The private car ride from the airport to the hotel in Victoria Island was silent, save for the hum of the city beyond the tinted windows. Bernice kept her eyes fixed on the passing streets, the familiar Lagos chaos unfolding outside yellow buses swerving, traders calling out, pedestrians weaving through traffic like seasoned dancers.
Her body was present, but her thoughts drifted to her mother.
The woman who had once told her, "You don't need the world's validation to shine. Just be excellent."
A single tear slid down Bernice's cheek.
She wiped it quickly, straightened up, and sat forward.
This wasn't a vacation. It was business. And maybe…just maybe, the beginning of a new version of herself.
At the Hotel Conference Room
Alexandra led the way into a sleek, glass-walled boardroom at the company's partner hotel. Everything about the space screamed wealth, polished marble floors, curated art, minimalist elegance. But the air was tense.
"You'll be speaking at today's meeting," Alexandra said curtly as he slid into one of the seats.
Bernice paused mid-step. "Sir?"
"You'll walk them through our brand's approach to sustainable fashion, and show them what you've designed, those sketches you sent in during the last strategy review."
"I… I wasn't expecting to—"
"You're not here to expect," he interrupted, his tone flat but sharp. "You're here because you're good. Don't prove me wrong."
Bernice nodded, steadying her breath.
"Yes, sir."
Before the Presentation
Back in her hotel room, Bernice paced. Her hands trembled slightly as she powered on her tablet. Thank God she'd uploaded most of her works during her portfolio-building phase. She wasn't dressed in the confidence she usually wore, but she still had her talent.
Her screen lit up with sketches clean lines, bold colors, culturally rooted pieces that could compete with the best across Africa.
She tapped through her folders, selecting six of her most innovative pieces. As she adjusted the layout for the slideshow, a notification banner slid down across the screen.
Tunde: "Baby please… I know I messed up, but don't let go of us. I love you."
Her heart skipped.
She stared at the message.
Alexandra's voice cut in sharply from behind her. "You need to focus."
She turned. He had come in quietly. Now he stood at the door, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"I wasn't—"
"I don't care," he said coldly. "I didn't fly you to Lagos to chase memories. We have a meeting in twenty minutes. Either you're here, or you're not."
Bernice swallowed hard. "I'm here, sir. 100 percent."
"Good," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Then prove it."
At the Lagos Fashion Week Office
The boardroom was filled with decision-makers stylists, event curators, PR heads, and journalists with cameras poised. Alexandra opened the meeting with his trademark smooth delivery, discussing the company's vision, the global relevance of African fashion, and the need for a strong female-led narrative on their team.
Then he turned to her.
Bernice rose.
She adjusted the mic, glanced at Alexandra who gave a tight nod, and then faced the room.
"My name is Bernice. I'm one of the lead creative designers at High Fahion Studio," she began, voice firm but calm. "Our work draws from tradition, yet speaks to the future. Every thread we stitch tells a story. And I believe African women are not just wearers of fashion we are the inspiration for it."
She tapped her screen, and her designs lit up the display.
Modern silhouettes inspired by Adire.
Bold accessories rooted in Fulani artistry.
Evening gowns that nodded to Igbo royalty.
Streetwear with Hausa embroidery.
The room was silent for a moment. Then, applause.
The head curator leaned forward. "That final piece did you design it?"
"Yes," Bernice said, surprised by the interest.
"Send me a digital copy," the woman said. "I want to include it in our designer highlight preview."
Alexandra glanced at Bernice for the first time in the meeting with a hint of approval.
After the Meeting
They walked back to the car in silence until Alexandra said, "You handled that well."
Bernice exhaled. "Thank you."
He nodded. "If you're going to lead, you need to stop looking over your shoulder. Let that message be the last one you entertain from him."
Bernice looked at him, surprised by the sincerity behind his words.
"I didn't bring you here for sympathy. I brought you here because you have vision. Don't waste it."
She nodded. This time, not because she was trying to please him but because she believed him.
And slowly… maybe she could believe in herself again too.