Dilemma 4

A fictional read

“Where Ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise” -Thomas Gray

I chose the purple bodycon strapless dress from Prettylittlething, knowing it always earned me compliments, paired with lilac kitten heels. Sitting at my vanity, I applied my makeup and glanced at the bouquet of flowers and chocolates that Roland had sent the day before, officially inviting me on our date.

The thoughtful details filled me with excitement—I could already breathe in his scent and admire his looks. Roland was the most stunning man I’d ever seen, and everything about him made my knees weak.

As "Swimming" by Flawless Mango filled the room, I aimed for a natural makeup look, hydrating my face before applying foundation. I spritzed my signature scent, giving myself a final once-over, admiring my neat low bun, delicate jewelry, and oyster-shaped clutch.

It was a perfect night for fine dining. I looked radiant but still craved validation from my roommate.

“Celia, how do I look?” I asked.

She turned from the TV, offering a satisfied smile. “You already know, but I’ll say it: you look amazing, Sade. That man better have sense.”

“Thank you, my friend,” I said, beaming like a new bride.

“Update me on your location, pick up your phone when I call, and try not to stay out too late, even if I know you’ll be having fun,” she cautioned.

Celia has always been the nurturing friend, despite being only a few months older than me. She’s the kind of friend that doesn’t fully enjoy her time at parties because she’s always looking after everyone, a habit from being the firstborn in a family of four siblings.

We attended the same all-girls secondary school but reconnected during university orientation, becoming inseparable. I realized that nurturing a true friendship requires effort—learning, tolerance, and forgiving each other repeatedly.

“Yes, ma, I heard you,” I joked, giving her a salute as I headed out.

I felt grateful for Celia; few experience a friendship like ours.

With her words echoing in my mind, I slid into the car and texted Roland: “On my way.” His instant reply came: “Can’t wait to see you!”

As I stepped into the restaurant, I was struck by its grandeur. The entrance featured a dolphin-shaped fountain, water cascading from its mouth. Colorful pebbles sparkled like diamonds under the moonlight.

The ambiance was magical, with trees adorned with delicate strings of tiny bulbs casting a warm glow. I took in the serene expressions on the guests’ faces, softened by the gentle lighting.

A wave of the diffuser’s scent enveloped me, intoxicating and beautiful. I made a mental note to ask the manager for the name of the diffuser.

The indoor temperature was perfect—no need for a shawl, which had worried me earlier.

“Ma, do you have a reservation?”

“Umm… I’m here with someone, his name is Roland.”

“Oh yes, welcome, ma. He’s here,” the diligent waiter gestured for me to follow him to my table.

He led me to a private nook, lit by artificial candles and adorned with a beautiful artwork of Yasuke, the black samurai, echoing the restaurant's theme.

Roland stood to greet me, wearing an elegant emerald green two-piece that complemented his skin. He pulled me into a brief hug, making my knees weak, his silver necklace gleaming from beneath his open collar.

His black platform shoes added sophistication, and his scent—a subtle blend of leather and spice—drew me in.

“You look stunning, Sade,” he said, pulling out my chair. “I've missed you.” His warm smile made my heart flutter.

I recalled my mother's advice: always bring a small gift when meeting someone for the first time. It shows respect and thoughtfulness.

“I got you something,” I said, watching his puzzled expression.

“You didn’t have to,” he replied.

“You haven’t even seen it,” I countered, retrieving a tiny gift box containing silver cufflinks.

His smile widened as he examined it. “Sade, this is amazing! I love it,” he said, taking my hand.

We enjoyed a glass of wine before dinner, easing any tension. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, like old friends reconnecting.

Roland shared stories about his interior design business, and I listened, captivated. I learned about his love for art and how he used to paint.

“I’m big on Dad jokes,” he said, grinning.

“I think I tell the best Dad jokes,” he continued excitedly.

“Okay, let me hear one,” I indulged him.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “What did the painter do when he got cold?”

His eyes sparkled.

“What did he do?” I asked.

“He put on another coat,” he beamed.

“You were not kidding when you said, here goes nothing. But it’s funny, ish,” I teased, though I knew I’d be sharing it.

“You loved the joke, don’t lie,” he said, leaning in closer.

The night was going well; we were learning about each other and laughing together. I didn’t want it to end.

He shifted his chair closer, almost eliminating the space between us.

Then his phone rang repeatedly.

“Aren’t you going to take that?” I asked.

“It’s work, but I’m not dealing with it tonight,” he replied, locking eyes with me, making his choice clear.

“You should take the call. It might be important,” I urged, glancing at the phone.

He picked up, and I heard: “Wife.”

“Hello, sir. We have a lead on your wife’s case. Please come to our office immediately.”

Roland bolted upright, nearly knocking over the wine.

“Sade, I’m sorry, I must go!” He rushed for the door.

“Roland, you have a wife?” I asked, shocked.

“Roland, you have a wife!” I shouted in disbelief.

As Roland disappeared into the night, I felt a wave of panic wash over me. Sweat coated my palms, and a tight knot twisted in my stomach.

Breathing felt like a weight on my chest, each inhale a struggle as if my lungs might collapse. My heart raced so fast I thought it would burst.

My limbs grew numb, and thoughts surged through my mind like a storm—too many to grasp, too chaotic to quiet.

I felt completely lost, consumed by an overwhelming tide of fear, and I knew it wasn’t just the wine.

Art work credit: Imaniprints