The reluctant vow

"You know your father has made the decision. That's final."

Zara's eyes widened in disbelief as her mother's voice echoed through the living room, sharp and unwavering. "So nobody cares about me or my dreams? Not even my happiness?"

Mrs. Tunde stood still, arms folded across her chest. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, like she was trying to stay calm, but the tension between them was too thick to ignore.

"I don't love Regan. I don't even know him!" Zara burst out, voice trembling as she stood in the middle of the room, her fists clenched by her side.

"You don't need to know him or love him." Mr. Tunde's deep baritone cut through the air as he stepped into the living room. His expression was unreadable-cold, commanding, final. "All you need to know is that the marriage is happening. You, Zara Tunde, are going to be the wife of Regan Kareem."

Zara felt her chest tighten. Her legs wobbled beneath her. "You can't do this to me," she said, almost in a whisper.

"We already have," her father replied bluntly. "The Kareems have been our business partners for over two decades. This marriage is not just a union between two people, Zara. It is a merger. A consolidation of trust, legacy, and power."

Zara's mother looked away, as if she didn't want to witness the way her daughter's spirit was being crushed. But she said nothing. That hurt Zara the most.

"I'm not some pawn you can move around," Zara snapped, trying to hold back the tears stinging her eyes. "I'm not an asset to trade!"

"But you are," her father replied without flinching. "As long as you bear my name, you are part of the business. And this is bigger than your childish dreams of catwalks and cameras."

Zara's face dropped.

Childish dreams? Was that what they thought of her?

She stormed upstairs without another word, refusing to let them see the tears rolling down her cheeks. Her feet pounded against the steps, matching the thunderstorm inside her chest. Once inside her room, she slammed the door shut and collapsed onto her bed, letting the sobs take over.

Minutes passed.

The silence in her room was suffocating. The ticking clock on the wall mocked her helplessness with every second. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. When she unlocked the screen, a single notification lit up her world:

"Congratulations! You've been selected as one of our top finalists. The final show will take place in a few months, and if successful, you will represent Nigeria in Paris as part of the Elite Global Runway program."

Zara screamed. Loud.

It was a raw, uncontrollable burst of excitement. She shot up from the bed, staring at her phone in disbelief. Her hands trembled. Her tears had turned into laughter-relieved, giddy laughter.

She clutched her phone to her chest.

Her dream was real. Not just a fantasy she played over in her head. The biggest modeling opportunity she'd ever prayed for had come knocking. She was one of the finalists. She still had to compete in the final show, but this was more than hope-it was a door cracked open.

Before she could bask in the joy, the door to her room flew open.

"What is wrong with you?" her father's voice boomed as he entered, frowning.

Zara froze, phone still in her hand. His eyes landed on it, then narrowed.

"What are you smiling at?"

She swallowed, heart thumping in her chest. "They picked me," she whispered.

"Who picked you?"

She held out the phone. "The modeling agency. I've been selected as one of the finalists. The final event is in a few months, and if I qualify, I'll go to Paris."

Mr. Tunde's eyes darkened. He stared at her like she had said the most ridiculous thing on earth.

"You're not going anywhere."

"Daddy, please-"

"I said you're not going!" His voice thundered. "Are you out of your mind? Do you think you'll be parading your body around in front of strangers while my name is attached to yours?"

Zara's chest caved in. Her joy shattered, piece by piece.

"I've worked for this," she whispered. "I've worked so hard. You've never even asked me what I want."

"You're not a child anymore, Zara. You need to stop dreaming and start accepting reality. And your reality is that you are marrying Regan Kareem in a few weeks."

"But-"

"If you disobey me," he interrupted coldly, "then I will disown you. Simple."

Zara's throat went dry. The weight of his words crushed her.

Her father turned around and left the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Zara sat on her bed, phone still in her hand, but the light in her eyes had dimmed. The email still glowed on her screen, but it no longer brought comfort.

This was the choice she had to make: chase her dream and lose her family, or give up everything she had worked for and marry a man she didn't know.

Her fists curled tighter around the phone.

She refused to let it end like this.

The house felt quieter than usual, but it wasn't peaceful. It was the kind of silence that carried weight-unspoken words, wounded pride, and burning disappointment all wrapped into one. Zara had barely slept the night before. Her body had collapsed into bed, but her mind had wandered restlessly, dancing between hope and helplessness.

The email still sat open on her phone. She had read it more than a dozen times. Each line, each sentence, carried the promise of freedom, of escape. A chance to start fresh, to step into the world she had dreamt of since she was a teenager. Yet that future now clashed with the one her parents were forcefully designing for her.

Downstairs, the hum of conversation floated up to her room. Footsteps echoed off the polished tiles, followed by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Zara slowly sat up, her heart thudding with anxiety. She could already sense what was coming.

The door creaked open without a knock.

"Zara, come downstairs," her mother said, standing in the doorway. Her tone was calm, too calm, like someone who had already made peace with a painful decision.

Zara swallowed. "Why? What now?"

"There's something your father wants to say."

Zara's stomach twisted, but she obeyed. As she stepped into the living room, she spotted her father, seated with his legs crossed and an unreadable expression etched into his face. A second later, she noticed the two men seated across from him-one older, distinguished in agbada, with a calm but watchful demeanor. The other was younger, tall and dark, dressed in a sharp suit with his eyes focused on the marble floor.

Chief Kareem and Regan.

