PERFECTLY IMPERFECT

DESCRIPTION 

She has the face card that turns heads, a body that stops traffic, and a career that makes everyone her age burn with envy. Add in Adra, her impossibly handsome boyfriend whom she loves to show off, and Eddy isn't just living her best life. She is living a life of pure perfection.

That flawless reality shatters when Adra unexpectedly serves her a cold, brutal heartbreak.

Refusing to be the victim, Eddy sets out on a mission to dish out the exact same pain she received. Her revenge takes an unexpected detour when she collides with a total stranger, a man who seems below her status and the complete opposite of Adra. She should walk away, but she finds herself helplessly drawn to him. This stranger sees right through her polished facade, and he is about to teach Eddy that she is Perfectly Imperfect.

When you think you are perfect, but all you've ever been is perfectly imperfect. 

CHAPTER ONE

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷ EDDY ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

“Is that all, ma’am?” the waitress asked, her grin stretching from cheek to cheek.

The night sky above us looked like God Himself had sprinkled handfuls of stars, each one twinkling shamelessly. Bright, colourful bulbs dangled from thin strings overhead, swaying lightly in the breeze and casting soft, romantic glows across the tables. It was the kind of scenery people posted on Instagram with captions like love lives here.

Adra had chosen well. An open-air restaurant in the heart of town, soft music by Banky W flowing from hidden speakers, laughter and clinking glasses filling the night. He hadn’t booked the whole place, but it didn’t matter. Just sitting here with him felt special, like the world had slowed down just for us.

“That’ll be all,” I said, arching my brows politely at the waitress. She turned and left, leaving me and Adra nestled in the rhythm of the night.

I reached across the round table, taking his hands into mine, feeling the dry heat of his skin against my cold, stiff palms. The air smelled of char-grilled meat, rich coconut rice, and the faint, sweet tang of his expensive cologne. 

“If I knew our first anniversary would be this sweet, I’d have said yes the moment you asked me out,” I teased, flashing a grin, the taste of red wine still lingering warm and fruit-heavy on my tongue.

“Eddy —”

“I’m serious.” My eyes roamed again over the restaurant, drinking in the sight of the fairy lights, the cool night air perfumed with fresh Jasmine and suya spices, and the happy couples sharing meals around us. I was a classy, independent woman, but sometimes it was nice to be spoiled too.

“Is this my gift? I wouldn’t have minded a diamond necklace or maybe a gold bracelet,” I laughed softly, the smooth silk of my gown rustling as I brushed my hair back from my cheek. “But honestly, this? This works. The effort counts. And it’s . . . romantic.”

“Eddy,” he said again, his voice dropping into a register that made the hair on my arms stand up.

I turned back to him fully. He looked handsome in that wine-coloured designer suit, the fabric hugging his shoulders like it had been stitched just for him. His dark skin glowed under the string lights, and his features were sharp and unbothered. The first thing that drew me to Adra was his build — those muscles, and the way he carried himself like he knew every woman in the room had looked twice. Sitting across from him now, my pulse quickened, a familiar coil of heat tightening in my stomach. If we were alone, I’d have dragged him across this table.

But his eyes . . . his eyes weren’t on me the way they usually were. They were flat, reflecting the yellow bulbs above like lifeless glass.

“Yeah?” I asked, raising my brows.

He leaned forward, fingers laced together on the table, his knuckles turning a rigid, bloodless pale, his expression unreadable.

“I didn’t bring you here as a gift. I. . . .” He hesitated, his throat working as he swallowed hard, the rough sound cutting through the smooth jazz overhead. “I didn’t even remember today was our first anniversary.”

My smile froze, the blood instantly rushing out of my face, leaving my cheeks burning hot while my fingers turned to ice. The music in the background suddenly sounded too loud, too cheerful, a sharp ringing buzzing inside my ears. 

“You didn’t?” I forced a laugh, but a tight band seized my chest, squeezing the air right out of my lungs. A bitter, metallic taste settled on the back of my tongue. This had to be a joke. “Then why bring me here?”

