When The Mind Speaks

In the bustling streets of Lagos hummed with life. Hawkers shouted over one another, cars blared their horns, and the rhythmic beats of Afrobeat music floated through the air. In the middle of the chaos, Amara navigated her way through the crowd, clutching her portfolio to her chest.she knew that today was going to be her day of recognition.

Today was important. A potential client had promised to meet her at a café in Victoria Island to discuss a commissioned painting. It wasn't every day that she got an opportunity like this, and she couldn't afford to let it slip through her fingers. She was an artist was career was lagging behind and she needed this contract to get back on her feet and continue working so this was a major breakthrough for her and she wouldn't let it skip away so easily.

She arrived at La Vie Café, a quaint but elegant spot tucked between two towering office buildings. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air. She exhaled, adjusting her yellow sundress before stepping inside.she was very anxious and nervous and her heart was beating like crazy , she was sweaty ,and confused.

Her eyes scanned the room. A few businesspeople sat in their corners, buried in their laptops. Lovers whispered over cups of steaming cappuccino.student looking at their books and studying , girls gossiping at a distance and she was confused But there was no sign of the man she was supposed to meet. Despite looking around over and over again.

Frowning, she checked her phone. No message. She checked one more time but no messages,calls,or chats.

With a sigh, she walked to the counter and ordered a latte. As she waited, she pulled out her sketchbook and absentmindedly started sketching the café's interior. Drawing was her escape, a way to quiet the noise in her mind. A way to feel safe and a way to be happy and a way to leave this world , it was her safe space , a place she always likes going to when she was down .

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Her potential client never showed. She felt so angry and frustrated but thanks to her drawing books she felt safe and secured , despite the troubles around her she was happy because of her drawings.

Disappointment settled in her chest, but she wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first time someone had admired her work, made promises, and then disappeared. It was constant, she felt like people were like that ,scammers , fraudster,and liars . People who disappoint others and make them sad.

Just as she was about to pack up and leave, a deep voice spoke behind her.she was startled and turned back.

"You drew this?" A man said behind her.

She turned to see a man standing over her, pointing at her sketchbook. He was tall, well-dressed, and had an air of quiet confidence about him, he had blue eyes and long lushious hair and he was cute. His navy-blue suit fit him perfectly, his neatly trimmed beard complementing his strong jawline. His dark eyes studied the sketch, his brow slightly raised in appreciation.he was amazed at seeing such a beautiful drawing , he didn't know that such artist and talent still existed in this world.

"Yes," she said cautiously. It is just a little something I did for a client I have better ones at home.i just drew this one to pass time.

"It's impressive," he said, glancing at her. "You captured the essence of this place perfectly."I mean look at this drawing it is so beautiful you are extremely talented.

Amara closed the sketchbook. "Thanks." Noone really tells me that they actually insult my drawings and call it fake and rags.

She was in no mood to engage in small talk, especially after being stood up.she just wanted to go home and relax .

"I hope you don't mind," he continued, slipping into the seat opposite her, "but I couldn't help noticing how focused you were. It's rare to see someone so absorbed in their craft." I mean nowadays people just use AI to design such drawings and pretend as if they had drew it. But after seeing you draw this I'm really impressed.

She studied him for a moment. He didn't seem like the typical Lagos playboy who threw compliments around like confetti. There was something about his demeanor-calm, controlled, yet undeniably magnetic. This attracted her to him and she wanted to listen to him more.

"I take my work seriously," she said simply. She was still looking at him and scanning him properly.

"As you should," he replied. "Do you sell your paintings?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "I do." But I hardly find clients

He extended a hand. "Daniel."