zara studied it for a long moment, her head tilted to the side. "It's beautiful," she said finally. "You're not wearing it." "Thank you. And yes, I am." "Nadia." "Why does everyone keep saying my name like that?" Zara stood and crossed the room, taking the dress from Nadia's hands and hanging it back in the closet. She selected a different piece instead—a simple navy sundress with a floral print, casual but flattering. "This one," she said. "You look beautiful in this one too, but it doesn't scream 'I've been planning this moment for years.'" "I haven't been planning—" "You have a Pinterest board called 'Maybe Someday.' I've seen it." Nadia opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. There was no point. Zara and Maya had known her too long, had witnessed too many late-night conversations and too many carefully casual mentions of Colton's name. They saw through her with an ease that was both comforting and mortifying. Maya arrived ten minutes later, carrying coffee for all three of them and wearing the expression of someone who had already planned an exit strategy for every possible disaster. "I brought snacks for the drive to the airport," she announced, setting the tray on Nadia's kitchen counter. "And I want to know exactly what he said. Word for word." "I already told you—" "Tell me again." Nadia sighed, accepting the coffee Maya handed her. "He called two weeks ago. He said he was going to his hometown for a few days and wanted me to come with him. He said there was something important he wanted to ask me." "Ask you," Maya repeated. "Not tell you. Ask you." "Yes." "Interesting word choice." Nadia's cheeks warmed. "You're reading too much into it." "Am I? Because there's a ring in your future, or there's a pyramid scheme in your future. Those are the only two options with that kind of phrasing." Zara laughed, nearly choking on her coffee. "Maya, you're terrible." "I'm practical. There's a difference." Nadia shook her head, but she couldn't quite suppress her smile. This was why she loved them—why she had kept them close through years of career disappointments and romantic near-misses. They made her feel like the world wasn't quite so heavy. Even when they were being impossible. "I should finish packing," she said, glancing at the time. "I don't want to be late." She moved through her apartment with the efficiency of someone used to meeting deadlines, checking her luggage twice, reviewing her travel documents, making sure she had everything she needed. Her hands were steady, but her mind was elsewhere—in a small town she had never visited, in a conversation that hadn't happened yet, in the possibility of a future she had been too afraid to name. Three years. Three years of friendship, of inside jokes and late-night calls, of Colton appearing in her life when she least expected it and somehow making everything feel better. Three years of pretending that her heart didn't skip when he said her name, of convincing herself that friendship was enough, of watching him date other women and smiling through it because his happiness mattered more than her own. And now this. Something important. She zipped her suitcase and set it by the door. "You look nervous," Zara observed from the couch. "You're doing that thing where you check your phone every five seconds." "I'm not—" Nadia glanced down at her phone, which she had indeed been checking obsessively. "I'm just making sure there are no flight delays." "Uh-huh." "There's supposed to be weather coming in." "Nadia." Zara's voice was gentler now, the teasing edge gone. "It's okay to be excited. It's okay to hope for something good." Nadia met her friend's eyes and felt something loosen in her chest. "What if I'm wrong? What if I'm reading everything wrong and he just wants to ask me about... I don't know, his retirement plan?" "Then you'll handle it. You always do." "That's not reassuring." "It wasn't supposed to be." Zara smiled. "It was supposed to be true." --- The conversation shifted after that, moving to safer topics: Maya's ongoing battle with her landlord, Zara's latest romantic disaster, the new collection that Nadia had been secretly working on in the quiet hours between assignments. "That's the one you should show the head of the company," Maya said, her tone sharpening with the edge of a familiar argument. "Not the designs your boss keeps stealing." Nadia's grip tightened on her coffee cup. "We've talked about this." "We have. And you keep making the same decision." "It's not that simple." "It is that simple. He's taking credit for your work. He's been doing it for two years. And you're just—" "Letting it happen?" Nadia's voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it. "I'm aware." "Then why?" Because I'm afraid. The words sat in Nadia's throat, unspoken but present. She was afraid of losing everything she had worked for—the connections, the opportunities, the fragile foothold she had established in an industry that seemed designed to shut people like her out. She was afraid that if she spoke up, she would be branded difficult, ungrateful, a problem to be managed rather than an artist to be respected. She was afraid of being told