Adra looked around, his gaze darting nervously over the clinking of cutlery, as though searching for the right words on the faces of strangers. “I . . . how do I say this?”

“Just say it,” I snapped, folding my arms under my chest, pressing my elbows hard into my ribs to stop the sudden, violent tremor running through my frame. “You figured out how to say you forgot our anniversary. This shouldn’t be so hard.”

I thought of the five hours I’d wasted with Ebere and Gift, the suffocating smell of fresh leather and factory starch as we combed boutiques, my feet aching inside these stiff, towering heels as I searched for the perfect gown and the ideal shoes. For him. The fabric of the dress now felt heavy, abrasive, suffocating against my skin. And this was how he wanted to play?

“I’m breaking up with you.”

For a moment, the words didn’t even make sense. They just hung between us while the warm night air suddenly felt freezing against the back of my neck. My chest tightened so fast my body reacted on instinct, with my lips curling into a laugh — a loud, sharp burst that cut right through the soft background jazz and made two people at the next table turn around.

“S-sorry,” I stuttered, my voice cracking through the bitter giggle. “For a second, it sounded like you said you’re breaking up with me.”

“Eddy —”

“No one breaks up with me.” My laughter died instantly, replaced by a harsh, rising venom. “Nobody!” My chest heaved, disbelief clawing violently at my insides. “Why? What have I done?”

“Eddy, calm down,” he tried, his arm extending across the table, reaching for my hand.

I smacked his hand away so hard the crack echoed like a gunshot, making nearby heads turn. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! You wake up one day and decide to dump me? Just like that?!”

“I have reasons —”

“What reasons?!”

Adra shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening as the muscles along his cheek pulsed. “You’re too materialistic, Eddy. All you want is pizza, shawarma, and hot dogs.”

“What?”

“The other day,” he pressed on. “You told me to fly you to Dubai, just to take pictures and post on Instagram because you wanted Ebere to be jealous.”

I blinked at him, my mouth dry as Sahara dessert. That was his reason? That? “And what’s wrong with that? Johnson took her to Seoul. The girl has been rubbing it in since then. What did you expect me to do? We are in a jungle, Adra, survival of the fittest!”

His nostrils flared, exhaling a sharp, heavy breath. “That girl is your best friend. You live together. You eat together.” 

“And?”

He leaned back with a tired sigh, the chair groaning beneath him. “Okay, Let’s pretend the fake friendship doesn't exist. Eddy, every time I’m with you, all you do is twerk in my face. Last month, you even used my credit card to pay for a full-time gym membership. And you only go once a week, for less than an hour.”

I scoffed, a violent wave of heat rushing straight up to my cheeks. “So, what is this, point-out-Eddy's-flaws day?”

“Can you just listen to me?” His voice hardened, dropping into something that felt like how the north pole might sound like if it ever spoke. “I can’t do this anymore. I asked you out because you were gorgeous, yes. But I need more than gorgeousness. I need a wife, not . . . this.”

I leaned forward across the glowing candle, seething, my breath coming in hot, shallow bursts. “I work, Adra. Stop acting like I depend on you for everything.”

“See?” He threw his hands out in absolute frustration. “You’re so difficult. How do you expect to keep a man with this attitude?”

The words stung like a physical blow, a sharp, bitter tang filling my mouth. My hands curled into tight fists on my lap, my nails digging deep into my palms. “So, you’re breaking up with me.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second before he nodded slowly. “I planned to do this on Friday, but —”

“Friday’s my birthday!” My voice cracked, raw with rising rage. I glared at him so hard that if looks could draw blood, his soul would’ve left his body right there under those sparkling string lights. “You wanted to dump me on my birthday?!”

“Eddy —”

I shoved back my chair, the metal legs scraping loudly against the concrete, and stood up, snatching my designer purse from the table. 

