Bridges Of Lagos Part 3

Chapter Seven

Bridges Burned, Bridges Built

The days after that conversation felt like walking on a tightrope stretched over a stormy sea.

Adrian tried to keep his worlds separate, but the walls between them crumbled faster than he imagined. His father’s threats weren’t subtle anymore. Board members whispered about his “recklessness,” and the press started sniffing around Zara’s name, spinning stories that made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Zara, on her part, faced her own battles. Old friends questioned her choices. “Why chase a rich man’s shadow?” they asked. “You deserve better.” She hated how their voices echoed her own doubts.

One afternoon, she arrived at Adrian’s penthouse unannounced, heart pounding.

He opened the door, surprise and relief in his eyes.

“I can’t do this,” she said, voice cracking. “They want us to fail. To tear us apart.”

He pulled her inside, closing the door against the world.

“We burn bridges sometimes,” he said quietly, “but we can build new ones. Together.”

They spent the night talking, really talking, about fears, dreams, and everything between.

Adrian confessed how trapped he felt in his family’s expectations, how much he wanted a life that was *his*.

Zara shared her dreams of photography, of telling stories that mattered.

They promised to fight the whispers, the doubts, the judgments.

Not because it would be easy.

Because it was worth it.

Chapter Eight 

Light in the Dark

The nights in Lagos grew cooler as the harmattan winds whispered through the city, but inside Zara’s small apartment, a warmth bloomed that neither of them could ignore. It was quiet, subtle, like the steady glow of a candle in a dark room, fragile, yet defiant.

Adrian had started showing up more often, not just at her door, but in her world. He learned the names of her neighbours, asked about her favourite street food, and even began carrying her camera gear without complaint. The rich boy from Victoria Island was slowly becoming someone who belonged in Yaba, or at least, someone who wanted to belong.

One Saturday morning, Adrian surprised her with tickets to a photography exhibition downtown. Zara wasn’t sure what to expect. She wore her old favorite dress, the one with faint paint stains from editing nights, and they caught a danfo to the art gallery. As they stepped inside, the smell of polished wood and fresh paint greeted them, mingled with hushed voices and the soft clicking of cameras.

Zara’s work was displayed on one wall, her photographs of Lagos street life,moments of joy, struggle, and everyday beauty captured in raw, honest frames. She felt a flutter of nerves and pride when she saw a small crowd gathered, admiring her images. Adrian stood beside her, quiet but beaming, proud in a way that made her chest ache.

“This is amazing,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. “You see the world in a way I never could.”

For a moment, the noise of their outside worlds faded. It was just them, two imperfect souls wrapped in the fragile magic of shared dreams.

They walked through the gallery, stopping at each photo, sharing stories behind the shots. Adrian listened like every word was a treasure, and Zara found herself opening up in ways she hadn’t with anyone before.

Afterwards, they stepped out into the warm night, the city alive with lights and distant music.

They found a quiet rooftop nearby where the stars peeked through the city haze.

Sitting close, Adrian pulled out a small notebook. Inside were sketches and ideas for a photo project he wanted to start, a collaboration between them to capture Lagos beyond the usual luxury and headlines.

“Together,” he said, eyes shining, “we can tell stories that matter.”

Zara smiled, heart swelling. For the first time, the chasm between their worlds felt bridgeable.

But even as hope grew, the shadows around them lurked.

Late one night, after a dinner filled with laughter and shared dreams, Adrian’s phone buzzed insistently. He glanced at the screen, a message from his father, curt and cold.

Zara saw the flicker of tension ripple through him.

He tucked the phone away but didn’t speak.

She reached for his hand. “Whatever happens,” she said, voice steady, “we face it together.”

Adrian looked at her, a mixture of gratitude and fear in his eyes. “You’re my light in this dark,” he said softly.

They sat there, side by side, watching the city breathe below, knowing the battles ahead would be hard, but certain that with each other, they had found something worth fighting for.

Chapter Nine

Storm Before the Calm

The tension that had been simmering finally boiled over like a summer storm threatening to break the sky.

Adrian’s father was no longer subtle. There were meetings, ultimatums, and veiled threats masked as “family advice.” At work, his colleagues whispered about his “poor judgment,” and the media circus around Zara’s name grew louder.

One afternoon, Zara received a call from a well-known gossip blogger, fishing for scandalous stories about their relationship. She refused to answer but felt the sting of public intrusion deep in her bones.

Adrian, overwhelmed and frustrated, struggled to keep his promises. He avoided Zara’s calls for days, drowning himself in work and family demands.

Zara sat alone in her apartment, her heart heavy. Doubt crept in like a cold wind. Was their love strong enough to survive this storm?

When they finally met again, it was under the harsh fluorescent lights of a quiet café. Words spilled out, angry, hurt, fearful.

“You’re slipping away,” Zara said, tears threatening to fall.

“I’m trying,” Adrian replied, voice breaking, “but it feels like the whole world is against us.”

They looked at each other, the weight of impossible choices hanging between them.

Then Adrian took her hand. “I don’t want to lose you. But we have to decide, are we fighting for this, or are we letting go?”

Zara swallowed hard, hope and fear battling inside her.

“We fight,” she said firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

Outside, the storm finally broke, but inside, a quiet calm settled, a promise that no matter how fierce the winds, they would face them together.

Chapter Ten

The New Dawn

The morning sun spilled golden light across Lagos, painting the city in hues of hope and new beginnings.

After the storm, everything felt different, clearer, somehow lighter.

Adrian stood on the balcony of his family home, looking out over the city. The weight of expectations still lingered, but now it felt manageable. Because beside him was Zara, her hand warm in his.

She had spent the night here for the first time, a quiet rebellion against the rules that tried to keep them apart.

His father had called earlier, a voice less harsh, tinged with reluctant acceptance. The battle wasn’t over, but a door had opened.

Zara smiled softly, leaning into Adrian’s side.

“We did it,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, “we’re still doing it. Together.”

They talked about the future,  photography projects that would tell the real Lagos, plans to bridge the worlds they came from, and dreams that no longer seemed impossible.

Their love was no fairytale. It was messy, challenging, and real.

But it was theirs.

As the city awoke beneath them, full of noise and life, Zara and Adrian stepped into their new dawn, ready to face whatever came next, hand in hand, heart to heart.

The End….