Stitches of Fate

The sun hung low in the Lagos sky, casting a warm golden hue over the bustling city as Simi stood backstage at the prestigious fashion show. The air buzzed with excitement, a palpable energy that coursed through her veins. Models flitted about like butterflies in vibrant outfits, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic beats of music echoing from the main stage. This was her moment—the culmination of countless hours spent sketching, sewing, and dreaming.

But beneath the surface of her excitement lay a nagging worry. Just last night, Gbolahan had received a call from one of his business associates that left him pale and shaken. She had tried to dismiss it, focusing instead on the collection she was about to unveil to an audience of industry insiders, critics, and fashion enthusiasts.

Simi adjusted her outfit—a sleek black dress that hugged her curves just right—and took a deep breath to calm the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The sounds of chatter and laughter echoed from the audience beyond the curtain, mingling with the upbeat music that pulsed through the venue. It was a familiar melody that made her heart race; it reminded her of why she loved fashion in the first place.

"Are you ready?" Dami's voice broke through her thoughts. He appeared beside her, his ensemble sharp and stylish, radiating confidence. Dami had been her confidant and collaborator throughout this journey, grounding her when self-doubt crept in.

"I think so," Simi replied, forcing a smile as she met his gaze. "I just hope everyone likes it."

"They will," Dami assured her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You've poured your heart into this collection. Just remember to breathe and enjoy it."

As the lights dimmed slightly, signalling that the show was about to begin, Simi felt a rush of adrenaline. She peeked through the curtain to catch a glimpse of the audience—an eclectic mix of faces illuminated by flashing cameras and bright lights. The front row was filled with influential figures in fashion—designers, critics, and celebrities—all eagerly awaiting the spectacle.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her attention away from the moment. She fished it out and saw Gbolahan's name flashing on the screen. A wave of unease washed over her; he rarely called unless it was urgent.

"Dami, I need to take this," she said quickly, stepping away from him as she answered the call.

"Simi! You need to come home now," Gbolahan's voice was urgent, cutting through the applause that had begun to swell outside.

"What's wrong?" Simi asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising panic in her chest.

"There's been an incident," he replied tersely. "I can't explain right now. Just come home."

Her heart sank as dread settled in; Gbolahan's tone left no room for negotiation. "I'm at the fashion show right now," she protested weakly. "It's starting any minute!"

"Your family comes first," he snapped before hanging up.

Simi stood frozen for a moment, staring at her phone in disbelief. The applause from the audience felt distant now, overshadowed by a growing sense of dread. She had worked so hard for this moment—this show meant everything to her—but now it felt like everything was slipping away.

"Everything okay?" Dami asked as he approached again.

"No," Simi replied shakily, her smile faltering. "I have to go home."

"Now? But your collection—" Dami started but stopped when he saw the look on her face.

"It's my dad," she said quietly. "He said there's been an incident."

Dami's expression shifted from confusion to concern. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," Simi said firmly, though part of her longed for his support. "I need to handle this myself."

"Okay," Dami replied reluctantly, his eyes filled with worry. "Just… be careful."

Simi nodded, forcing herself to smile one last time before turning away from him. As she made her way through the backstage area—the vibrant colours blurring around her—she felt like she was moving through water.

Once outside, Simi hailed a cab and gave the driver their address with trembling hands. The ride felt agonizingly long; each minute stretched into eternity as she replayed Gbolahan's words in her mind: incident, dangerous—what could have happened? Was anyone hurt?

Arriving home, Simi rushed inside to find Gbolahan pacing anxiously in the living room. His usual composed demeanour was shattered by an urgency that made Simi's stomach churn.

"What happened?" she demanded as soon as she entered.

Gbolahan turned sharply at the sound of her voice, his expression grave. "We need to talk."

Simi felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she followed him into the living room. "Is it about your business dealings?" she asked cautiously, fear creeping into her voice.

"Yes," he replied curtly, sitting down on the edge of his chair. "But more importantly, it involves our family."

Simi's heart raced; every instinct told her this conversation would change everything. "What do you mean?"

"There are people who are unhappy with me—men I've done business with," Gbolahan admitted, frustration lacing his tone. "They're not just angry; they're dangerous."

"What did you do?" Simi pressed, fighting against disbelief mixed with concern.

"I thought I could manage it without involving you or your mother," he said defensively, irritation flashing across his face. "But now they're making threats."

Simi felt a wave of betrayal wash over her; how could he keep something like this from them? "You should have told us!" she exclaimed, fighting against tears threatening to spill over once again.

"I didn't want to worry you!" Gbolahan shot back, his voice rising slightly.

"But you can't!" Simi argued fiercely. "This isn't just about you anymore!"

Gbolahan stood abruptly, fury and disbelief etched across his features. "You don't understand how these things work!"

"No! You don't understand how this affects us!" Simi retorted fiercely.

Just then, Temi appeared at the doorway, her small frame silhouetted against the light behind her. "What's wrong?" she asked innocently, eyes darting between them.

Simi quickly wiped away tears before kneeling beside Temi. "Nothing sweetie; just grown-up stuff." But Temi wasn't convinced; she looked up at Gbolahan with wide eyes filled with concern.

"Daddy? Are we safe?"

Gbolahan knelt beside Temi; a softer expression crossed his face as he brushed a hand through her hair. "Of course we are, my love."

Simi watched as Gbolahan shifted gears effortlessly when it came to Temi; moments like these reminded Simi why she loved him despite everything else happening around them.

But as soon as Temi returned to playing with her toys, Simi turned back toward Gbolahan with renewed determination. "We need to figure this out together," she said firmly. "You can't handle this alone anymore."

Gbolahan looked up at her; appreciation shone in his eyes despite their earlier conflict. "You're right," he admitted quietly.

As they began discussing potential strategies—how to address threats without escalating tensions—Simi felt a sense of unity forming between them once more amidst all this chaos surrounding them right now. In that moment, Simi realized that despite their differences and conflicts together they could navigate whatever storm lay ahead—if only they were willing to confront their fears head-on.