The Price of Visibility

Winning changed something.

Not inside Zai.

Around her.

By Tuesday morning, people who had never spoken to her suddenly knew her name.

The receptionist smiled the moment she walked in.

“Good morning, our star designer.”

Zai laughed.

“Please don’t start.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’ve become famous.”

“If this is fame…”

She held up her nearly empty transport card.

“…it needs to start paying transport fare.”

Both women laughed.

Inside the studio, a photographer was setting up lights.

“What happened?”

Amaka whispered.

“The company newsletter.”

One of the marketing staff replied.

“They want pictures of the competition winner.”

Zai blinked.

“Nobody told me.”

“They’re telling you now.”

An hour later, she stood in front of a plain white backdrop wearing one of LuxeThread’s latest pieces.

The photographer adjusted his camera.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You look like you’re defending your final-year project.”

Everyone laughed.

He took several photos.

Then asked,

“Can you hold your sketchbook?”

She did.

“Now look at the camera.”

“No.”

“Look at your drawing.”

Click.

Click.

Click.

“There.”

He smiled.

“That’s the real one.”

As the session ended, Raymond happened to walk past the marketing department.

He slowed for a second.

Not because of Zai.

Because the framed competition dress stood beside the backdrop.

He admired it again.

One of the photographers noticed him.

“Sir.”

“Would you like one picture with the winner?”

The room became quiet.

Raymond smiled politely.

“No.”

He shook his head.

“This achievement belongs to her.”

“Not me.”

He continued walking without stopping.

Zai watched him leave.

She understood exactly why he had declined.

And somehow…

That made her respect him even more.

Unfortunately…

Not everyone interpreted it the same way.

Two employees from Accounts had seen the exchange.

“He didn’t even take a picture.”

The other replied,

“That’s because people are already talking.”

“You think something is happening?”

“I don’t know.”

“But when people suddenly become careful…”

“They usually have a reason.”

Later that afternoon, Adanna reviewed the draft of the company newsletter.

On the final page was Zai’s interview.

One answer caught her attention.

What inspires your work?

I believe clothes carry memories. Years later, people may forget what happened on a particular day, but they often remember how they felt wearing something meaningful.

Adanna read the sentence twice.

Then smiled.

She picked up her phone.

“Connect me to Marketing.”

A voice answered.

“Good afternoon, Ma.”

“I’ve reviewed the newsletter.”

“Yes, Ma?”

“Don’t shorten Miss Adebayo’s interview.”

“Leave it exactly as she wrote it.”

“It’s honest.”

That evening, Zai received a message from an unknown number.

Congratulations on winning the competition.

Your interview reminded me why I started loving fashion.

Keep creating.

A fellow designer.

No name.

No profile picture.

She smiled.

Sometimes encouragement from a stranger felt surprisingly powerful.

She replied.

Thank you. I appreciate it.

No response came.

She locked her phone and slipped it into her bag.

She never imagined…

That someone else had sent the message.

Not to manipulate her.

Not to flirt.

But to see one simple thing.

Whether praise would make her curious enough to start looking for the person behind it.

Engagement Question

If someone anonymously encouraged your work without asking for anything in return, would you leave it at “thank you,” or would you try to find out who they were?

To be continued…