“Best not to waste your money on a materialistic girl!” I spat, my voice trembling with a mixture of fire and venom. Whispers were spreading like wildfire across the patio now, every eye pinned on us.

Adra stayed seated, his dark eyes following me, his lips pressed into a tight, unbothered line.

I lifted my chin high, fighting the hot, pricking sting behind my eyelids. If there’d been a glass of red wine left on that table, I’d have emptied every drop over his perfect, arrogant head. Instead, I turned on my heels and walked away, the click of my high heels heavy with humiliation, fury, and heartbreak against the stone path.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Stepping out of the restaurant, I hugged my purse tight against my ribs and reached for my phone to book an Uber. One heavy drop hit my screen. Then another. Before I could even curse my luck, the drizzle turned into a furious downpour, the kind that made Lagos streets reek of wet, steaming dust and stale fried akara all at once. Where the smell of akara came from, I wasn't too sure. 

“Of course,” I muttered, rolling my eyes up at the dark clouds. “What a cliché way to end a miserable night. The girl gets dumped, and now she’s walking through the rain like a tragic Hollywood heroine. Perfect.”

My heel clipped a jagged stone on the curb before I could dodge it, and a sharp, blinding pain shot straight up my ankle. I winced, trying to shake it off, but heard a loud snap a second before my balance vanished. My face was halfway to kissing the wet stoned path, when strong arms locked around my waist and yanked me back up.

“You alright, ma?” His voice was low, muffled by the roar of the rain and something covering his face. I spun around to see half his head hidden beneath a battered red-and-white umbrella, the rest swallowed up by a damp hoodie and a black face mask.

Before I could pull away, he guided me toward the dry overhang of a shuttered shop. Raindrops drummed hard against the fabric overhead as he pressed the cool, plastic handle of the umbrella directly into my palm.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, his voice rising to cut through the deafening rush of the storm.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, my throat dry even though I was soaked to the bone. I tapped my dripping phone screen again. “I just need to book an Uber.”

“That could take forever in this rain,” his voice muffled, through the mask. His eyes flicked down to my feet. “And your heels are finished. I can help you flag down a Keke.”

“God forbid.” I hissed, wrinkling my nose as a wave of heat hit my face. The man standing in front of me wore faded jeans that had seen better decades and a black hoodie clinging tightly to his lean, muscular frame. He looked simple, rugged even, but not in the polished, high-end way I was used to.

“What about a cab?” he tried again, dragging his sleeve across his brow to wipe away a stream of rainwater.

“Is it safe?” I chewed the inside of my lip, the sour taste of fear mixing with my ruined lipstick. I wanted to go home, but not badly enough to end up on the morning news.

“Um . . . yeah!” he yelled over the thunder. “Faster and way cheaper. Where do you stay?”

“Castle Estate,” I said, already lecturing myself for giving my private address to a complete stranger. But after Adra’s nonsense tonight, stranger danger was honestly the least of my problems.

“That’s like three hundred naira with a local cab.”

“Three hundred what?” My eyes almost bulged right out of my head. An Uber would have wiped out twenty times that amount. Still, I lifted my chin, forcing a cold demeanor. “I don’t enter three-hundred-naira cabs.”

He swept a glance down the flooded road, using his palm to shield his eyes from the slashing rain. “You don’t have much of a choice.”

Before I could snap back, he dashed straight into the downpour, waving his arms like a madman at the yellow headlights cutting through the dark. I stood there under the umbrella, the smell of wet fabric filling my nose as I replayed the night’s disasters — Adra forgetting our anniversary, Adra dumping me, the sky drowning my pride, and now my seventy-five-thousand-naira designer heels in complete ruins. And to crown the entire circus, I was about to squeeze into a three-hundred-naira death trap.

Three hundred naira!

The stranger finally flagged down a rickety, rusted sedan and leaned into the window to bargain. He pointed back at me twice, and I caught the driver staring out at me through the blurry glass. My stomach knotted instantly.

