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Kemfon is a shy but gifted fashion designer whose life changes after her designs go viral. As fame finds her, so does unwanted rivalry, long-buried family tension, and the reappearance of a man whose kiss once ignited something deep-Nsa "Banks," a guarded billionaire used to getting his way. As she rises in the fashion world, she's forced to navigate sabotage, public attention, and unresolved feelings. But what happens when success brings her full circle-to the man she tried to forget
Chapter 1 ONE
"This woman is unbearable," Kemfon muttered as her eyes remained glued to the screen.
A self-proclaimed introvert, she had spent the entire day binge-watching movies recommended by her staff.
She was now on her fifth film, this one starring Anne Hathaway, whom she admired greatly.
"I wouldn't survive if I had a boss like this for 72 hours. I'd shave my hair in frustration," she murmured.
"Aunty relax. It's just a movie," her friend Seima teased from behind.
Kemfon hadn't even noticed her presence. But Seima wasn't surprised. Trust Kemfon to get completely engrossed in a movie that gave her whimsical fantasies.
Kemfon chuckled, realizing she'd been caught.
"Girl! This movie is so interesting," she said in defense of her enthusiasm.
"Why wouldn't it be? It's got pale-skinned people who speak through their noses."
"Mtcheew! Silly, go away please," Kemfon replied, laughing.
Seima never liked Hollywood movies. She always complained she couldn't understand their accent, even though subtitles existed.
Deep down, Kemfon suspected Seima's aversion had more to do with the Hollywood models' thin frames. Seima, being plus-sized, wasn't a fan.
"I'm serious," Seima said, flopping onto the couch beside her. "All these Onyibo films. Their lives are too fast. Before you blink, someone is divorced, someone is dying, someone is adopting a dog."
Kemfon chuckled again. "That's the charm! The drama, the fashion, the crisp office scenes. I mean, look at this outfit-sharp blazer, six-inch heels. Anne is killing it!"
"Please, let me hear word," Seima said, rolling her eyes. "You can't even survive a proper 9-to-5."
They both laughed. There was comfort in such moments-simple, quiet joy wrapped in friendship. The kind of bond that didn't need constant affirmation but was always steady.
"Wait, are you okay at all?" Seima suddenly exclaimed. Kemfon turned to see what had prompted her friend's outburst.
Earlier, Kemfon had soaked cornflakes in milk but found the sugar jar empty. Rather than brave a trip to the nearby mart-a nightmare for her introverted self-she had improvised with salt instead. Seima had just tasted the salty concoction.
Kemfon burst into laughter. "I'm sorry, mummy," she teased, grinning like a mischievous child.
Seima stood arms akimbo, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern. "God help you. I wonder what stepping outside will do to you."
Kemfon shrugged. "At least now you have something to gossip about."
"You need therapy," Seima muttered, still staring at the bowl like it had committed a crime.
"Drama queen," Kemfon said, dragging the bowl closer protectively.
Outside, the sky was soft with the pastel hue of evening. The ceiling fan hummed lazily, and the familiar scent of hair cream and fried plantains from a neighbor's kitchen floated in.
Kemfon had grown up as an only child with a typically strict Nigerian mother. Socializing had never been allowed. Her mother wasn't friendly to anyone-not even her daughter. In church, at school, and in their estate, her mother was known for being quarrelsome.
From an early age, Kemfon learned that silence was safer. She avoided birthday parties, sleepovers, and anything remotely social. Her mother's favorite line was always, "Friends are the first step to destruction."
Her only companionship came from her aunt, Eno. Once Aunty Eno told her that her mother had grown up in a polygamous, impoverished family.
As a child, she suffered from alopecia and kwashiorkor. Aunty Eno described her niece's mother as ridiculed, shamed, and even accused of witchcraft.
"Your grandmother didn't care about her either," Aunty Eno once said.
"What do you mean?" Kemfon had asked.
Her aunt explained that her grandmother, once a beautiful daughter of an Ibibio chief, had become pregnant by a man who already had two wives.
Disowned by her family, she ended up with Archibong, her lover. He accepted her but could not marry her. She had hoped the birth of a beautiful son would strengthen their bond.
Instead, she gave birth to a girl who looked nothing like her-hairless, sickly, and unattractive.
Archibong lost interest, and the grandmother's resentment began. When she couldn't bear more children, her anger deepened.
Aunty Eno described her first encounter with Kemfon's mother as a child being bullied at the village square. Her own mother had intervened and eventually taken the girl to live with them in the city.
That girl became a sister to her and in years, became Kemfon's mother.
Despite understanding her mother's pain, Kemfon struggled with the woman's unkindness.
Her mother was wealthy, owning many shops and properties, but was emotionally distant.
To make matters worse, Kemfon resembled her grandmother, a woman her mother despised most. She often saw faint traces of dislike in her mother's eyes.
There were days Kemfon wished she looked different-maybe darker-skinned, shorter, or even plumper. Anything but this uncanny resemblance to a woman she'd never met.
It was unfair, she thought, to inherit someone's sins by mere genetics.
She had grown up with no father either. He left because he couldn't stand her mother's behavior. Though he tried to reconnect, her mother never allowed it.
She remembered the few letters he sent, and the way her mother tore them without reading. There were phone calls too, cut short before she could even say hello. At some point, he stopped trying.
All Kemfon had was Aunty Eno.
Eno was everything her sister was not-warm, humorous, nurturing. She encouraged Kemfon's passion for sketching clothes, even when her mother dismissed it as childish nonsense. She bought her sketchbooks, colored pencils, and even the first sewing kit. Eno believed in her before she believed in herself.
Now, in her twenties, Kemfon still leaned on her aunt's wisdom. And Seima's friendship. Together, they were her safe spaces in a world that felt too loud, too demanding.
The movie was still playing, but her mind had drifted. She stared at the screen, her thoughts spinning threads of memory and quiet grief.
"You're zoning out again," Seima nudged.
"Sorry," Kemfon said softly. "Just thinking."
"Well, stop thinking and start doing. Like, maybe open a sugar jar before pouring salt into your life."
Kemfon laughed again. "That's... surprisingly profound."
"Thank you. I try," Seima said, flipping her braids dramatically.
And in that small, odd moment-between Hollywood drama and salty cornflakes-Kemfon felt a little more human. A little less alone.
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Chapter 1 ONE
06/06/2025
Chapter 2 TWO
06/06/2025
Chapter 3 THREE
06/06/2025
Chapter 4 FOUR
06/06/2025
Chapter 5 FIVE
06/06/2025
Chapter 6 SIX
06/06/2025
Chapter 7 SEVEN
06/06/2025
Chapter 8 EIGHT
06/06/2025
Chapter 9 NINE
09/06/2025
Chapter 10 TEN
09/06/2025
Chapter 11 ELEVEN
09/06/2025
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