The weekend after Dr. Amina’s gala came with a peculiar type of stillness.
The high from the event had settled, the gold and ivory fabrics were packed away, and the echo of Setto’s voice on the dance floor was still lingering in Tammy’s ears.
But she knew she couldn’t move an inch forward until she cleared the unresolved path behind her.
It wasn’t fair to Femi, and frankly, it wasn’t fair to the peace she had just spent seven days fighting for in the presence of God.
On Monday morning, she picked up her phone, her fingers hovering over Femi’s name.
There was no shaking this time. The anxiety that usually clouded her stomach when she thought of him had been replaced by a quiet, steady resolve.
She dialed. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hello, Tammy. Good morning,” his voice was polite, even, but guarded. It was the voice of a man who had adjusted to the cold weather of her absence.
“Morning, Femi. How is your week starting?”
“Fine, thank you. Just catching up on some site reviews. You?”
“I’m okay. The gala is over, so the studio is a bit breathable now,” Tammy said, clearing her throat.
She didn’t want to do the long, drawn-out small talk. It would only make the landing harder.
“Uhhhhh….Femi, I was wondering if you’d be free for us to meet up tomorrow. Maybe lunch or an early dinner? Just the two of us. I think we really need that sit-down.”
There was a distinct pause on the line. She could hear the faint rustle of papers on his end, then a slow exhale.
“Tomorrow won’t really work, Tammy,” Femi said, his tone entirely casual but firm.
“I have some things fixed for that day. Actually, I have a date that’s going to take up most of my day and evening, so my schedule is completely locked.”
Tammy froze for a microsecond.
A date?
A sudden, sharp sting of something she couldn’t quite define pinched her chest.
For a split second, the old, stubborn Tammy wanted to feel insulted.
A date? As in, another woman? While I was away praying, you were already finding a replacement?
But almost as fast as the thought came, her spirit corrected her.
She took a deep breath, suppressing the involuntary flare of ego.
Why should I feel some type of way? she thought to herself.
It’s not like we are even dating. I asked for space, and he has his life to live.
“Oh, okay! That’s completely fine,” she said, her voice smooth, ensuring no hint of her brief shock leaked through.
“What about the day after? Wednesday afternoon? Say around 2:00 PM?”
“Wednesday works,” Femi replied.
“Where do you have in mind?”
“Let’s do that small spot in Ikoyi. The Orchid Bistro.”
“Alright. Wednesday at two. I’ll see you there, Tammy.”
Wednesday arrived with a bright, unbothered sun.
Tammy chose her outfit with deliberate intention. She didn’t dress to impress or to look like the high-fashion corporate stylist she was.
She wanted comfort and absolute confidence.
She wore a pair of high-waisted, wide-leg linen trousers in a soft cream color, paired with a simple, well-fitted olive green knit top.
She slid into her favorite leather slides, packed her braids into a neat, low bun, and wore minimal makeup—just a touch of lip gloss and her gold hoops.
When she walked into The Orchid Bistro, the serene ambiance immediately enveloped her.
The restaurant was simple, unpretentious, and tucked away from the main road.
It had an indoor-outdoor feel, with lush green plants trailing down wooden trellises and simple, dark wood furniture that gave it a rustic, cozy charm.
It wasn’t the kind of place where Lagos “big boys” came to spray money; it was a place for real, uninterrupted conversation.
Femi was already sitting at a corner table by the window.
Tammy stopped for a moment to look at him.
He looked good. He was wearing a well-pressed, short-sleeved navy blue linen shirt and casual grey trousers, looking relaxed and confident in his own skin.
There was no anger in his posture, just the familiar, steady presence he had always possessed.
“Hey,” Tammy said, stepping up to the table.
Femi stood up immediately, offering a warm, genuine smile.
Instead of the awkward, stiff hugs they’d shared recently, this one was comfortable.
“Hey. You look good. Olive is definitely your color.”
“Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself,” she sat down, adjusting her bag on the spare chair.
“Have you ordered?”
“Just water for now. I was waiting for you.”
They ordered their food. Tammy went for the grilled chicken salad, while Femi opted for a club sandwich and fries.
The initial small talk was easy, almost like the old days when they were just two young people navigating Lagos.
But as the waiter cleared the starter plates, the atmosphere shifted.
The elephant in the room was too big to ignore.
Femi set his glass down and looked at her directly.
“So, Tammy. You said we needed a real sit-down. I’m listening.”
Tammy took a slow breath, folding her hands on the table.
She looked at him, ensuring her gaze didn’t waver.
“Femi, first of all, I want to say thank you. For your patience, for giving me the space I asked for, and for just being the amazing person you’ve always been. But I won’t beat around the bush.”
She paused then continued,
“I’ve spent the last few weeks doing a lot of heavy lifting in my spirit. I’ve been praying, Femi. Seriously praying. And I need to be completely honest with you about why you and I cannot date or go forward with marriage.”
Femi didn’t flinch.
He just nodded slowly, his eyes steady on hers.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“The first, and most important reason, is peace,” Tammy said softly.
“I have prayed about us until my head was aching, Femi. And every time I try to force my heart to see a future with you as my husband, I don’t feel that deep, settled peace. Yes, you are a good man. On paper, you are everything any sensible woman would ask God for. You are kind, successful, stable, and godly. But ‘good’ doesn’t mean ‘God’s will’ for me.”
“ I’ve spent too much time praying for a life partner to end up settling for what is just convenient or safe. If I marry you just because you love me and because it makes sense to everyone else, I will end up hurting you. I would be offering you a wife who is physically there but spiritually and emotionally absent. You deserve someone who looks at you and is 100% sure. I am not that person.”
Femi swallowed, his throat moving tightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He kept his eyes on his locked fingers.
“The second reason is alignment,” Tammy continued, her voice gaining strength.
“When I look at where my life is going, the vision God is giving me for my future, my business, the unconventional paths I know I’m going to walk... our lives don’t align, Femi. What you want out of a home, the structure you desire, and what I am being pulled toward, they are two different directions.”
“We would spend our entire marriage trying to pull each other into boxes where we don’t fit, and we would both end up frustrated.”
She paused, taking a sip of her water before delivering the final, hardest truth.
“And the third reason... Femi, it’s your mother.”
Femi raised his eyebrows, a slight frown touching his forehead.
“My mother?”
“Yes, Femi. Your mother,” Tammy said, her tone firm but without malice.
“I’ve been studying her, especially after what happened at my studio weeks ago. She is incredibly overbearing, Femi. And the truth is, it is annoying. She came to my place of work, used emotional blackmail, cried, and then insulted me because I wouldn’t give her a date for marriage. Even before we’ve even said ‘yes’ to anything, she is already trying to run the script of my life. In a marriage, a man needs to be able to protect his home from that kind of intrusion. But with the way things are, and with how she handles you as her only son, that overbearing nature will become a constant war zone in our lives. I love my peace too much to marry into a family where I have to fight the mother-in-law just to breathe in my own house.”
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the low jazz music playing from the restaurant’s speakers.
Femi sat back in his chair, staring out the window for a long time.
Tammy waited, letting him process everything. She didn’t feel guilty anymore; she felt lighter. The truth was out, clean and untangled.
When Femi finally looked back at her, the tension in his jaw had relaxed. He let out a long, quiet sigh.
“You’re right about my mother,” he said, surprising her.
“I won’t even defend her. When she told me she went to your studio, I was furious with her. She has a way of letting her anxiety for my future drive her into spaces where she doesn’t belong. I love her, but I know how suffocating she can be. So... I understand that part completely.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“And everything else you said... It makes sense, Tammy. It hurts, I won’t lie to you. I’ve carried the idea of you in my head for a very long time. But I’ve also realized over these past few weeks of silence that I was chasing a version of you. You have an amazing attitude, a great heart, and you’ve built something incredible. I can’t force a piece of a puzzle into a space where the shape has changed.”
