Twisted

1: Dusted memories

Beverly

Hearing he was celebrating his second wedding anniversary on a private island in the Bahamas brewed a funny feeling in my stomach. The blogs have constantly been reporting on this trip and Nigerians or anyone who has social media has been feeding into every information like vultures on a carcass.

I can't escape seeing it everywhere. I really can't.

Everything I know about this man, his wife, and this anniversary has been against my will. From the fact that the people in attendance were flown out on private jets to the location, or that the woman's father owned the island they were currently having a blast on... or that the guests belonged to the highest echelon of society and if you didn't belong to old money like they did, it was a nightmare to even be around them.

It's one thing when the whole country is talking about these people but it's a whole different ball game when you know this could have been your life and you could have been this woman adorned in a custom-made Chanel dress living it up on a private island. But it was never me and will never be.

Sitting in my office with my phone in my hand, I make my way to Instagram: I switch from my business account to my fake account, in the search bar, I type: nabila_danjuma, and being the regular stalker that I am, her page pops up immediately.

Yes, I stalk her. So? Don't we all stalk our exes or their new babe?

I click on her story and the first video I see is a reposted one of her and Zayyad dancing in a circle formed by their guests hyping them up. Their bare feet, covered in white sand and the decorative lights beautifully illuminate their faces as they move to the rhythm of afrobeats blasting from the speakers. He's really into the moment as he takes her hand and twirls her around. She lets out a laugh and throws her arms around his neck.

My stomach is in uncountable knots but I continue to lurk. Tapping and tapping on more reposted videos or pictures from the trip. The decorations, the theme which is an all-white party, the people, the waves from the beach in the background... everything screams perfection.

I spot two people, Zahra and Nafisa, cozying up in a photo with his wife and I don't even know what to feel. They used to be 'friends' of mine but it's been two years now, they owe me no loyalty and it proves to show everything and everyone changes.

I exit the app on the verge of tears but I can not cry right now, I am at work and need to be professional. He's not mine anymore, we've cut contact for more than two years, heck, he's even moved to the UK, the memories are covered in dust and I have to not only accept that but also stop stalking their social media.

I put my phone on the table, turn my laptop back on and resume working on the orders that have been coming in since morning.

Having to run my own business is not as glamorous as it looks on the outside but my managerial skills have come into play and made this store a success since we opened six months ago. I and my partner, Shalewa, moved from having a small store in Gwarinpa to renting a much bigger space and hiring more staff here in Maitama. This fashion thing dey pay abeg.

The fashion show that was held two years ago played a huge role in fully launching my brand into the Nigerian fashion scene and ever since I have seized every opportunity, exposure, and connection I can get, now I am here, my fashion home slowly climbing up the ladder and ranking #4 in the city.

My parents have been nothing but supportive since I sat them down and told them I did not want to practice law. It was tough on my father but he did not have a choice, my mind was set. And I had my own money.

"What is wrong with this thing now?" I mumble as I watch the website crash for the third time.

It is not surprising because this usually happens when we launch a new design and everyone's trying to get a hold of it, the traffic becomes too much and the site crashes. It's 9:47 pm and I lack the mental capacity to deal with this.