LACES & STRINGS FULL SERIES EPISODE ONE TO TEN

PROLOGUE

Laces & Strings is a story about breaking free. It follows Témì, a woman who has spent years doubting her worth, tying herself down with the weight of others’ opinions. She has lived a life of seeking validation, bending over backward to earn love from people who only trampled on her in return.

But one moment changes everything—forcing her to see herself in a new light. For the first time, she begins to recognize her own value, finding Love that truly appreciate her . Yet, she still lives among the same people who once made her feel small. Now, she must navigate this new journey of self-worth while standing firm in a place that once broke her. Can she truly redefine herself in the eyes of those who never saw her for who she was?

This is a journey of self-love, confidence, and the courage to start over. If you’ve ever felt like you weren’t enough, this story is for you.

EPISODE ONE

I know better than anyone that this won’t be easy. But I’m ready to walk through it.

For years, I poured my heart into people who barely gave me anything in return. I accepted scraps of love, leftovers of affection, as though I didn’t deserve more. I laughed it off, convincing myself it was enough. Lol. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.

Then came Tade—the worst of them all. The one who made me see myself for who I really was. Or rather, who I had allowed myself to become.

Three months of being with him, I began to notice something: people treat you the way you treat yourself. I had spent so long accepting the bare minimum that it became my reality. But then, one day, everything shifted.

I was at a conference, just another event I attended out of obligation. The educator on stage spoke about self-worth, and as I listened, something in me cracked open. It wasn’t their words alone—it was the weight of realization pressing down on me. Right there, in that room full of strangers, I finally understood.

I had been settling.

Not just in love, but in everything. My friendships, my career, the way I let people speak to me, dismiss me, treat me like I was an option rather than a choice. And the worst part? It was my fault.

I doubted myself for so long that I let others do the same. But I see it now, and I’m ready to fix it.

That night, I got home, picked up my phone, and sent the text.

“Hi Tade, these last few months were for us to get to know each other, and now I do. Deep down, I know you’re not the man I want to spend the rest of my days with. Thanks.”

I hit send.

Seconds later, my screen lit up with his reply.

“Ok.”

Not even “Okay.” Just “Ok.”

And in that moment, I knew—I had made the right decision.

But I wasn’t hurt. Not even a little.

I was free.

For the first time in my life, I was truly happy. Because I had finally found myself.

EPISODE TWO

There were three women who always sat at the gatepost of my office building. They worked in the same company as me, and every morning, they were my first point of contact.

Each time I walked past them, I would drop to my knees—both knees—to greet them. It didn’t matter if they acknowledged me with warm smiles or ignored me completely, leaving my greeting hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence. I still did it. And on the days they snubbed me, it hurt.

But now, I know better.

It wasn’t just unprofessional to kneel in a corporate firm—it was unnecessary. A reflection of how little I thought of myself. So that morning, as I approached them, I simply bowed my head in greeting and kept walking.

The shock on their faces was almost comical. I didn’t need to turn around to hear the whispers that followed me. I could feel their eyes trailing my back, confusion thick in the air. I laughed it off.

Not my business. Not anymore.

When I stepped into the office—a space filled with over twenty people—I did something different. Normally, I would greet each person individually, making sure I was seen, acknowledged, validated. But today?

“Good morning, everyone.”

Simple. Direct. No excess.

The reaction was immediate. Some people responded, others didn’t. And for the first time, I was perfectly fine with that.

I didn’t need their validation.

I wasn’t that girl anymore.

I am Témì Otégbayò.

I am finding myself. Loosening the laces and strings that have held me down for too long.

—

During lunch, I kept to myself. No unnecessary conversations, no mindless gossip, no distractions. Just me, my thoughts, and my food.

Then came Tara.

She walked over, standing in front of me like she had done countless times before.

“Temi, you will follow me to the bank after work today.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. The old me would have immediately agreed, no second thoughts. I was that girl—the one you could call on anytime, the one who never said no.

But now? Now, I was me.

I looked up, gave a small smile, and said, “Tara, I would have followed you if you had told me earlier. But I already have an appointment after work.”

She stood there, staring at me, processing my words. Seconds passed before she finally responded.

“Oookayyy…”

There it was. The realization. The recognition of change.