Tammy felt a genuine wave of warmth spread through her chest.
“Thank you for saying that, Femi. You have no idea how much it means to me. You really do have an amazing heart, and I honestly look forward to us having a great, solid friendship in the future. Once the dust settles, I don’t want to lose you as a person.”
“We won’t lose each other,” Femi smiled gently.
Then, his eyes narrowed slightly, a look of quiet curiosity taking over.
“But let me ask you... that other guy. The one I saw at your studio. Are you guys dating now?”
Tammy’s heart did a quick, familiar flutter, but she shook her head honestly.
“Not yet. We are not dating yet. We are still figuring out what’s ahead.”
Femi nodded, a small, knowing smile on his lips.
“Okay. Fair enough.” He paused, tapping his glass.
“You remember I told you I had a date yesterday?”
“Yes,” Tammy said, her curiosity piqued.
“You said it was going to take up your whole day.”
“Yeah,” Femi’s eyes lit up with a sudden, genuine brightness that Tammy hadn’t seen in him in months.
“I actually met somebody a couple of weeks ago through a mutual friend at a project site. We went out yesterday, and... I won’t lie, Tammy, I really like her. I think I’m genuinely attracted to her, and I’m really hoping something beautiful comes out of it. She’s so similar to you and she has this grounding presence that just works for me.”
Tammy’s jaw dropped slightly before a massive, joyful grin broke across her face. The relief was so absolute she felt like laughing out loud.
“Oh my God, Femi! Seriously? Look at you! I am so, so happy for you!”
“Yeah,” Femi chuckled, a bit sheepishly.
“But I needed to have this conversation with you first. I wanted to know exactly where you stood before I made any serious move with her. I didn’t want to start building something new while I still had an open door with you. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”
Tammy felt a sudden prick of tears in her eyes, moved by his integrity.
“Femi, I am so sorry for dragging this out for so long. I am sorry for keeping you in that limbo while I was trying to find my head. You are too good a man to be kept waiting.”
“Don’t apologize, Tam,” Femi said, reaching across the table to give her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze.
“The timing was necessary. If we didn’t go through this, I wouldn’t have been ready for what’s next either. No regrets.”
The food arrived, steaming and fragrant, but the weight that had traveled with them into the restaurant was completely gone.
The restaurant was peaceful, the low jazz music humming in the background as Tammy dipped a fork into her chicken salad, completely relaxed for the first time in months.
Femi was laughing, mid-sentence, gesturing with a fry as he explained how his new lady had completely called him out on his terrible driving vocabulary during their date.
The pleasant atmosphere shattered when the glass doors of The Orchid Bistro swung open with a sharp, unnecessary force.
Tammy didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.
The sudden scent of expensive, suffocatingly sweet Tom Ford perfume filled the narrow entryway, followed by the familiar, heavy click of designer heels against the polished concrete floor.
It was Koda.
She walked into the bistro like she was evaluating a property she intended to demolish.
She was dressed in an immaculate, ice-blue linen jumpsuit, her oversized sunglasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose, and a pristine white Hermès Birkin bag slung over her forearm.
Behind her was a young woman carrying three large shopping bags, looking exhausted. Clearly an assistant or a personal shopper.
Koda’s eyes scanned the small, rustic restaurant with visible distaste until her gaze landed directly on the corner table by the window.
On Tammy. And Femi.
Koda stopped in her tracks.
She slowly lowered her sunglasses, her sharp eyes taking in the scene with a sudden, malicious intensity.
A slow, mocking smile crept onto her perfectly lined lips.
She muttered something to her assistant, dismissed her with a wave of her hand, and began walking straight toward their table.
