The Soles Of Damini Manor

EPILOGUE

Kanyin

Seven years later...

"Wake your ass up! Your flight is in an hour," Yvonne yells, slamming the door as she walks into our apartment.

I groggily wipe my eyes with my fingers transforming my vision from blurry to vivid as I take in her sky blue air hostess uniform. It consists of a knee-length dress that hugs her curves in all the right places coupled with a scarf around her neck that match the color scheme of her uniform with black medium-heeled shoes.

"You're back early," I groan, sitting up on the large sofa where I fell asleep while searching for design ideas for my tedious boss last night.

Working as a design sourcing assistant for Vogue isn't as simple as I expected. Climbing the corporate ladder seemed easy when I was younger, but each step I take always has a hurdle I have to face, from being an intern to being promoted to the design department.

"Of course. I've been on the move for four days straight. I need a long nap," Yvonne complains, slipping off her shoes and planting herself on the sofa next to me, ruining the elegant low bun she has on as loose strands escape the black bun.

Stretching as I yawn, Yvonne throws me a disapproving look.

"What?" I question, running my fingers through my curls.

"You know how punctual Kola is. If he gets to the airport way before you do, he's going to be really pissed," she reminds me.

She doesn't need to tell me twice. I'm hopping off the sofa in a split second, hurrying to my room. It's still surreal that I got my dream apartment in Manhattan with a first-row view of the bustling cityscape and its urban rhythm. My gaze from my floor-to ceiling-window lands on the pedestrians walking across the sidewalk, their urgency palpable from where I watch above. The loud honking of the yellow taxis and the distant sirens of the subway all add to the city's vibrancy.

I throw the first comfortable yet stylish outfit in my wardrobe before bidding Yvonne goodbye as I attempt to beat my overly punctual brother to the airport.

"You're late," he says, not looking up from the sheets of papers in his hands as I reach where he's seated at our boarding gate.

I wrap my hands around his shoulders. "Calm down, we board in ten minutes. All is well," I assure him.

He frees himself from my hold, still not used to physical contact, and probably never will. It doesn't bother me as much now that he has left his hard rock shell. My brother, who could never stand social interactions, is in his fourth year of his bachelor of fine arts in drama at Juilliard. It's so unbelievable how someone who hated being in the spotlight did a one-eighty and spends most of his time meeting new people and gathering attention.

He folds the sheets of paper into his backpack as we get called to board.

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" he asks, joining the first-class boarding line.

I follow behind him, shifting my Birkin handbag from my left shoulder to my right. "It's obviously a girl. Either way, I hope I give off rich aunt vibes," I say, wiggling my brows at Kola who ignores me.

I may not have seemed excited this morning when Yvonne woke me, but the closer we get to Lẹ́kò, the more anxiety builds up in my belly in anticipation. Deb gave birth last night, and Kola immediately booked us both tickets to see her at the hospital. But we plan on surprising her, hence why we didn't ask for the gender of her child when her fiancé, Frank, gave us the news.