The Mentor’s Shadow

Thursday morning began earlier than usual for Zai.

She couldn’t sleep.

Not because of the competition.

Not because of work.

Because Funke’s words refused to leave her alone.

“People notice patterns.”

She stood in front of the mirror fastening the buttons of her blouse.

Was she doing anything wrong?

No.

Had Raymond ever crossed a line?

Not really.

He had encouraged her.

Given her opportunities.

Introduced her to people who mattered.

Everything had been work-related.

So why did it suddenly feel like she was being watched?

---

On the bus to Victoria Island, she opened her sketchbook.

Instead of working on her competition design, she wrote one sentence at the top of a blank page.

What kind of designer do I want to become?

She stared at it for the rest of the journey.

At LuxeThread, the atmosphere was unusually cheerful.

The Human Resources department had organized a monthly staff breakfast.

Nothing extravagant.

Tea.

Coffee.

Puff-puff.

Moi moi.

Sandwiches.

For one hour, deadlines were forgotten.

People mingled freely.

It was one of the few occasions where interns, managers, tailors, and executives occupied the same space.

Zai found herself standing beside a quiet man she’d never spoken to before.

“I’m Chinedu.”

He extended his hand.

“I handle production.”

“I’m Zainab.”

“I know.”

She laughed.

“I’m beginning to hear that a lot.”

He smiled politely.

“Your sketches have been circulating.”

“My sketches?”

“The approved ones.”

He quickly added.

“Relax.”

“Only internally.”

She let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Across the room, Raymond was speaking with department heads.

Adanna arrived a few minutes later.

She greeted people by name.

Asked after their families.

Congratulated one employee whose wife had just given birth.

Comforted another whose mother had recently undergone surgery.

Zai watched quietly.

She had expected the Executive Director to be distant.

Instead, people genuinely seemed comfortable around her.

Even the cleaners smiled when she greeted them.

That surprised Zai.

Power usually created distance.

Adanna somehow carried hers differently.

“Good morning.”

Zai turned.

Adanna was standing beside her.

“Good morning, Ma.”

“I hope you’re settling in.”

“Yes.”

“I’m enjoying the work.”

“I’m glad.”

A waiter walked past carrying fresh orange juice.

Adanna picked up two glasses.

She handed one to Zai.

“Thank you.”

For a few seconds they stood together watching staff laugh across the room.

Then Adanna asked quietly,

“How’s your mother?”

Zai looked surprised.

“She’s well.”

“And your brother?”

“They’re both fine.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Zai frowned slightly.

“You remember?”

Adanna smiled.

“You told me during your portfolio review.”

It wasn’t unusual.

Good leaders remembered details.

Still…

Zai couldn’t explain why it made her feel exposed.

The breakfast ended.

Everyone returned to work.

Just before lunch, an email arrived from Raymond.

Subject: Design Review

Please come to the creative studio at 2:00 p.m. Bring your current competition ideas.

Every designer had received the same email.

The room relaxed immediately.

At least this meeting wasn’t just for her.

The creative studio was one of Raymond’s favourite spaces.

Unlike the main design room, this one was reserved for brainstorming.

The walls were covered with sketches from previous collections.

Fabric samples hung from wooden racks.

Music played softly in the background.

One by one, designers presented their ideas.

Raymond asked questions.

Made suggestions.

Rejected a few concepts.

Praised others.

When it was Zai’s turn, she placed three sketches on the table.

“I’m still exploring.”

Raymond studied them carefully.

“You’ve changed direction.”

“I wasn’t satisfied.”

“Why?”

She hesitated.

“They looked beautiful.”

“But?”

“They didn’t feel honest.”

He looked up.

“What do you mean?”

“I think…”

She searched for the right words.

“…I was trying to impress judges instead of designing something I’d actually be proud of.”

The room became quiet.

Raymond smiled.

“Keep talking.”

“I started asking myself whether I wanted applause…”

She pointed to the newest sketch.

“…or whether I wanted someone to wear this dress ten years from now and still remember how it made them feel.”

Raymond nodded slowly.

“This.”

He tapped the sketch gently.

“This is your voice.”

Several designers looked at her work again.

Even Funke smiled.

After the meeting ended, everyone drifted back to their departments.

Except Zai.

“Can you stay for a minute?” Raymond asked.

She stopped.

“Of course.”

Once the room emptied, Raymond leaned against the worktable.

“You’ve grown in just two weeks.”

“I’ve learned a lot.”

“You’ve done more than learn.”

He looked at her sketches again.

“You’ve started trusting yourself.”

She smiled.

“I’m trying.”

“You know…”

He folded his arms.

“…when I started LuxeThread, nobody believed an African luxury brand could compete internationally.”

“What changed?”

“I stopped designing for approval.”

He looked directly at her.

“I started designing for conviction.”

The sentence landed somewhere deep inside her.

Nobody had ever explained ambition that way.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me why I wanted this career.”

Their eyes met briefly.

Then someone knocked.

The spell broke instantly.

It was Raymond’s assistant.

“Sir, your car is ready.”

He checked his watch.

“I completely forgot.”

He looked back at Zai.

“We’ll continue this conversation another time.”

She nodded.

“Have a good evening.”

“You too.”

That evening, Raymond drove to dinner with Adanna’s father.

The older man, Chief Nnamdi Eze, was a respected businessman whose opinion carried weight in Lagos.

As dinner progressed, conversation shifted from politics to business.

Then the Chief looked at Raymond.

“I’ve been hearing good things about LuxeThread.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“And about one of your new designers.”

Raymond paused.

“Oh?”

“The young lady from Surulere.”

He glanced briefly at Adanna.

She was calmly cutting a piece of grilled fish.

Nothing in her expression revealed surprise.

“My wife mentioned she’s talented.”

The Chief smiled.

“Talent is a blessing.”

He lifted his glass.

“Make sure you build people.”

He looked directly at Raymond.

“Not dependencies.”

Raymond forced a smile.

“I understand, Sir.”

But for reasons he couldn’t explain…

…the words followed him all the way home.

Later that night, after Raymond had fallen asleep, Adanna quietly entered her home office.

She opened her leather notebook.

Under the page titled Observations, she added another line.

Raymond still believes influence is harmless when his intentions are good.

She closed the notebook.

Then she looked out of the window at the quiet streets of Ikoyi.

“This is how it always begins,” she whispered to herself.

“Nobody plans to cross the line.”

Engagement Question

Do you think emotional affairs begin with attraction, or do they begin the moment one person becomes the source of another person’s confidence and validation?

To be continued…