She noticed it. They all would.

EPISODE THREE

I woke up to his text.

Dapo. My so-called “office boyfriend,” as he casually liked to call himself.

No “Good morning”, no “How was your night?”—just straight to the point.

“Hey babe, can you bring me food today?”

That was it.

I stared at my screen, and for the first time, a thought hit me—Are we even courting?

Why was I giving a man who didn’t even know what we were husband-level benefits?

I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. Not today. Not ever again.

I got up, dressed for work, and this time, I made a statement.

High-waisted palazzo pants, flowing effortlessly with each step. A vintage silk shirt tucked in just right. My shades sitting perfectly on my face. Hair neatly packed into a sleek bun. Confidence woven into every detail.

By the time I walked into the office, heads turned. Eyes trailed me, silent whispers filling the air. I could feel the shift—the way people were taking me in like they had never truly seen me before.

And then, he showed up.

Dapo.

His timing was impeccable, as always, arriving just in time for the food.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his usual smirk in place.

“Hi, Dapo.”

He blinked. A flicker of confusion crossed his face.

“Dapo?”

“Yeah, wasn’t that your name?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

He let out a short laugh. “Thought… you do call me babe.”

“Are you my babe?”

Silence.

For the first time since I had known him, he had nothing to say.

He cleared his throat. “Ohh, I came for the food.”

I leaned against my desk, arms crossed, and gave him a polite smile.

“Ohh, no food.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“I couldn’t combine dressing this good with cooking for a friend.” I let the last word sink in before adding, “Sorry, but not sorry.”

Another pause. A longer silence this time.

Then he finally asked, “What is going on?”

I smiled.

“Nothing.”

Dapo stood there for a moment, staring at me like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. He wasn’t used to this—me, standing my ground. Me, not playing along.

Then, with a small chuckle, he ran a hand over his beard and shrugged.

“Alright then,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “See you around.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

I watched him go, feeling something settle inside me. This was new. Different. And I liked it.

—

The workday moved by in a blur, and by the time closing hours rolled around, I had almost forgotten about Dapo. Almost.

He found me as I was packing up my things, leaning casually against the doorframe of my office.

“Témì, let’s talk.”

I sighed, zipping my bag shut. I could already guess where this was going.

“About?”

“About whatever is going on with you,” he said, giving me a look. “You’ve been acting… different.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do.” His lips pressed into a thin line before he gestured toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

I hesitated for a second, then nodded.

We walked in silence through the corridor, making our way outside to the office garden. It was quiet, the air cool against my skin. A few employees sat on benches, lost in their own conversations, but for the most part, it was just us.

Dapo stopped beside a trimmed hedge, turning to face me.

“So?” he prompted, crossing his arms. “What’s this all about?”

I arched a brow. “What’s what about?”

He exhaled, clearly trying to be patient. “Témì. One minute, we’re cool, and the next, you’re acting like I’m just some random guy. No ‘babe,’ no food, no nothing. What changed?”

“Nothing changed,” I said

He scoffed. “Come on.”

“I’m serious, Dapo. Nothing changed. I’m just… setting boundaries.”

His brows knitted together. “Boundaries? With me?”

“With everyone,” I corrected. “I’m realizing I’ve been giving too much of myself in ways I shouldn’t. And I need to stop. It’s not about you, it’s about me.”

He studied me for a moment, as if trying to figure out if I was joking.

“So, what does that mean for us?” he asked eventually.

I gave him a small smile. “It means we can be friends. Real friends. No strings, no blurred lines, no expectations.”

Dapo let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Wow. Okay.”

“Yeah.”

He looked at me again, longer this time, then nodded slowly.

“Alright, Témì. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Another pause. Then, with a smirk, he took a step back.

“Damn. And here I was, thinking I’d be getting lunch every day for the rest of my life.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing softly. “Not aymore, Dapo. Not anymore.”

I knew I’m just finding my path. Loosing every laces & strings that had me bound.

EPISODE FOUR

I was just stepping out of the office to get some water when I heard them.

Dapo’s voice was unmistakable, laced with amusement. I wouldn’t have stopped if I hadn’t heard my name.

“E be like say Témì don dey wise o.”