When he turned around and beckoned with his arm, I let out a loud, dramatic sigh, grabbed my snapped heel in one hand, kept the remaining good shoe on, and shuffled forward under the battered umbrella.

“I’ve spoken to the driver,” the stranger said as I reached his side, the rain roaring against the metal roof of the car. “He’ll take you straight to your gate.”

I leaned down to peer inside and recoiled so fast my neck popped. The front passenger seat was occupied by two skinny men struggling to jam their sharp collarbones into one tiny chair. At the back sat an exhausted old man, a young girl in torn clothes, and a heavy-set woman holding a baby that was screaming at the top of its lungs.

“I’m . . . getting in there?!” My voice cracked in absolute horror.

“It’s safe,” he insisted, his dark eyes unwavering.

I scoffed. “Says the guy hiding behind a mask.” I gestured toward his face. “Don’t you know there’s still Covid? I’m not entering that.”

“Driver, abeg make we dey go if she no wan enter!” one of the men in front barked, slamming his palm against the dashboard.

The stranger rushed forward to pacify the driver, then spun back to me. “This is your last option. You won’t see another car on this road tonight.”

I glanced back at the crowded rear seat. The tiny sliver of pleather left for me was barely wider than a hardback book.

“Can’t you see I have a big butt?” I barked, pointing angrily at the microscopic space. “How do you expect me to fit there?”

“You’re not entering for comfort,” he shot back, his tone dropping into a sharp, unyielding edge. “And your hips and butt aren’t even that impressive.”

“What?!” My voice spiked, my jaw dropping open.

Ignoring my rage completely, he snatched the umbrella from my hand and yanked the back door open, using his body to shield me from the downpour. I glared, ready to tear him apart with my tongue, but when I looked down the pitch-black road, not a single pair of headlights broke through the curtain of water.

Maybe the rude idiot was right.

Sucking in a sharp, humiliated breath, I squeezed inside, immediately jammed tight between the damp fabric of the woman's lace top and the cold metal door, the baby’s piercing cries vibrating straight through my eardrums as the door slammed shut.

The stranger lingered for a second out in the storm, the red-and-white umbrella glowing softly under the amber streetlamp.

“Please, take her home safely,” he called out to the driver, his tone firm and commandingly steady.

The driver grunted a response, and before I could even get another look at his face, the engine sputtered and we rolled away. The stranger’s masked figure blurred into the heavy sheet of rain, swallowed completely by the night.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

The ride was torture. Pure, unfiltered torture.

The heavy-set woman beside me had her baby strapped tightly to her chest, and the little demon seemed to have chosen my face as target practice. 

First, her tiny, chubby legs kept kicking up directly into my chin. Every violent kick made my head jolt back, the skin along my jaw throbbing, while all the woman did was mutter a dry “sorry” like it was cheap perfume she could spray every two seconds to clear the air.

Then she decided to adjust the baby’s position, which only made the nightmare worse. Now the child’s face was tilted directly in my direction, her breath smelling of sour milk, and her curious, sticky fingers reaching out. She yanked hard at my dangling metal earrings like she was trying to pluck ripe mangoes from a tree, almost tearing my earlobes in two.

“Ouch! Madam, hold your pikin well abeg,” I hissed, my jaw clenching, but the woman just offered a tired, lifeless smile without moving an inch.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, the baby pursed her tiny lips and spat a spray of drool all over my cheek. My makeup was already ruined by the slashing rain outside, but now? It was a sticky, disgusting cocktail of lip gloss, mascara, and baby spit. What a glorious combination.

By the time the rickety cab finally jerked to a shuddering halt at my gate, I almost flung my body straight out the door.

I shoved a wet, crumpled five-hundred-naira note into the driver’s face. “Here. Just keep the change.”

He shook his head, refusing the bill. “That oga don pay for you.”

My brows knitted together, a sharp knot forming in my stomach. “Which oga?”

“The oga wey put you inside motor.” The man revved the sputtering engine and sped off into the dark, splashing a wave of dirty, muddy rainwater across my legs for good measure.

