"Hand me the scissors, will you?" I said to Jolayemi in a bluntly rude tone. Not that I cared to realise how I sounded any way, I just needed to get my job done.

It was two days since I left Kamal at Iya Amoke's buka and I have been drowning myself in work ever since. I didn't want to think back at how everything turned out, I just needed distractions and that has been going fine all by me. I haven't been at home but Jola and Fiyin both pleaded to accompany to my studio as they were curious to see how things were turning.

In all honesty, there was no spirit of enthusiasm with me with my two siblings as they made things worse with their bickering and laughters. I loved distraction but theirs wasn't a good one. Since they have both chosen to be useless, I decided Fiyin would come in handy in being my model for the sampling fitting.

"What is wrong with her?" I heard Jola whisper into Fiyin's ear.

"Ask her yourself na," Fiyin replied in sarcasm, making Jola to kiss her teeth loudly.

"Here, your scissors," I ordered, ignoring that I never heard what their whispers were about.

"Took you long enough." I sighed as Jola handed it over with my gaze still focused on the pins I attached together on the fabric.

I was working on a corset jumpsuit, a piece from the collection I came up with and so help me goodness fuck, Fiyin wasn't staying still.

I stretched my palms signalling Jolayemi to hand me more sewing pins. "Pins!"

"How many?"

"Four of them and just the green colour." I ordered my eyes still glued at Fiyin's snatched waist.

I heard her muttering profanities underneath her breath whilst she fished for the pins in the cookie tin I stored them all in. She handed them over to me one by one.

"Ouch!" I heard Fiyin flinched. "You are hurting me."

"That's because you aren't staying still." I said to Fiyin in an already frustrating voice.

"Take it easy on her na." Jola chimed in.

I paid no attention to their complaints, they could screech for all I care. I continued holding the fabric with the pins together, still kneeling to sew some parts that needed some detailing fixing.

"Ouch!" Fiyin yelped in pain, causing me to unintentionally preek her with the sewing needle.

I didn't know but I felt all the anger and frustration flaring inside me. They had ruined the perfect piece I was working on and I was sure these two fools had no idea of of the blood and sweat I put to have made this work.

"You know what? I think you both should leave." I said in the most calmest tone, trying to compose myself.

"Are you serious now? What is wrong, Yeside?" Jola retorted with a confused look on her face.

"I need the both of you out of my studio! Get out and never come back." I said with rage filling every inch of me.

"What the hell? You hurt me with that needle and this is all I get?" Fiyin glared at me.

"I don't understand, why should I get out too?" Jola protested.

"I said the both of you should get out! Get out of here and never come back again! Devil's messengers!" I snapped at them in rage.

They knew not to protest further with the look I had on my face. They knew me too well when it came to being on my bad side. I could care less if they ripped off the jumpsuit I made, they needed to leave.

I dropped down to the floor after I watched them walk out of the studio, crying with my face buried in my palms as I let out the uncontrollable tears.

There was no way I was going to stay here. I needed to get the hell out of here.

______

Minutes later...

I sat on the bank feeling desolate. I thought of calling Tunde but that would be stupid of me, it was of no use confiding in him.

"You stole my hiding spot," I turned to the voice that spoke behind me.

There he was again. The one and only Kamal Madaki.

I kissed my teeth loudly with the sight of him, not waiting to turn quickly as to avert my eyes on him. Was this guy stalking me? What was he doing here?

"Wetin bring you come here, this man?" I said to him, my voice clearly laced with annoyance.

He gave out a chuckle. "Why are you always angry, Yeside?" he sat beside me with a gentle smile plastered on his face as though we didn't have a fight on our last encounter.

We ke? It was only you who fought him na.

"Are you stalking me?" I asked, my arms now folded together.

"What? No. I often come to this park to clear my head," he defended.

Well, maybe Abuja was truly a small place.

I took away my gaze from him, staring into the thin air with nothing to say. The silence strained between us continued for minutes until he broke the silence rummaging between us.

"Why are you here too?"

"To clear my head," I responded.

"Look... if it's about what I said the other day, I am sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive, I-"

Oh, Kamal.

"It's fine. I shouldn't have left angrily, I got caught up in the moment." I said to him with a weak smile.

Remembering the sad moments of my life; like when my bastard father left, Tunde saying we needed a break, the meltdown I had in front of Fiyin and Jola or the fact that I was a loser in her thirties with no accomplishments left to my name. I could feel hot tears struggling to come out, I blinked hardly trying to avoid them from gushing out infront of him.

No way in hell I was going to cry in front of Kamal, I would rather let the ground open to swallow me. I found his eyes looking at me and I knew he could tell.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I don't like crying infront of strangers." I let out, feeling a tightness in my throat not holding the pent up tears any longer.

"Can I hold your hands?" Kamal voiced gently.

I nodded my head slowly, still fighting the urge to stop tears from gushing out. How could you be so foolish, Yeside? Allowing yourself to cry infront of a man!

I felt his cold hand entwined into my fingers, you people this might sound cliché but an electric spark fused in me causing me to shiver.

"I am sorry, I am usually never this way." I apologised, giggling a little admist the tears whilst trying to let my fingers out from his hold.

"I am no longer a stranger and you know it."

"I am just tired. I have such a shitty life, I am a thirty-three years old loser who fails at everything. I am in a shitty relationship, all of my friends and siblings are well to do and I know they are only tolerating. My mother can't stand me, I have a friend at the verge of death, fought with my two sisters and I failed in making a dress and I am stranded as shit!" More tears rushed down my cheeks, it was then I felt him rubbing my back in soft circles with my face buried to his chest.

Tears aside, I admire how dedicated this bobo is in smelling good.

He sat there not uttering a word after my outburst, still continuing with the back-rubbing. I was sure his kaftan was wet from my tears already. Soon enough, I raised my head to him slowly meeting his face with that usual smile he had on lips.

This man can smile for Africa!

"If you must know, I once told you that you were an interesting woman. For the short time that we have spoken, I know you to be an intelligent woman. I want you to see it this way, think of what you have accomplished so far maybe that might motivate you. Although, if it's finally, I don't mind you being my sugar baby," he voiced.

"Ehn?" I deadpanned, shocked at his late statement.

"Try me, I am a man of my words."

Issa lie!