My body went still.

“Why you talk so?” his colleague asked, laughing.

“Guy, you no see am? She no bring food today. That one na serious upgrade.”

They burst into laughter.

“Omo, I knew what I was doing,” Dapo continued, his voice full of smugness. “Just show her small care, call her babe, and food go dey steady. Free lunch every day. Save my money. Simple strategy.”

His friend wheezed with laughter. “Chai! Women and their mumu button.”

Something inside me should have cracked. Maybe a few weeks ago, it would have.

But now?

Now, I felt nothing but satisfaction.

I had made the right choice.

Without waiting to hear more, I walked away, my head high, my heart steady.

—

After work, I decided to treat myself.

There was a small cafeteria not too far from my office, one I had passed several times but never bothered to enter. Today, I did.

The smell of freshly made jollof rice and grilled chicken filled the air, warm and inviting. I placed my order, then leaned against the counter, scrolling through my phone.

“Hi, beautiful.”

I glanced up.

A man stood beside me, dressed sharply in a fitted shirt and dark jeans. He carried himself like someone who was used to easy wins.

“Hey,” I replied, polite but distant.

“I’m Samuel,” he said smoothly.

“Témì.”

“Nice name,” he said, then, without hesitation, “You should come over to my place sometime. Let’s hang out.”

I blinked.

No pretense, no fake lead-up. Just a straight-to-the-point invitation, like he expected me to say yes without question. He wasn’t rude. He wasn’t aggressive. But there was something so entitled about the way he said it, as if it were a foregone conclusion.

The old me might have hesitated, might have laughed awkwardly, might have come up with an excuse just to avoid looking difficult.

But the new me?

I smiled—warm, but firm. “No, thank you.”

He looked surprised. “Oh. Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

No explanation. No apology. Just a simple, clear, undeniable no.

I collected my food, nodded at him, and walked out.

As I stepped into the evening air, I felt something settle in my chest.

I had just mastered the art of No.

EPISODE FIVE

Change is loud—loud enough that even silence can make people uncomfortable.

By the next morning, the office air was thick with whispers, and I could feel them cling to me like perfume I didn’t ask for.

As I walked in, holding my bag and minding my business, I heard it again.

“Na she be this?”

“Hmm, she don dey form now.”

“All this her new attitude, make she no overdo o.”

I ignored them, as usual, but their voices followed me like shadows.

At lunch, I took the seat by the window—alone, peaceful, intentional. That was when I caught the drift of their conversation from two tables behind me.

“Make she just misbehave one day,” one of the women from the gatepost said.

“We go reset her brain for am,” another added, snapping her fingers.

“This her new change, she think say she fine pass everybody?”

I didn’t turn around.

I didn’t flinch.

I simply chewed my food slowly, letting their threats roll off me like water off a polished stone.

What they didn’t know was that this version of me wasn’t built on shaky ground anymore.

This was a woman who had found herself—and once you find yourself, you don’t lose sleep over people who never found theirs.

—

That week, the company buzzed with bigger news.

A new Managing Director was resuming.

A young, brilliant man with a reputation for discipline and high performance—Mr. Akinwale Akínlójú.

His arrival felt like a shift in atmosphere. Shoes clicked differently, chairs straightened up, nobody wanted to be caught being unserious.

The morning he walked in, tall, dark-skinned, tailored suit hugging his frame like it was stitched from his shadow, the entire office straightened.

I kept my composure.

No excitement.

No unnecessary greetings.

Just a polite nod as he passed.

But I caught it—

The slight pause in his steps.

The way his eyes scanned me.

Not in the way men sometimes look at women.

No.

This was different.

He saw my calmness.

My quiet confidence.

My boundaries.

My discipline.

Something about it made him stop for a second longer before he continued into his office.

He didn’t speak to me.

Not yet.

But the look said enough.

He noticed me.

Not the old me—the girl who sought approval in every corner.

No.

He noticed the woman rising gently, refusing to apologize for her own growth.

The whispers of my colleagues didn’t matter.

Their threats didn’t touch me.

Because beneath their gossip, something else was beginning to unfold—

A new chapter. A new dynamic.

And someone new was paying attention.

EPISODE SIX

The new MD called for a general meeting on Friday morning.