Tammy felt a familiar tightness in her chest.
What is this one doing here? she thought, her grip tightening on her fork.
She had spent the last month tolerating Koda’s snobbishness for the sake of Dr. Amina and Setto, but today was her day off.
She was entirely out of professional patience.
“Well, well, well,” Koda purred as she reached the edge of the table, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
“Tammy. I didn’t know you frequented places like this. I thought you’d be locked up in that little shop, drowning in threads and needles after my mother’s party.”
Femi stopped chewing, his eyes darting from Koda to Tammy, picking up on the immediate drop in room temperature.
He politely set his sandwich down, waiting to see who this intruder was.
Tammy didn’t stand up. She didn’t smile. She just leaned back in her chair, holding Koda’s gaze with a calm, unbothered stare.
“Good afternoon, Koda. Yes, even stylists have to eat. What brings you to this part of town?”
“Oh, just a little retail therapy,” Koda said, gesturing vaguely toward the door where her assistant was waiting.
She didn’t look at Tammy for long; her eyes quickly shifted to Femi, scanning his navy linen shirt, his casual grey trousers, and the simple wristwatch he wore.
Her expression was a mix of amusement and high-society arrogance.
“And who is your... friend?” Koda asked, her tone heavy with the implication that Femi didn’t quite meet the “Bello standard” of eligible bachelors.
“You didn’t introduce us.”
Before Tammy could even open her mouth to give Koda a proper, biting response, Femi stood up.
He didn’t look intimidated at all.
He wiped his hands with a napkin, adjusted his shoulders, and extended a hand with the easy, dignified confidence of a man who owned his own space.
“Good afternoon,” Femi said, his voice calm and grounded.
“I’m Femi. A friend of Tammy’s.”
Koda looked at his hand for a fraction of a second before extending two fingers for a brief, cold shake.
“Koda Bello. Setto’s sister. I’m sure Tammy has mentioned my family to you... if she’s the type to brag about her clients.”
Tammy’s blood began to simmer.
She could tolerate Koda insulting her fabrics, but bringing her arrogant attitude to a private lunch with Femi was crossing a line.
“Actually, Koda, Femi and I were in the middle of a private conversation,” Tammy said, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that made her look entirely like the boss she was.
“We are celebrating some very good news, so if you’ll excuse us...”
“Oh, don’t let me interrupt your little celebration,” Koda laughed, a sharp, patronizing sound that made a couple at the next table look over.
She leaned in slightly, resting her manicured hand on the back of an empty chair, her eyes locking onto Tammy with a wicked gleam.
“I was just surprised, that’s all. After all the noise my brother has been making about you lately, I expected to see you with someone a bit more... How do I put it? In his league. I didn’t know you had options in the lower tier.”
Femi’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he remained completely calm, a small, amused smile touching his lips.
He looked at Koda like she was a curious specimen, entirely unbothered by her wealth or her insults.
But Tammy was done.
She stood up slowly, her tall frame matching Koda’s height, her wide-leg trousers flowing elegantly as she braced her hands on the table.
“Koda, let me tell you something,” Tammy whispered, her voice carrying a weight that made Koda’s smile falter just a fraction.
“You see this mouth of mine? I’ve been keeping it closed because I love and respect your mother. But we are not in the VIP lounge of the George Hotel today. This is my personal time. Do not bring your insecurity and your bad manners to my table. My friends, my life, and my options are entirely none of your business. Go and find your assistant and go home.”
Koda blinked, clearly shocked that the “ordinary stylist” was speaking to her with such raw, unyielding authority.
Her face flushed a deep, angry crimson under her expensive makeup.
She straightened up, pulling her Birkin bag tighter against her side.
“You are very rude,” Koda hissed, her upper class accent slipping into a sharp, defensive tone.
“I will be sure to mention this attitude to my brother. Let’s see how much he likes his ‘creative genius’ when he finds out how ghetto she can be.”
