A beautiful evening - by Oluwadamilola Adesina

Pelumi sent me some pictures via the green app. Her fiance's parents met with her parents to officially kick start wedding plans. I smiled and replied, “Iyawo, we have a wedding to plan.” She replied, “Yes my chief.” She had always wanted me to be her chief bridesmaid. The wedding would be later in the year. Two weeks later, Daniel, her fiance who is also a good friend of mine, told me he wanted to propose - to get down on one knee and give her a ring and I’m to be the chief planner. We decided to do it on her birthday, May 18. Planning it wasn’t easy. It had to be a surprise, but also something very her — quiet, intentional, no loud display, no unnecessary attention. A fancy restaurant would have been ideal, but Lumi doesn’t really go out, and we dreaded the idea of strangers taking pictures and making her uncomfortable. So we settled on something simpler — a small birthday gathering at her house where she lives with her parents. Earlier that day, we took her out for her hair and pedicure, under the guise of birthday pampering and we even bought her a dress. She had no idea how far we had gone to make the day feel special. We got a cake, small chops, drinks, and even arranged a DJ to play soft music. There were Will You Marry Me helium balloons, rose petals, candles — everything set to feel soft, intimate, and intentional. By late afternoon, panic started, the DJ's sound started disappointing. In the middle of the panic, I had to step in and sing instead. Somehow the vulnerability of a live voice made everything feel even more emotional and alive. By 6 p.m., we were all ready. I was wearing a black dress scattered with red rose petals across the fabric, paired with gold heels. My makeup was fresh and minimal — soft, effortless, just enough to match the mood of the evening. Candles were lit. Balloons floated softly around the room. Roses were scattered across the floor. The space felt warm, almost unreal. Then she stepped in. She saw everyone at once — friends, familiar faces, all waiting quietly for her. The surprise hit her immediately, written all over her face. We shouted happy birthday Pelumi And then her eyes found him. He was standing beside the Will You Marry Me balloons. The room went still for a moment. My voice carried the quiet reverence of the room as I sang The Best Part by Savy Henry. Right there, he went down on one knee and slipped the ring onto her finger. And then everything broke beautifully at once — cheers, laughter, tears, congratulations. Phones and cameras to take pictures and videos filled the room. The<a class="tc-blue external-link" href="https://room.The" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank"> </a>atmosphere shifted into a warm celebratory hum of eating, drinks and low happy chatters. I kept singing, probably enjoying it a bit too much. The DJ had finally gotten something right, backing me with a soft, cinematic piano instrumental. I moved from Johnny Drille’s Bad Dancer to Ed Sheeran’s Perfect, and finally, the timeless notes of TuFace’s African Queen. Love was heavy and sweet in the air. While most eyes were locked on the newly engaged couple, I noticed a steady, focused gaze on me from the edge of the room. At some point I finally stepped away to get a drink. That was when he walked up to me. “Hi. Would you love to dance?” I smiled. “I’m the singer… who will sing for me if I decide to dance?” He didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll sing.” I laughed. “I’m not much of a dancer, please.” “But you sing so beautifully,” he said. I shook my head lightly. “This is my friend’s proposal, I have to be at my best.” He was tall, with an easy smile that showed bright white teeth. He wore a brown physiotherapy T-shirt with Get Fit printed on it, beige trousers, and black sneakers with white soles. A neatly trimmed beard framed his face, and there was a calm confidence in the way he spoke. He said he almost didn’t make it because he had a patient on the Island for private practice—physiotherapy was his first love, and the second was showing up for his friends. It made sense; he and Daniel shared a history that ran deep—eight years since their university days, and the last three years spent working side-by-side as colleagues. He talked easy and made jokes, I laughed, and he did too, like it was the simplest truth. Around us, the MC called for a game and people shifted again, laughing and cheering. We stayed at the edge of it, watching and talking as the DJ finally found his rhythm again. At some point, we danced — not properly, just enough to move with the music while still talking and laughing. Then time moved again, as it always does. Like Cinderella’s midnight, I had to leave because I had work the next day. He followed me out into the cool of the night in the parking lot. “I didn’t ask for your name,” he said, holding out his phone for me I looked at him, then at the phone, then smiled. The air between us was electric. I met his gaze leaving his phone right where it was “There’s a beauty in meeting a random stranger and enjoying a beautiful evening without knowing their name or exchanging contacts.” I murmured, my voice soft and teasingly deliberate. I gave him one last unforgettable smile “Bye.” And I didn’t wait. I got into my cab and left.

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