Everyone rushed into the boardroom—perfumes loud, shirts ironed, pretence everywhere.

You could feel the eagerness in the air; everyone wanted to impress him.

Funke especially.

Funke was the queen of “notice me.”

Before the MD even arrived, she had cleared a seat beside herself, applied lip gloss three times, and kept flipping her braided wig like she was auditioning for a hair commercial.

When the MD walked in—calm, confident, fully in charge—Funke practically lit up.

“Good morning, sirrrr,” she sang, stretching the sir like she was in a choir.

He nodded politely and kept walking.

Meeting started.

Every question he asked, Funke’s hand flew up first.

She answered everything—even questions nobody asked her.

At some point she laughed loudly at his joke that wasn’t funny.

Nobody joined her.

But the MD barely glanced her way.

His focus kept shifting… to me.

“Miss Témì, what do you think about this?”

“Miss Otégbayò, do you agree with the projections so far?”

“What’s your take on repositioning the brand?”

Each time he called my name, the room stirred.

Eyes rolled.

Necks stretched.

Whispers flew.

But I remained calm.

I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

I wasn’t performing.

I was just… me.

Quiet.

Reserved.

Composed.

I spoke only when necessary, and when I did, it was clear, confident, and thoughtful.

When the conversation shifted to company branding, I hesitated—just for a second—then spoke.

“Branding isn’t only about visual identity,” I said.

“It’s the emotions your customers feel. It’s the experience they remember. If we want to grow, our internal culture must reflect the image we want the world to see.”

The room went silent.

The MD leaned forward, watching me like he was discovering something rare.

“That,” he said slowly, “is exactly the mindset we need.”

A small smile tugged his lips.

“Brilliant perspective, Miss Otégbayò.”

Funke’s face tightened like a screwed bottle cap.

—

By Tuesday, the announcement came:

Temitope Otégbayò has been appointed as the new Brand Manager.

I read the memo twice.

My heart didn’t race.

I didn’t scream.

I didn’t run around telling people.

I simply breathed.

Deep.

Steady.

Grateful.

The office, however, erupted.

“Ah! She don dey date MD!”

“This one no be ordinary promotion o.”

“MD don fall for her calmness.”

“No wonder he dey call her every minute!”

I walked past the whispers, the stares, the jealousy.

Let them talk.

Because I knew the truth:

I wasn’t appointed because of flirting, noise-making, or attention-seeking.

I was appointed because I finally became the woman who believed in her own worth.

And the world was simply adjusting to it.

EPISODE SEVEN

Becoming Brand Manager felt like stepping into a new version of myself—one I had been slowly growing into without even realizing it.

I handled tasks with clarity, made decisions with confidence, and spoke with a voice I wasn’t afraid of anymore.

And the MD noticed.

Not loudly.

Not publicly.

But in the subtle ways leadership sees people who carry quiet excellence.

Two weeks into the role, he sent me a message:

“Dinner tonight? Business discussion. I’ll pick you at 7.”

My heart skipped, not from romance, but from the unexpectedness of it.

But I replied calmly.

“Yes, sir.”

—

At exactly 7PM, a sleek black car pulled up in front of my gate.

Not a loud luxury car—just one of those expensive ones you only see with people who don’t need to prove anything.

He stepped out, dressed in a fitted suit, smelling like deliberate success.

“Good evening, Miss Otégbayò.”

“Good evening, sir.”

He opened the door for me.

The night felt like a gentle movie scene.

We drove to an elegant restaurant—dim lights, soft jazz, polished glasses, and menus without prices.

We talked about branding, the company’s future, internal culture, and strangely—life outside work.

He was different.

Calm like me.

Focused.

Thoughtful.

No noisy ego.

No unnecessary charm.

Just presence.

After dinner, he drove me home.

We sat in front of my gate talking, lost in the softness of the moment.

At exactly 8:59PM, I interrupted the conversation politely.

“Sir, I don’t take calls or keep long conversations past 9.”

He blinked, then smiled.

“Discipline. I respect that.”

When I stepped out of the car, I could feel the beginning of something—slow, familiar, and calm.

—

In the weeks that followed, he became more open with me.

Told me he was the only son of the company’s owner.