“Please, tell him,” Tammy shrugged, a cold, confident smile breaking across her face.
“Tell him I said exactly what I said. He has my number.”
Koda let out a sharp hiss, turned on her designer heels, and marched out of the restaurant, her jumpsuit fluttering behind her as she slammed the glass doors.
The silence returned to the bistro, heavy but clean.
Tammy stood there for a second, taking a deep breath to settle the adrenaline in her veins, before slowly sitting back down.
She looked at Femi, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment.
“Femi... I am so sorry,” Tammy groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“I am so sorry you had to witness that. That girl is a menace.”
Femi didn’t look upset at all. He was actually chuckling, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head.
“Tammy, why are you apologizing? That was magnificent. I’ve missed seeing you fire up like that.”
“It’s not funny,” Tammy mumbled, looking up.
“She’s Setto’s sister. She’s been looking for a reason to tear me down since day one.”
Femi’s smile softened, his eyes turning serious but kind.
“Well, she didn’t tear you down. If anything, she just showed me exactly what I’ve been realizing today. You don’t belong in a quiet, safe corner anymore, Tam. You are dealing with lions now. And from what I just saw? You know how to roar.”
He tapped the table gently.
“So, that’s the sister of the man with the locs?”
“Yes,” Tammy sighed, running a hand over her braids.
“That’s her.”
“Hmm,” Femi nodded, picking his sandwich back up.
“She’s a handful. But if her brother is anything like you describe, I think he can handle it. Now, finish your salad. We haven’t even talked about what I’m going to wear for my next date.”
Tammy laughed, the last remnants of her anger dissolving as she looked at the man who had been her past, realizing that even in the middle of a Lagos storm, the peace they had found today was unbreakable.
The drive back to her studio in was an exercise in pure irritation for Tammy.
She sat in the back of the taxify, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, her thumb tapping rhythmically against the glass screen.
The encounter with Koda was like a bad aftertaste that refused to wash away, no matter how much water she drank.
She picked up her phone and dialed Valerie’s number.
Valerie picked up on the second ring, the sound of a sewing machine whirring loudly in the background.
“Tammy! Tell me you have good news because this lace I’m cutting is giving me chest pain,” Valerie shouted over the noise.
“Valerie, shut down that machine now because my own chest is actually burning!” Tammy snapped, her voice rising as the anger she had suppressed in front of Femi finally bubbled over.
“You will not believe what just happened. I am so upset, Val. My body is literally shaking again.”
The whirring noise stopped instantly. “Wait, what? Don’t tell me Femi acted drama? I thought you said he was a good guy!”
“No! Not Femi! Femi was perfect. Femi is an angel, God bless his soul,” Tammy groaned, leaning her head against the cool glass of the car window.
“We were eating, having a perfectly beautiful, mature conversation. I gave him the reasons, he understood, he even told me he’s seeing someone else and he’s happy. We were laughing, Val. Laughing!”
“Okay, so who now caused the high blood pressure?”
“Koda!” Tammy hissed the name like it was a curse.
“The ice queen herself. She walked into the restaurant with her nose in the air, looking like she wanted to buy the place and turn it into a dump site. She saw me and Femi, and she marched straight to our table to do her high-society madness. Val, this girl literally looked at Femi and called him a ‘lower-tier option.’ She implied that because I’m a stylist, I should be bragging about her family, and that Femi wasn’t in Setto’s league!”
On the other end of the line, Valerie let out a loud, dramatic gasp.
“Blood of Zechariah! She said that? To Femi’s face?”
“To his face, Val! I kept my cool for this long because of Dr. Amina, but today? The tiger in me broke out of the cage. I stood up and I told her off. I told her to pack her bad manners and her assistant and get out of my sight. I told her she was rude and insecure.”
“Ha! Inside the restaurant?” Valerie sounded half-terrified and half-impressed.
“What did she do?”
