The sound of a honking danfo bus jarred Amara awake from her early morning stupor. She rubbed her temple as her car inched forward in the gridlocked traffic on the Third Mainland Bridge. Her radio buzzed with the usual morning chatter of Lagos: news of a tanker spill on Ikorodu Road, a few political jabs, and a gospel song crackling over the static. Amara turned the volume down, trying to gather her thoughts.
She glanced at the dashboard clock. 7:45 AM. Thirty minutes to reach her office in Victoria Island, and she was still halfway across the bridge. She sighed deeply, her phone buzzing in the cupholder.
"Amara, don't forget o! Tonight, dinner at 7 PM. Your father and I expect you."
It was a text from her mother. Amara rolled her eyes, already dreading the evening. Family dinners with her parents always came with a side of matchmaking attempts. Her mother had a knack for inviting eligible bachelors to "join the family for a meal." These men were often the same: wealthy, self-assured, and unbearably smug.
Amara replied with a curt "Noted, Mum." She tossed the phone aside and stared out the window. A hawker with a tray of Gala sausage rolls balanced precariously on his head weaved between the cars. The resilience of Lagos never ceased to amaze her.
As traffic began to ease, Amara's thoughts shifted to work. Today was the big meeting with their new architectural partner for the eco-friendly housing project. She had spent weeks preparing a marketing strategy that blended functionality with the vibrancy of Lagos culture. Yet, a gnawing anxiety lingered. She didn't know much about this architect, except that he had recently returned from London and had made a name for himself with bold designs.
She arrived at the sleek, glass-walled office building just in time, hurriedly parking her car and rushing into the elevator. By the time she reached the conference room, the meeting was already underway. Her boss, Mr. Ojo, raised an eyebrow at her late entrance but continued introducing the new collaborator.
"Everyone, this is Mr. Femi Adeyemi. He's one of the most innovative architects in the field today. We're lucky to have him onboard for this project."
Amara adjusted her blazer and took a seat, offering a polite nod in Femi's direction. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, tall and self-assured, with an air of quiet confidence. His sharp, tailored suit and easy smile made an impression on the team—except on Amara.
Femi launched into a presentation about his vision for the project, showcasing slides of sleek, minimalist designs. Amara listened intently, jotting down notes. When he finished, she raised her hand.
"I appreciate the concept, Mr. Adeyemi, but don't you think these designs might alienate a significant portion of the target audience? Lagos residents value functionality as much as aesthetics."
The room went silent. Femi turned to her, his smile unwavering but his tone firm.
"Miss…?"
"Amara Okafor," she replied, meeting his gaze.
"Miss Okafor, I understand your concern, but my designs are not just about aesthetics. They're about creating a space that redefines how Lagosians see home. Perhaps the marketing strategy should reflect that aspiration rather than limiting itself to functionality."
Amara bristled. "Marketing is about connecting with people where they are, not where we think they should be. We're not selling fantasies; we're selling solutions."
Femi leaned back, his expression unreadable. "An interesting perspective. Let's see if it holds up in practice."
The tension in the room was palpable. Mr. Ojo quickly intervened, steering the discussion back to the project goals. Amara sat quietly for the rest of the meeting, her irritation simmering.
As the team dispersed, Tolu, her closest colleague, sidled up to her.
"Well, that was… intense," Tolu said, smirking.
Amara rolled her eyes. "Arrogant much? I don't know how we're supposed to work with someone who thinks he knows everything."
Tolu laughed. "You know what they say about first impressions. Maybe he's not as bad as he seems."
Amara shrugged, not convinced. As she returned to her desk, she couldn't shake the feeling that working with Femi Adeyemi was going to be more challenging than she'd anticipated.