That the pressure on him was heavy.

That he lived a quiet life, preferring peace over noise.

We grew close—not fast, not rushed—just naturally.

Three months later, it happened without drama:

We were dating.

No pressure.

No gossip-fueled excitement.

Just two quiet souls finding ease in each other.

And it felt right.

—

One Monday morning at the office, everything shifted.

The accountant barged into the MD’s office, his voice panicked.

“Sir! We have a problem. A very big one.”

The MD frowned. “Calm down. What is it?”

“Someone forged the company signature… and withdrew money.”

Silence dropped like a stone.

My heart stopped.

The MD stood slowly, tension rising in his jaw.

“Prepare everything. We start an internal investigation immediately.”

And just like that, peace evaporated.

Something dark had entered the company.

And none of us had any idea how deep it would go.

EPISODE EIGHT

The investigation dragged into days—long, tense, heavy days.

I kept working quietly, answering every question asked of me, giving every document they requested.

I had nothing to hide.

But the whispers began.

Soft at first…

Then sharp…

Then poisonous.

“It’s Temi.”

“Check her.”

“She just became brand manager—too fast.”

“Maybe she’s dating the MD for a reason.”

I ignored them.

Until the morning everything shattered.

—

I was called into the CEO’s office.

Not the MD—

His father.

The man whose name carried the company’s weight.

He didn’t offer me a seat.

He didn’t greet me.

He slid a file across the table, his face like carved stone.

“Miss Otégbayò, evidence shows that you are involved in the recent fraud.”

My mouth fell open.

“Sir? I don’t understand. I’ve never—”

He slammed his hand on the desk.

“Enough!”

Before I could breathe, two security men walked in.

The MD rushed in behind them.

“Dad, no! Temi can’t do this. I know her. She’s disciplined, focused—”

“You’re defending her because you’re in love with her,” the CEO snapped.

“And love has made you weak.”

The words cut deeper than the accusation.

I stood there, numb, watching everything I had worked for slip through my fingers like ash.

“Escort her to the interrogation unit,” the CEO ordered coldly.

“And relieve her of her position immediately.”

The MD tried one last time.

“Dad, this is wrong—”

“One more word, and I’ll suspend YOU.”

Silence swallowed us.

Then they handcuffed me.

Right there.

In front of the man I loved.

In front of staff whispering, eyes wide, hungry for scandal.

My heart broke.

But worse—

I saw the helpless pain in his eyes.

—

The interrogation room was nothing like the movies.

It was colder.

Darker.

Crueler.

The officers weren’t looking for the truth;

they were looking for a confession.

“Where is the money?”

“Who helped you?”

“Talk!”

My answers were steady at first.

Then shaky.

Then drenched in fear.

They accused me of stealing ₦500 million—money I had never even seen in my life.

Hours passed.

Questions turned to slaps.

Slaps turned to blows.

Pain blurred into dizziness.

“Confess!”

“I didn’t do anything…”

I repeated it until my voice cracked.

Until my throat felt like sand.

Until the room spun like a broken carousel.

Eventually, fear tore through my body like fire.

Then everything went black.

—

I woke up in a hospital room.

White walls.

IV drip.

Bandaged wrists.

Lips cracked.

My head throbbed.

My body ached everywhere.

The MD sat beside my bed, eyes red, fists clenched, guilt heavy on his face.

He whispered my name like it hurt him to say it.

“Temi… I’m so sorry.”

And even in my weakness, one truth echoed through me—

They were trying to destroy me for something I knew nothing about.

EPISODE NINE 

The hospital room was dim and sterile.

My head throbbed.

My body screamed from bruises and exhaustion.

But I was awake.

Barely.

Then the door slammed open.

The CEO walked in.

Not calm. Not apologetic.

Furious.

His presence swallowed the room.

He didn’t sit.

He didn’t even glance at the doctors.

He fixed his gaze on me like I was the source of all his problems.

“You!” he spat, voice sharp enough to cut metal.

“You ungrateful girl! Do you know what you’ve done to this company?”

I tried to lift my head, but my body betrayed me.

He continued, stepping closer.

“You think you can just rise above everyone? Steal from me? Steal from my company?”

I shook my head weakly.

