For Black
women living
beautifully
on purpose.

The wedding invitation, promising "Emerald Elegance," rested deceptively still beneath Feyi's perfectly manicured nails. It was a cruel joke, given she wasn't on the guest list. Yet, thanks to a well-placed source, it was hers. She despised Tolu, but the lure of his wedding was irresistible. She wouldn't just attend; she would arrive, unannounced, a living spectacle designed solely for him to stare at. Was that the only motive, though? Was it truly worth it?

Kemi and Tolu's union was a quintessential Lagos Old Money affair, buzzing with more pedigree and performative wealth than genuine affection. This was the kind of wedding where "eye service" was paramount — a grand outspending war between two families who, much like Romeo and Juliet, detested each other but reveled in public displays of class. Millions of naira spent on a six-tier cake and elaborate aso ebi were the real objectives. This marriage, Feyi knew, would be inherently shaky. You could marry a bad husband, but bad in-laws? It was a different kind of hell.

Feyi wasn't there for the jollof rice, the cake, the music, or to catch the bouquet. She had one singular agenda.

Eko Hotel was bathed in green uplighting. It was so dreamy and surreal in the hall. Beautiful white roses sat in tall fluted vases, the table numbers were in gold frames, the gold chargers, champagne flutes and ceramic plates oozed opulence. There were two live bands with their instruments on opposite ends of the hall. Whoever planned this wedding must have charged an arm and a leg.

The official aso ebi was custom material from Austria — four hundred thousand naira for six yards. The matching head tie and mandatory clutch were not included in the price. The bridesmaids wore feathered tulle outfits with sequins, reminding Feyi of a certain bird. Peacock, maybe. The Instagram Influencers were there with their ring lights. Aunties competed silently over who wore their aso ebi best.

In the midst of the wedding activities, Feyi walked in.

"She walked into the hall like it belonged to her, and maybe, just maybe, it did."

No one noticed her at first. She was a classy girl — she never walked into anywhere with drama. Her dress was beautiful, a dark emerald lace, and her head tie looked more like a crown than a head wrap. Her bodice hugged her and the sleeves flared into dramatic bell cuffs. She neither waved nor smiled. She walked into the hall like it belonged to her, and maybe, just maybe, it did.

"Who invited her?" hissed Toke, a bridesmaid, elbowing Kika, the bride's friend. Kika did not answer. She was too busy watching the groom's face.

Sheila Unachukwu, bridesmaid and certified Lace Snob of Lekki, almost choked on the Moët she was sipping. "The fabric is not from the supplier — where did she get that fabric from?"

"It is custom dye," Kika replied.

"The bride paid four hundred and fifty kay for four yards," Sheila replied, rolling her eyes.

Tolu froze mid-laugh when he saw Feyi. The champagne flute in his right hand trembled. The groomsman beside him whispered something. Tolu did not blink. He was the man Feyi had once loved. He hurt her badly. He last saw her at her mother's funeral, four years ago. She didn't say a word to him. She walked out of his life and came to Lagos. He had not seen her until now.

Feyi chose a table in the back, not too far from the food. She opened her purse and pulled out a hand fan — green, gold-trimmed, hand painted lace. She began to cool herself with one flick. Her perfume, floral and sharp, wafted into the air. Some guests turned; some sneezed; some aunties began to mutter prayers under their breath.

Kemi watched Feyi from the high table. She did not take her eyes off her until she noticed Tolu's frozen expression. She grabbed his hand. It was like a spell that broke — he smiled at her. She squeezed his hand a little too hard.

Feyi saw that. She didn't flinch.

One bridesmaid, Gozee, leaned to Kemi and whispered, "Kemi, I had a dream. I saw someone wearing green — a fantastic looking attire. But in the dream, the lace moved. I just saw someone who fits that description here."

"Please dream about something else. It is my wedding," Kemi scoffed.

Her eyes did not leave Feyi.

Feyi leaned back and whispered to herself.

"Let the show begin."