I stood there frozen in the drizzle, my seventy-five-thousand-naira heels ruined, my damp clothes sticking to my skin like ice, and my purse weighing heavier than my spirit. A truly perfect night.

Dragging my snapped heel in one hand, I stomped toward the gate, my jaw set, praying my ruined makeup hadn’t betrayed me completely. 

The flat I shared with Ebere and Gift, my so-called best friends, was tucked inside a multi-million-naira estate. Our home was neat, shiny, and paved with slick, milk-coloured tiles that could break your neck if you slipped.

I banged my knuckles against the heavy front door until it finally swung open. Ebere’s wide eyes took in the state of me like I was a soaked, drowned rat pulled from a gutter.

“Oh my God, Eddy!”

I hissed through my teeth and pushed right past her, taking deliberate, careful steps so I wouldn't lose my footing. My silk gown clung to my body like a cold second skin, and the single remaining high heel on my right foot made me limp across the polished floor like a wounded cat.

“What happened to you?” Ebere gasped, her eyes dropping down to the broken heel clutched in my trembling fist. “You look like a wet puppy that fell inside the gutter.”

“Thank you very much,” I shot back, my voice dripping with pure venom.

Before I could catch my breath, Gift emerged from the kitchen, balancing a blue ceramic plate with golden toast in one hand and a steaming mug in the other, the rich aroma of melted butter and hot tea filling the room. Her pink crop top and denim shorts made her look like she was posed for a sleepover photoshoot.

“A-ha! Eddy, what happened to you?” she asked, her dark eyes bright with mischievous amusement. “Didn’t you go for your anniversary? Abi, is it like birthdays now? Do they pour water and mud on somebody when they’re celebrating their anniversary?”

“How would you know?” Ebere snapped, turning her sharp gaze on her before I could even formulate a response. “When your own relationships don’t last longer than one week.”

“Don’t insult me!” Gift hissed, slamming her plate down onto the glass dining table with a loud clatter, then glaring daggers at Ebere.

I threw my head back and let out a long, dramatic hiss, loud enough to rattle both of my flatmates into silence.

“God will punish Adra!” I finally burst out, the words ripping from my throat as I slammed my purse down hard onto the couch cushions.

Gift froze mid-bite, the crisp toast hovering inches from her lips. Ebere stared at me like I had suddenly sprouted horns right out of my forehead.

“It will never be well with Adra and his entire generation!” I swore, my chest heaving, and my voice trembling with raw heat.

“Jesus!” Ebere gasped, jerking back a step. “What has he done to deserve these curses?”

“What has he not done?!” I threw my arms into the air, pacing frantically across the rug. My wet hair slapped cold against my flushed cheeks as I let out a laugh that was sharp, raw, and completely unhinged. “All men will suffer. What Adra did to me tonight will reach every single man’s hand. Mark my words!”

Gift squinted, her face twisting in utter confusion. “Wait . . . what did Adra do?”

“I wonder,” Ebere whispered, still looking genuinely stunned.

I wiped at my wet eyes with the back of my hand, my palm smearing what was left of my black mascara into dark, messy streaks across my face. Adra thought he could just serve me breakfast on a silver platter. Me, Eddy? No. The man was deluded.

Nobody breaks up with me. Nobody!

If I couldn’t get closure from that arrogant fool, then absolute revenge would do just fine. If transferring my heartbreak onto the entire male population was what it took to make me feel better, then so be it.

I rolled my eyes and reached down for my bag, ready to drag my pathetic, damp self into my bedroom and disappear under the thick duvet.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Ebere’s voice cut through the air. Of course, she was her forever sharp, nosy, and relentless self. She wasn’t about to let me slide past without getting the tea. In one swift motion, she blocked my path, standing right in front of me with her arms folded tight over her chest, and her eyes scanning my disheveled body like a stern policewoman. “Wait, did you just get dumped?”

