Chapter 20

Zara sat curled on her bed, her knees hugged to her chest as the afternoon sun poured lazily through her window. The email from the modeling agency was still open on her phone screen, its bright text almost mocking her. They had given her a second chance—a golden opportunity she never expected after backing out the first time.

She should’ve been thrilled. She should’ve been out picking an outfit or practicing poses. But instead, she was stuck in a spiral of doubt, fear, and loneliness.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears.

She hadn’t spoken to Kemi all day. No playful banter. No encouraging messages. No Kemi offering to come over and help her prepare. Just silence. It was a silence that echoed louder than any argument could. Kemi’s words from the night before haunted her.

“I have better things to do. Your dad will still call you to run back home… and like always, you will.”

Zara closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip. Kemi was angry—and maybe she had every right to be. But it didn’t make things easier. Zara had never done anything modeling-related without her. Kemi was her planner, her motivator, her safety net.

Now, without her, she felt… small.

She threw her pillow aside and stood up, pacing her room. Her stomach twisted with nerves. She kept telling herself she wasn’t ready. That she couldn’t do it alone. That maybe this modeling thing wasn’t really for her.

Suddenly, she paused in front of her mirror.

Her reflection stared back—tired eyes, rumpled clothes, and a slouch in her shoulders she didn’t recognize. What happened to the girl who used to dream about Paris runways and glossy magazine covers?

She sat back on the bed and let the tears fall.

That was how her mother found her a few minutes later.

“Zara?” she said softly, knocking before walking in. When she saw her daughter’s face, she rushed to sit beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Zara tried to wipe her face quickly, but the tears kept spilling. “Mum… I got another chance.”

Mrs. Tunde blinked. “Another chance?”

“The modeling agency at Ajah. They emailed me again. They said I can still come for today’s shoot if I make it on time.”

Her mother’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s great news. So why are you crying?”

“Because…” Zara’s voice broke. “Kemi isn’t talking to me. And I’ve never gone for anything like this without her. She always came with me. She’s always been there.”

Her mother took her hand gently. “You can still go.”

“I don’t think I can,” Zara whispered.

“Yes, you can,” her mum said, firmer now. “You can do anything you set your mind to. You don’t need to wait for anyone to validate your dreams.”

Zara looked up at her, surprised.

Her mother smiled. “You’re strong, Zara. And you’ve always had the fire. You just let fear dim it.”

“But what about Dad?”

Mrs. Tunde scoffed. “He’s at the office. You leave now, and I’ll cover for you if he comes back before you do. I’ll handle your father.”

“You’ll lie for me?” Zara asked, shocked.

“It’s not lying. It’s protecting my daughter’s destiny,” her mum said with a wink. “Now go, freshen up. You still have time.”

Zara sniffled, then hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Mum.”

An hour later, she arrived at the local modeling agency’s studio in Ajah. Her hands were slightly trembling as she stepped in. The place was buzzing with movement—makeup artists, photographers, and girls dressed in sleek outfits prepping for their turns. It all felt surreal.

A soft-spoken woman guided her to a seat and started working on her makeup.

Zara sat still, trying to calm her racing heart. You can do this, she told herself. Just breathe. Pretend you’re back in your room, doing poses for the mirror.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Without Kemi by her side, the silence felt heavier. The pressure sharper.

As they called her name and she stepped onto the backdrop space for her turn, she whispered a prayer in her mind. God, please don’t let me flop. Please don’t let me embarrass myself.

The lights flicked on.

The camera was pointed at her. The assistant gave her a nod.

She lowered her head for a second to catch her breath—and then she looked up.

And froze.

There, standing quietly in a corner near the window, arms crossed and wearing her usual sass like perfume, was Kemi.

Giving her a look that screamed: You really thought I’d let you go through this without me?

Zara’s lips parted in shock.

Kemi raised a brow and mouthed, Do your thing.

Zara smiled—big, real, and full of sudden confidence.

And then she turned to face the camera, back straight, chin lifted. Pose after pose, she delivered like a pro. Every doubt melted. Every fear dissolved. Kemi’s presence gave her wings.

After the final shot, she exhaled and walked off the set with a spring in her step. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down.

Regan.

She blinked, confused. She hadn’t heard from him in days.

She answered. “Hmm… did Mr. Charming Rude Boy wake up on the good side of the bed today?”

There was silence.

Then Regan said, “Oh. Sorry. Wrong number.”

Zara laughed. “You accidentally called me? Really?”

“Yeah. Was trying to call someone else,” he muttered, clearly lying.

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, Regan. Totally believable.”

He stayed silent for a moment.

Then, “How did the shoot go?”

Her smile faltered slightly. “You did mean to call me, didn’t you?”

Regan sighed. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you asked about the shoot.”

“It just slipped,” he mumbled. “Anyway, I need to go.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Of course you do. Mr. Mysterious.”

“Bye, Zara.”

“Bye.”

As the call ended, she couldn’t help but smile wider. He cared. He just didn’t want to admit it yet.

She turned to look for Kemi, but her best friend was already walking toward her with a bottle of cold water and that same smug smile.

“Don’t get cocky,” Kemi said. “You still owe me amala for all the stress you gave me.”

Zara laughed. “Deal.”