“I… I didn’t…”

“You lie!” he roared.

“You’ve dragged my name through the mud! You’ve embarrassed my son! You’ll pay for this!”

I could feel the room spinning.

The fear was heavy.

The rage in his eyes almost physical.

I swallowed hard.

I refused to cry.

I refused to beg.

“You’re wrong,” I whispered, faintly, voice breaking but steady.

“I didn’t do anything. I’m innocent.”

He leaned so close I could feel his anger burning me.

“You’re going to rot here if it’s the last thing I do!”

Then, almost as quickly as he arrived, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

The doctors exchanged nervous glances.

I laid back on the bed, chest heaving, trembling from adrenaline.

I hated him for that moment.

Hated the power he wielded.

Hated the world that allowed him to come into a hospital and speak to me like I was nothing.

But deep inside, a strange calm settled.

I had survived worse than words.

And this—this threat—wouldn’t break me.

Soon after, the police came for the transfer.

But I carried his words with me—not as fear, but as fuel.

Because now, I knew:

I wasn’t the same girl who bent to anyone.

I was Temi.

And the fight for my life—and my justice—was just beginning.

EPISODE TEN

The second time I opened my eyes, the room wasn’t white.

It was grey.

Concrete walls.

Rusty metal door.

Cold floor.

They had taken me back.

The moment I regained consciousness in the hospital, they transferred me straight into the interrogation unit again—like my pain meant nothing.

And the torture continued.

Day after day.

Night after night.

Questions.

Threats.

More blows.

More pressure.

Sometimes I felt my spirit floating above my body…

watching a version of me I barely recognized.

I stopped crying.

Stopped begging.

Stopped explaining.

My silence terrified them more than my pain ever did.

But I had nothing left.

—

Then everything shifted.

The door swung open, and the officer in charge stepped in.

His tone was different—calmer, almost cautious.

“Miss Otégbayò… stand up. You’re being released.”

I blinked.

Slowly.

Not trusting my ears.

But a female officer gently helped me up and guided me out of the interrogation room.

They didn’t put handcuffs.

They didn’t shout.

They didn’t drag me.

Instead, they led me down a quiet corridor—

straight to the Inspector General’s office.

—

The moment the door opened, I saw them:

The company’s HR head, the CEO’s legal team, and an officer with a file in his hand.

They all stood up when I walked in.

HR rushed toward me, worry written from head to toe.

“Temi… the real culprits have confessed.”

He passed the file to the IG.

The IG opened it and read out the names clearly:

Funke.

The accountant.

Dapo.

Four other staff members.

They had planned it together.

Stolen the money.

Forged signatures.

Pinned it all on me.

The legal representative exhaled sharply.

“We are deeply sorry for what you’ve gone through. The company has taken full responsibility for your transfer to a private clinic. Everything is arranged.”

I felt my chest loosen.

The room didn’t spin anymore.

Relief.

Clean and quiet.

—

Two officers escorted me outside the building.

Waiting beside the company car was my MD.

He didn’t rush toward me.

He didn’t touch me.

He just stared, frozen—

eyes red, fists clenched, breath unsteady.

When our eyes met, something in him cracked.

“Temi…” he whispered.

His voice trembled.

They opened the car door and helped me in.

He entered beside me, silent the whole ride—

but his presence spoke louder than words.

—

The company took me straight to a private clinic.

Soft sheets.

Clean air.

A real bed.

When I woke up again, the room smelled of flowers.

Beside my bed were:

fresh lilies, my reinstatement letter and an envelope.

He was sitting quietly, elbows on his knees, staring at me like he was afraid I was a dream.

When I opened my eyes fully, he leaned closer.

“I’m sorry, Temi.

I’m so sorry.”

His voice cracked.

“I didn’t protect you.

I failed you.

And I… I love you.”

Tears slipped from his eyes.

HR entered shortly after and placed the envelope gently in my hand.

“The CEO sends his apology. This is ₦10 million compensation. He wants you to take your time and heal.”

I lay back, breathing in the softness of the room—

the peace that finally returned to my body.

Bruised.

But alive.

Broken.

But rising.

And on that hospital bed, life handed me a new beginning and this time, I was strong enough to take it.