My palms itched instantly. Only God knew how badly I wanted to plant a hot, stinging slap right across her cheek. Before I could even open my mouth to lie, Gift, the ever-annoying sidekick, bounced off her chair and joined Ebere, cornering me against the wall.

“Hold on,” Gift squinted at my smeared face with mock shock. “Did Queen Eddy just get her ass dumped?”

“Can you both just shut up?!” I snapped, the harsh words flying out of my mouth before I could filter them. “Stop making me feel ten times worse than I already do!”

Instead of backing off, they erupted into laughter. Actual, booming laughter.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Gift wheezed between chuckles, “the breakfast go soon reach everybody.”

“E-eh?!” Ebere’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets as she waved her hand frantically in the air. “Hold it right there! Which kind dirty talk be that one?”

“Abeg, free me joor,” Gift rolled her eyes, waving Ebere off. “Your mate dey break up, you dey inside relationship.”

Ebere completely chose to ignore Gift. She reached out, grabbed my wrist with her firm grip, and dragged my limp body back toward the couch I had just abandoned, treating me like a misbehaving, moody child. “Sit down first. Tell us every single thing that happened.”

Sandwiched between the two people I called my best friends, with their eager, expectant faces turned toward me like judges on a panel, my chest rose and fell in heavy bursts. I stared blankly at the dark TV screen, my throat tight, trying to find the words to describe the absolute disaster of my night.

“Can you believe that fool?” My voice cracked, raw and heavy with disbelief. “He forgot today was our anniversary.”

“Are you serious?” Ebere gasped, her mouth falling open in shock.

“He’s such an asshole!” Gift scrunched her face in absolute disgust.

“Exactly!” I spat, a sudden wave of relief washing over me as the bitter taste of betrayal yielded to validation that at least somebody understood. “He brought me to this fancy outdoor restaurant just so he could break up with me.”

Ebere shook her head. “It’s the audacity for me. Who does that?”

“I wonder!” Gift echoed with a harsh hiss of her own.

“Did he at least give you reasons?” Ebere pressed after a short, heavy silence.

I leaned back against the cushions, the memory stabbing me all over again as a fresh wave of heat flushed my cheeks. 

“He did.” I spread my hands in frustration. “He said I’m too materialistic. That all I do is eat pizza, shawarma, and twerk on his face.” My voice broke into a sharp, shrill screech. “Who even says that to their girlfriend?!”

“Didn’t he know he would spend money before asking a girl of your class out?” Gift added with pure venom. She grabbed her mug, the sweet aroma of milk and tea wafting into the air as she took a slow sip before throwing the dagger. “Like, what does he think you are? Some village girl that dances just because a guy pecks her lips and gives her flowers he plucked from the bush?”

The ridiculous comparison hit me like a physical knock to the head, my brows knitting as I glared at her in disbelief.

“Okay . . . that’s a stupid example,” Gift admitted, catching the fire in my eyes and shifting uncomfortably under my glare. “But you get the point. He spoke to you like you were living off his money.”

I smacked my hand against my chest, letting out a loud, bitter laugh that echoed off the walls. “He broke up with me. Me! Men will suffer for this!”

“Oh, here we go again,” Ebere muttered under her breath, clearing her throat loudly and averting her eyes to pretend she was deeply interested in the bare wall.

“Before men suffer,” Ebere said, standing up and reaching down to firmly tug at my damp hand, “I think you need to take a shower first. You’re dripping black mascara all over the cushions.”

She pulled me up from the couch, completely ignoring my verbal protests as the smell of stale rain on my dress followed us, and started leading me down the corridor.

“But you know men will suffer, right?” I pouted like a spoiled child, my throat tight as we finally reached my bedroom door.

“I know, I know,” she replied with zero sympathy in her voice, giving me a firm push forward.

The door shut with a final, echoing click, leaving me trapped in the quiet darkness of my room. My heart was still pounding wildly against my ribs, and my rage bubbled dangerously under my skin like hot oil in a frying pan.