chapter 8
1231 Words
Alvin leaned back, still watching him. “Sounds like fear talking.”
Honesty didn’t respond. His eyes settled on the condensation sliding down his glass, as if the answers were hidden there.
“You should try,” Alvin said softly. “Talk to her. See where it leads.”
Honesty didn’t lift his head, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the storm inside him.
For the first time that evening, he didn’t argue.
He simply sat there — quiet, thoughtful, and a little broken by the feelings he didn’t understand.
Honesty’s office was quiet that afternoon, the soft hum of his laptop the only sound in the room. He was focused, typing steadily, trying to keep his mind busy. Yet, despite the calmness, a faint tightness sat in his chest — the same feeling he always got when she was near.
A gentle knock came on the door.
Before he could respond, Vicky pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Thank you very much,” she said with a small, grateful smile.
Honesty looked up from his screen. “For what exactly?” he asked, returning her smile but trying to hide the warmth rising in him.
“For telling Zubby to accept me,” she replied. “I know it was you, so don’t deny it.”
Honesty laughed quietly, caught off guard. “Okay, okay… you caught me. It’s good you were hired though.”
Her smile widened. “Yeah, I love the job. And honestly, it’s all thanks to you.”
Honesty leaned back slightly, studying her face. There was something bright and effortless about her happiness — something he wished he could borrow. “It’s good you love it,” he said softly. “My mom just called me before you came in. I’m going to her place later.”
Vicky nodded. “Oh… okay. Can I say hi to her next time?”
Honesty’s surprise flickered only for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Either way, we’ll walk out together.”
Vicky’s expression softened, and for a split second, the room felt warmer — as if something unspoken lingered between them, something neither of them was brave enough to name yet.
Aminata was seated comfortably on the long couch in her living room, legs crossed, her attention fixed on her phone as she scrolled lazily through the screen. The quietness of the house made the soft tapping of her fingers even more noticeable.
The front door opened gently.
Honesty walked in with Vicky beside him.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, leaning down to place a light kiss on her forehead.
Aminata looked up, her expression softening. “Hi, son. Welcome.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Vicky greeted politely, “Good afternoon, ma.”
Aminata gave her a warm smile. “Welcome, dear.”
Honesty cleared his throat. “Mom, this is Vicky.”
Aminata raised her brows slightly, studying the girl. “Oh… you brought her here?” Her tone carried mild surprise.
Vicky quickly shook her head. “No ma, I’m not—”
“Yes, Mom,” Honesty interrupted gently. “She’s just a friend.”
Aminata kept her eyes on him. “Just a friend? Is that why I asked you to bring your date home today?”
“Mom, not today,” Honesty sighed. “Please. I have a guest.”
Aminata exhaled, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. I will be calm… only for today.”
“Thank you,” Honesty said under his breath. Then he called out, “Amaka! Amii!”
“Yes, sir!” Amaka appeared from the hallway.
“Ask her what she wants,” he instructed.
Amaka nodded respectfully. She approached Vicky with a small bow. “Ma, what can I offer you? Anything you’d like?”
Vicky and Zubby were already seated when Kelvin entered the office. The room fell silent for a moment, the air tightening with expectation. Kelvin shut the door behind him and walked toward them with calm confidence before lowering himself into the chair opposite theirs.
“Good morning, sir,” Vicky said, keeping her voice steady.
“Good morning,” Kelvin replied, his eyes shifting briefly to Zubby. “I believe he has explained everything to you.”
“Yes, sir, he has,” Vicky answered.
Kelvin clasped his hands together, studying her as though weighing her strength. “Good,” he said. “Now listen carefully.”
Vicky straightened, prepared.
“This… task you’re about to take on isn’t ordinary. It’s something you must win. Consider it a test—not just of your skills, but of your determination.”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“The disadvantage is simple,” Kelvin continued quietly. “If you fail, you lose your job. Completely.”
He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “But if you win… everything changes for you.”
Her breath caught slightly.
“You’ll receive fifty million, a car, a house, and a personal manager. A full upgrade to your life. All you have to do is succeed.”
Vicky felt her heartbeat thudding in her chest. The stakes were terrifying—yet the opportunity was undeniable. She lowered her gaze for a moment, thinking, then raised her eyes to meet Kelvin’s.
“I’m up for it,” she said softly but firmly.
Kelvin’s lips curved into a slow, approving smile. He extended his hand across the desk.
“Welcome to my industry, Vicky.”
She reached out and shook his hand—her palm warm, her future uncertain, but her resolve unshaken.
The hall of the Shalom Fashion Show buzzed with excitement. The red carpet gleamed beneath the lights, and the entire audience strained forward the moment Vicky appeared. Cameras flashed, voices rose, and the crowd practically erupted.
“Vicky! Vicky! Vicky!” they chanted, their enthusiasm filling every corner of the hall.
The Director stepped onto the stage, lifting his hand to calm them.
“Everyone, please… settle down,” he said with a smile. “We know you’re excited. Now—it’s time to choose. Among our three contestants, who do you want as the winner?”
The crowd didn’t hesitate.
“VICKY!”
“She’s our winner!”
“We want Vicky!”
The Director laughed softly. “Thank you. Honestly, from the beginning, we all knew she had something special. And now you’ve made it official—Vicky is our number one.”
The audience cheered louder.
“As for the remaining contestants,” he added, “one is second, the other is third. But tonight… tonight belongs to Vicky.”
The producer joined him, nodding proudly. “Miss Vicky, please come forward.”
Vicky stepped toward them, completely overwhelmed. Her hands trembled as she walked onto the stage. She had never heard a crowd scream her name with so much love.
“Vicky,” the Director said warmly, handing her the trophy, “welcome to our world.”
Vicky blinked back tears. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered—then the emotion broke through and she began to cry quietly.
The producer’s face softened. “Oh, she’s crying. Come here.”
Vicky stepped into her arms, and the producer hugged her tightly. The audience cheered again as Vicky lifted the trophy, her tears shining under the lights.
She had won.
She truly had.
- Writer