“She went red! She looked like she wanted to faint. Then she threatened me. She said she was going to report me to Setto, that she would tell him how ‘ghetto’ I am so he can see my real character.”
“Val, I told her to go ahead and call him. But now that the adrenaline has cleared, I am just so disgusted. Why is this girl always on my case? What type of wahala is this? If it’s not one family drama, it’s another!”
“Calm down, jare,” Valerie said, though her voice carried a trace of worry.
“You did the right thing. You can’t let anybody trample on you or your friends just because they have a big name. But Tammy... She will definitely call Setto. You know how these spoiled rich kids are. She will twist the story and make it look like you attacked her for no reason.”
“Let her call him!” Tammy snapped, though a small, anxious knot was already tightening in her stomach.
“If Setto is the kind of man who will listen to his sister’s lies without asking for my side, then he is not even the man I thought he was. I’m done, Val. I’m going back to the studio to lock myself inside.”
“Alright, text me when you get to the shop. And please, drink cold water!”
Tammy hung up, throwing her phone into her bag.
She stared out at the Lekki toll gate, her chest heaving.
She was truly upset. She had spent weeks praying for clarity and peace, and the moment she finally achieved it with Femi, Koda had to come and stain the white fabric of her day.
When Tammy walked into the studio, Chioma took one look at her face and immediately scrambled to the back corner of the room, pretending to be deeply invested in sorting a massive box of multi-colored acrylic buttons and glass bugle beads.
Tammy didn’t even take off her shoes.
She stood behind her cutting table, crossed her arms, and stared at the door. She was waiting for the shoe to drop. She knew Koda’s type.
Women like that didn’t wait twenty-four hours to exact revenge.
Exactly forty-five minutes later, the glass bell above the door chimes.
The sound is sharp, but it is instantly drowned out by the sudden, heavy shift in the room’s temperature.
Setto walks through the door.
He is in a charcoal-grey fitted t-shirt that hugs the heavy muscle of his chest and shoulders like a second skin, black denim jeans, and clean, dust-free leather boots.
His locs are tied back securely, but a few stray, dark strands frame his sharp jawline. He looks absolutely massive in the center of her creative space, entirely swallowing up the room’s air.
His face is a mask of intense, dark concentration.
Chioma lets out a tiny, terrified squeak from the back corner, snatches her handbag from beneath her stool, and slips out the rear door into the storage alley without a single word.
She doesn’t need a sign; the air is already vibrating.
Tammy stands her ground behind the wide oak table.
She squares her shoulders, tilting her chin high.
She is a petite woman, but her presence fills her studio with an answering heat.
“Setto,” she says, her voice clipping the air, cold and heavily defensive.
Setto stops right on the opposite side of the cutting table. He doesn’t say a word at first.
His dark eyes travel slowly over her face, tracking the slight flare of her nostrils, the tension in her full lips, and the fierce, unyielding wall she has built around herself.
He looks down at the table separating them, his long fingers trailing over a silver ruler, before his gaze snaps back up to lock onto hers.
The silence between them stretches, pulling so tight it feels like a physical wire humming in the room.
“My sister called me,” he begins, his voice a low, heavy bass that rattles against her ribs.
“She was hysterical, Tammy. She told me you insulted her publicly in the middle of a restaurant. She said you dragged our family name, threw her out, and humiliated her in front of your... companion.”
My babiesss..
Somebody play me “It’s about to go down”
Because it actually is about to go down 😂😂.
See you guys on Sunday for a fresh episode🤭
Ps: You might get two episodes on Sunday if you get this post to 200 likes, 50 restacks and 70 comments.
Also you and Abimbola have conspired to leave us hanging on a thread I hope it won’t drop us before Sunday.
The ground we are standing on is shaky, because what in the Koda is going on???
This Koda girl thinks everything revolves around her? because why would you do that!
That was admirable of Tammy to stand up for herself and for Femi.