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A sense of relief washed through her as she relieved her bladder. Soon after, she tore out a few rolls of tissue to clean herself up. In those few seconds, she heard the creaking sound of the door as it opened, and a few steps followed in.

"I'm telling you, she's not." The first female voice spoke up just as the steps eventually stopped.

"Are you sure? I thought Genevieve was a divorcee." The second female voice added, a little doubt laced in her voice.

At the mention of her name, she felt rather reluctant to get up as she had intended. She directed her attention towards the women beyond the door of the toilet she was in. Genevieve didn't want to listen, but circumstances forced her to do so. She endured without making a sound.

"Nope, she has never gotten married and I wonder if she plans to turn grey in her father's house." The first voice declared alongside a burst of mocking laughter in the end.

"Well, maybe she no longer has suitors because of all the success she has made. You know, I heard men don't like an overconfident and independent woman." The second added her piece and Genevieve still didn't utter a word to let the women know their topic of gossip was right behind them.

"Of course. She thinks she's better than everyone else because she was lucky enough to make it to the top earlier than most people. I bet she's lonely and desperate for a man in her life..."

The sound of the toilet being flushed interrupted whatever she had left to say and as the door opened, their gaze immediately shifted to it. The moment they sighted her walking out of the toilet towards the sink, right where they were, their eyes dilated in surprise, followed by a wash of guilt and embarrassment.

She spared them no glimpse, turned on the tap, washed her hands, walked past them, took out a few rolls of tissue to wipe her hands, and then calmly walked out of the restroom after depositing the used tissue in the nearest bin.

Once she was out with the door shut behind her, she stopped for a second and drew in a deep breath, releasing it at once to ease herself from any feeling of anger. Genevieve felt satisfied with herself for the way she handled the situation. Exchanging words with clueless women like them would be a waste of her energy. The truth will always be that she is better than them and they're simply jealous of something about her.

Accepting all that, she drew in another deep breath to boost her confidence before heading off towards her office.

As a branch manager in one of the best banks the country offered, it was no lie that Genevieve had achieved what most women couldn't have attained at thirty-seven years old. She was at the peak of her career and it would seem like she had it all, yet there was one thing she couldn't shake off. The talk of a life partner. There was no denying that time was fast against her and that simple fact made her a conversation topic for her surrounding acquaintances.

Her phone rang, and she looked at the caller ID. She felt exhaustion weighing on her, but she picked up the call, anyway.

"Good evening, mum." She greeted once she held the phone to her ear.

"Evening, dear. How's work going?" Her mother's voice came through.

"Okay." She gave a brief response.

"Well, I won't take much of your time. I just had to remind you that your younger brother's child dedication is the day after tomorrow, but you already know preparations start tomorrow, so you should spend the night home for the next two days."

A light frown surfaced between Genevieve's brows.

"Spend the night?" She repeated after her mother, and yet the idea didn't seem the least bit pleasant to her.

"Yes, of course. We need all the help we can get."

"Mum, I'm not spending the night home." Genevieve straight out spoke her mind. It was one thing to get gossiped about at work but taunted at home as well, by her mother, was a whole new level on its own; not to mention the fact that her younger brother was having his second child's dedication while she was yet to marry.

"Why, now? Isioma, I said we need your help and you're refusing." Her mother's words laced with disappointment as she called her daughter by her native name.

Genevieve let out a silent sigh as she shut her eyes for a moment. She felt a headache coming on and knowing her mother fully well, she was going to make her feel bad, but she simply wasn't up for one of her blackmailing tactics.

"I promise, I'll be there for the dedication, but I'm not sleeping over. I... I'll call you later, okay." She ensured and without waiting for a word more from her mum, she disconnected the call.

Mentally, she applauded herself for handling her mum properly. Her mother was a tough case and winning over her was harder than it seemed.

Later that night, by the time Genevieve walked into her apartment, she felt exhausted all over from being held up in traffic, then finally climbing up the staircase towards her one room, a living room and kitchen of an apartment. Cosy enough to her taste. She took off her jacket, sat in front of the mirror, and wiped the makeup off her face. Genevieve didn't have to bother with her hair since she wore a low cut and kept on the slightly curly side. She simply wore a shower cap over her hair after undressing and then headed off into the bathroom to have her shower.

For dinner, she made noodles as she was too tired to make something better. Seated at the table, she ate in the silence of her apartment. Right after, she washed the dishes and the moment she turned away, the lights went off.

"Shoot!" she grumbled at the usual method of cutting off the lights at whatever time it suited the electricity department. She was used to it, so it was no big deal, but the issue was how she would make her way to her room in the dark. Making use of her sense of touch, she finally found her way to her bedroom. Lying flat on her back in bed, she stared at the dark ceiling. Sleep wasn't forthcoming, and she needed the best rest she could get to handle the weekend fast approaching.

Slowly, her mind came to be filled with thoughts. At first, thoughts about work, but the memory of the ladies in the restroom flashed across her mind and it replaced her thoughts with worry, subtle sadness and a tinge of regret.

Yes, she had set her personal life on hold all these years as she built her career, but she never dreamt of not having a family someday. She recollected the two women, but one's statement in particular and couldn't help wondering... are men intimidated by a successful woman?

Her phone vibrated on the small bedside table as it blinked a few times and that was enough to distract her from her trailing thoughts. She laid on her side as she reached out for the phone.

'Are you awake?'

She read the message that popped up from the dating app she was on. Clicking on it, she opened to the chatting page. She bit her lower lip and for a moment; she debated on whether to reply, although the fellow on the other end was someone she had been talking to for nearly the past one month. Carefully, she thought through her every reply. She didn't want to pass herself as a desperate woman.

Drawing in a deep breath, she recollected the moment she considered checking out a dating site. Her mum had been breathing down her neck on the topic, taking advantage of nearly every opportunity she had to remind her she was turning forty in the next three years. No man wants an old wife, her mother would say. She recollected ignoring her words, in the sense that God's time was best, but she couldn't stop the thought of what if she grows old alone? What good would that do to her?

She remembered letting out a light chuckle at the detriment of her case. When she was in her earlier twenties, she had suitors come her way, but she was too busy to spare them a chance and eventually, they stopped coming. Funny.

'Yes,' She typed the reply on her phone and only after hitting the send button did she wonder if she should have said more.

'How was work today?' His reply came in earlier than she expected. She sat up on her bed and thought about her next careful reply.

'Okay, I guess. Yours?' She clicked the send button.

'Cool. Look, we've been chatting for nearly a month and I was wondering if you would like to meet in person since we live in the same country and city.' Reading that, her heart sank for a minute.

Meet in person. The words terrified her a bit, but it sounded like an okay idea. After all, she wasn't a fan of online dating. Circumstances carved out her present situation.

Having decided, she typed her reply, 'I'm cool with that,' and stared at her screen, waiting for his reply.

It popped in and instantly she read. 'Glad we agree. I'll check through on my schedule and let you know about my free days. You may do the same as well.'

She raised her eyes away from the phone to stare into the darkness of the room, as a brief and yet simple smile formed on her face.

Alexander James. That was the name she saw the first time she went through the site for a match. His bio matched her type of man. Intellectually capable. A medical doctor. Never married. Never divorced, and he was two years older than her. His work required attention, so does hers; therefore, he would be more understanding of her profession. The picture of him on his profile was not bad. She was not the type to be all about looks. Swallowing her pride, she chatted him up first.

Now she was glad she took that step.

'Cool.' She left her reply feeling good about her future and set the phone back on the bedside table. She laid properly once more and stared at the ceiling.

Everything is going to be alright. She encouraged herself and, faster than she expected, sleep took her along.

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