The studio lights were too bright.
Shemmy blinked once as she adjusted in her seat, fingers resting lightly on her lap. Across from her, cameras were already set. Crew members moved quickly, checking angles, adjusting microphones, whispering final instructions.
Everything felt controlled.
But nothing felt safe.
Ruth stood just off set, phone in hand, eyes sharp.
"Five minutes," she said quietly.
Shemmy nodded.
Beside her, Daevyd sat still. Not stiff. Not tense. Just focused.
But she knew him now.
She could feel it.
Everything was calculated.
Everything was being held in.
"You ready?" she asked softly.
He glanced at her.
"Yes."
She studied his face for a second.
"Don't shut me out in there."
That made him pause.
Then he nodded once.
"I won't."
That was enough.
The host walked in a moment later. Calm smile. Professional energy. The kind that didn't change no matter what storm was brewing behind the scenes.
"Thank you both for coming," she said.
"Thank you for having us," Daevyd replied.
Shemmy said nothing. She was watching.
Reading.
This wasn't just an interview.
This was positioning.
"Thirty seconds," a crew member called out.
Ruth moved closer, lowering her voice.
"Remember," she said, eyes on both of them, "don't chase their questions. Control your answers."
Shemmy nodded.
Daevyd didn't respond, but his focus sharpened.
Ruth stepped back.
The countdown started.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The red light came on.
"Good evening," the host began smoothly. "Tonight we're joined by two of the most talked-about names in Lagos right now…"
She continued, setting the stage, mentioning TechWave, the recent breach, the leadership concerns, the media storm.
Shemmy felt every word.
Not because it was new.
Because it was now public.
Live.
No filters.
"Let's start directly," the host said, turning to Daevyd. "There are claims that you've lost control of your company. Is that true?"
Straight to it.
No delay.
Daevyd didn't flinch.
"No."
The answer was simple.
Clean.
The host didn't smile this time.
"Then how do you explain the internal breach?"
Daevyd leaned forward slightly.
"By saying exactly what it is. An internal issue that is already being handled."
"Handled how?"
"By removing the people responsible."
Shemmy felt the shift in the room.
That line carried weight.
The host picked up on it immediately.
"So you're confirming there was betrayal inside your company."
"Yes."
"And is it true that members of your own board are involved?"
A pause.
Small.
Measured.
Then
"Yes."
The word landed hard.
The host turned to Shemmy.
"Your name has also been dragged into this situation. Some say your association with TechWave is affecting your brand. What's your response to that?"
Shemmy didn't rush.
She sat up slightly, her voice steady.
"My brand was built before TechWave, and it will stand after this. What's happening right now is pressure. That doesn't change who I am or what I've built."
The host watched her carefully.
"But your studio was destroyed."
Shemmy held her gaze.
"Yes."
"And you still stand here confidently?"
"Yes."
A small pause.
Then she added,
"Because what they destroyed was a space, not the work."
That shifted something.
Even the crew felt it.
The host leaned in slightly.
"There are also rumors that this relationship," she gestured lightly between them, "is affecting business decisions."
That question carried something else.
Not just curiosity.
Doubt.
Shemmy glanced at Daevyd.
Then answered first.
"My relationship doesn't weaken me. It makes me clearer about what I want."
The host turned to Daevyd.
"And you?"
Daevyd didn't hesitate.
"She doesn't distract me. She sharpens me."
Shemmy didn't expect that.
Not like that.
Her eyes shifted to him.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
The host continued.
"There are also reports of a possible leadership vote. Can you confirm that?"
Daevyd's expression didn't change.
"Yes."
"And the outcome?"
"That depends on how many people are ready to stand on truth instead of pressure."
Careful.
But strong.
Then the host paused.
Looked at her notes.
Then back at them.
"This might be the most important question of the night."
Shemmy felt it immediately.
The shift.
The weight.
"Are you both prepared for the possibility that this could all fall apart?"
Silence.
Not long.
But real.
Shemmy answered first.
"Yes."
The host looked at Daevyd.
"And you?"
He turned his head slightly toward Shemmy.
Then back.
"Yes."
But then he added,
"But it won't."
That wasn't confidence.
That was intent.
The interview wrapped minutes later.
No dramatic ending.
No applause.
Just a quiet "we're clear."
The red light went off.
And just like that
It was done.
The studio relaxed.
Crew members moved again.
Phones came out.
Everyone already checking reactions.
Ruth rushed over.
"That was good," she said quickly. "Very good."
Shemmy exhaled slowly.
Her body finally catching up.
Daevyd stood up.
But before he could say anything
His phone buzzed.
He checked it.
Then frowned.
"What?" Shemmy asked.
He turned the screen toward her.
A message.
Unknown number.
Again.
"Nice performance."
Her chest tightened.
Another message followed immediately.
"Now let's see what survives it."
Shemmy looked up at him.
"That doesn't sound like it helped."
"No," Daevyd said quietly.
"It means we just stepped deeper into it."
Outside the studio, the night air felt different.
Heavier.
More real.
Shemmy wrapped her arms around herself slightly.
Daevyd noticed.
He stepped closer and pulled her into him without thinking.
She didn't resist.
Didn't speak.
She just held on.
For a moment, everything else faded.
The cameras.
The pressure.
The noise.
Then he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"We're not done," he said quietly.
"I know," she replied.
But neither of them moved immediately.
Because deep down
They both felt it.
The next move wouldn't come from them.
And whatever came next…
Would hit harder.