Zara's feet froze.

Her heart kicked into overdrive.

What were they doing here?

Mr. Tunde cleared his throat. "Zara, sit."

She hesitated, then slowly lowered herself into the nearest armchair, her eyes flicking briefly toward Regan before shifting back to her father. "What's going on?"

Her mother remained standing, arms folded.

"We've decided," her father said. "The engagement will happen next week."

Zara's breath hitched.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

"You didn't even ask me," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You already know what's expected of you," her mother added. "This is a union of honor."

Zara turned to Chief Kareem, her expression unreadable. "And you're okay with this too?"

Chief Kareem smiled faintly. "It's not about being okay or not, Zara. This marriage-this alliance-was planned with you and Regan's best interests at heart."

Regan remained silent. His posture was stiff, his jaw tight.

Zara's eyes flashed with resentment. "So that's it, then? No one cares what I want?"

Her father's voice hardened. "You will marry Regan Kareem. End of discussion."

"No," she snapped. "Not unless it's on my terms."

Everyone turned to look at her.

Mr. Tunde raised a brow. "Terms?"

Zara stood, suddenly fueled by an inner fire. "Yes. I'll marry Regan. But only for a year. One year. If after that, we don't fall in love, we walk away. No questions asked. No hard feelings."

A tense silence followed. It was as though the air had been pulled from the room.

Chief Kareem blinked slowly, studying her.

Regan finally lifted his eyes and looked directly at her. For the first time.

There was something unreadable in his gaze-curiosity, perhaps even amusement.

Her father shot her a warning look, but Chief Kareem held up a hand to stop him from speaking.

"If those are her terms," Chief Kareem said calmly, "then so be it. One year."

Mr. Tunde's head snapped to the side. "Kareem-"

"Let the children decide the rest," he said.

Zara didn't breathe. Her mother stared at her like she'd just committed treason.

But Regan simply nodded.

"One year," he said. "Agreed."

The living room buzzed with stifled tension. Chief Kareem's deep voice floated in and out of Zara's consciousness as he discussed "family values" and "merging legacies" with her father. Regan sat across from her, back stiff, eyes occasionally glancing her way, unreadable as always.

Zara's fingers twitched in her lap. She couldn't breathe in here-couldn't think straight. With a polite smile that barely masked her frustration, she excused herself.

"Excuse me, I need to get something upstairs," she muttered, not waiting for permission.

Once in her room, she locked the door behind her, slumped onto the bed, and grabbed her phone. Her heart beat faster as she pulled up her messages, scrolling until she saw the email again-the one that had flipped her world upside down just hours ago.

Congratulations Zara Tunde, you have been shortlisted as one of the finalists for the House of Aramé Model Search. The final selection will take place in three months. Prepare to bring your A-game.

She stared at it again, letting the words soak in. This was real. She had a shot. A real shot.

Her thumb hovered over Kemi's contact. She tapped it.

"Kemi," she whispered once the call connected.

"Zara? What's up? You sound like you just ran a marathon."

Zara didn't waste time. "Kemi, you remember the modeling competition I applied for?"

"The House of Aramé one?" Kemi said quickly. "Yeah, of course I remember! You've been obsessed with them since forever."

"They picked me," Zara said, voice trembling. "I got an email. I'm one of the finalists!"

There was a pause-and then a shriek so loud Zara had to yank the phone away from her ear.

"Zara! Oh my God! Are you serious right now?!"

"Yes!" Zara laughed, her first real laugh in days. "It's happening, Kemi. I just don't know how I'm going to pull this off with all this marriage drama. You should see my house right now. Regan is here. With his father. My parents are practically planning the wedding already."

"Wait-what?" Kemi sounded horrified. "The Regan? He's there? As in your future husband that you didn't even pick?"

Zara sighed. "Exactly. They're all downstairs talking about legacies and alliances and all that crap. Like I'm some pawn on a chessboard."

Kemi hissed. "This is insane. But listen, you got that email for a reason. You can't just drop your dreams because they want you to play house with some random rich boy."

"I'm not dropping anything," Zara said, her voice hardening. "In fact, I want us to start putting things in motion now."

"What kind of things?"

"Photoshoots. A portfolio. Maybe an Instagram page that looks clean and professional. I want them to see I'm serious."

"Say less," Kemi replied. "I'll speak to Lola-she has that camera, right? We'll start this weekend."

A knock sounded at the door.

Zara's breath hitched.

"Someone's at the door. I need to go."

"Okay, but Zara?" Kemi's voice softened. "You've got this. We'll figure it out."

Zara ended the call, slid the phone under her pillow, and walked to the door, calming her breath. She expected her mother-or maybe even her father, coming to drag her back to the parlor. But when she opened it, she was met with an entirely different face.

Regan.

Tall, composed, his expression unreadable as usual. But there was something different in his eyes this time-something sharper. Amusement? Curiosity?

His eyes flicked to her phone on the bed, then back to her face.

"I was just coming to check if you were alright," he said smoothly. Then, after a beat, he added with a slight smirk, "Modeling, huh?"

Zara froze.

Her stomach twisted. He heard.

Before she could respond, Regan gave a casual shrug and turned, his voice floating down the hallway as he walked away.

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me... for now."

Zara is left stunned. She doesn't know what Regan intends to do with what he heard-or if he'll use it against her. The power dynamic between them just tilted, and now, she's not sure which side he's really on.