that she didn't belong. Her boss, Mr. Adeyemi, had been with the company for fifteen years. He knew everyone, had connections Nadia couldn't dream of, could make a single phone call and destroy her career before it had truly begun. She had watched him do it to others—talented young designers who had made the mistake of challenging him, of insisting on recognition for their work. They had all disappeared. Their names no longer appeared in industry publications. Their portfolios sat dormant, gathering dust. Nadia couldn't afford to be one of them. "It's not forever," she said finally, meeting Maya's eyes. "I'm building something. And when I'm ready, when I have enough leverage—" "You've been saying that for two years." "I know." "At some point, Nadia, you have to stop waiting for permission to claim what's yours." The words hit harder than Maya probably intended. Nadia turned away, busying herself with her luggage, pretending the conversation hadn't burrowed under her skin. Because Maya was right. She knew Maya was right. But knowing and doing were different things, and Nadia had spent too long learning the difference. --- The airport was crowded when they arrived—thunderstorms in the forecast had grounded flights and frayed tempers, and the departure hall buzzed with anxious energy. Nadia checked her flight status three times before she was willing to believe it hadn't been cancelled. "Still on time?" Maya asked. "So far." They stood together near the security checkpoint, the moment of departure looming. Nadia's suitcase was heavy in her hand, her carry-on slung over one shoulder, her heart somewhere in her throat. "Call us when you land," Zara said, pulling her into a hug. "And text us when he proposes." "Zara—" "I'm joking. Mostly." She pulled back, grinning. "But if he doesn't propose, we're going to have a very long conversation about why he dragged you to his hometown for no reason." "Maybe he just wants me to see where he grew up." "Maybe," Maya said, her tone suggesting she didn't believe it for a second. She stepped forward and hugged Nadia tightly, her voice dropping low. "Be careful, okay? Whatever happens, you come home." "I will." "Promise me." "I promise." Maya released her, and Nadia saw something in her friend's eyes—a flicker of worry, quickly hidden. Maya had always been protective, always the first to sense danger, but this felt different. This felt like a premonition. "You're being weird," Nadia said. "I'm always weird." "True." They shared a smile, and then Nadia was moving toward security, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear that she couldn't quite untangle. This is it, she thought. Whatever happens next, nothing will be the same. She didn't know how right she was. --- The flight was short, barely an hour, but Nadia spent every minute of it staring out the window at the gathering clouds. The storm that had been threatening all day was finally rolling in, dark and heavy, casting shadows across the landscape below. She thought about Colton. She thought about the first time they met, at a networking event she had almost skipped because she was too tired and too discouraged to pretend she was having a good time. He had appeared beside her at the bar, ordered two drinks, and handed her one without asking if she wanted it. "You looked like you needed this," he had said, and something in his smile had made her stay. She thought about the night he had found her crying in her car after Mr. Adeyemi had presented her designs as his own in front of the entire leadership team. Colton had been driving past, had seen her, had pulled over without hesitation. "What happened?" he had asked, and when she couldn't answer, he had simply sat with her in the dark until the tears stopped. He had never asked for details. He had never demanded explanations. He had just been there, solid and steady, a reminder that she wasn't alone. That's why, she thought. That's why I love him. Because he had seen her at her worst and hadn't looked away. Because he believed in her work even when she didn't. Because he made her feel like she mattered. The plane touched down, and Nadia's heart lurched into her throat. She gathered her things, walked through the small terminal, and stepped outside to find him waiting. Colton stood beside his car, tall and familiar, his face breaking into a grin when he saw her. He crossed the distance between them in a few long strides and pulled her into a hug that felt like coming home. "You made it," he said. "I was worried the storm would delay your flight." "I made it." He held her at arm's length, studying her face. "You look beautiful." The words were casual, the kind of compliment he offered without thinking. But Nadia felt them anyway, felt them settle into her bones like a promise. "Thanks," she said, and hoped he couldn't hear the tremor in her voice. "Come on." He took her bag and led her toward the car. "There's a lot we need to talk about." Something important. Nadia followed him, her heart full of hope, her future spread out before her like an unwritten story. She had no idea that the story was about to take a turn she never saw coming. -- End of Chapter One