“Sophia, you dey learn fast,” she said one morning, her voice gruff but warm. “If you continue like this, you go be better than me sef.” Sophia’s chest swelled with pride, a feeling so foreign it almost scared her. She clung to it, letting it anchor her against the chaos of the compound. But the chaos wasn’t done with her. That afternoon, as she swept the shop’s floor, Papa Doris appeared at the door, his grin wide and predatory. “Sophia, you no fit run from me forever,” he said, stepping inside. “This tailoring thing no go change wetin you be.” Her grip tightened on the broom, her voice steady. “I no be that girl again, Papa Doris. Leave me alone.” She held his gaze, her heart pounding but her resolve unyielding. He smirked, muttering something crude, but turned and left when Mama Ngozi’s voice boomed from the back, calling for Sophia. The encounter left her shaken, but it also sharpened her determination. She couldn’t stay in the compound, not with men like Papa Doris lurking, not with Oga James’ wife ready to pounce, not with her own body betraying her with memories of reckless nights. She needed a way out, and tailoring was her ticket. Days turned into weeks, and Sophia poured herself into her craft. She stayed late at the shop, practicing stitches, sketching designs on scraps of paper, dreaming of a future where she answered to no one but herself. Mama Ngozi noticed her dedication and began giving her small jobs—hemming wrappers, sewing blouses for customers. Each coin she earned felt like a step toward freedom. One evening, as Sophia locked up the shop, a woman approached her—a customer she’d seen before, elegant in a tailored dress that hugged her curves. “You sew this?” the woman asked, pointing to the blouse Sophia had finished that day. Sophia nodded, shy but proud. “It’s good work,” the woman said. “My name na Madam Florence. I get a boutique for town. You fit come work for me, learn more, maybe even sell your own designs.” Sophia’s breath caught. A boutique? In town? It was more than she’d dared hope for. “Thank you, ma,” she stammered, her heart racing. Madam Florence handed her a card with an address and a smile. “Come next week. Let’s see wetin you fit do.” That night, Sophia sat on her mattress, the card clutched in her hand. The compound was quiet, but she could feel its weight pressing in—Oga James’ longing, his wife’s rage, Papa Doris’ leering, her madam’s threats. She couldn’t stay here, not anymore. Tailoring had given her a glimpse of something bigger, a life where she wasn’t defined by her past or the whispers of neighbors. The next morning, she told her madam about Madam Florence’s offer. Her madam’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “Go, but no bring shame to me.” Sophia packed her few belongings, her heart light despite the uncertainty. She said goodbye to Mama Ngozi, who hugged her tightly. “You be strong girl, Sophia. No let anybody pull you down.” A week later, Sophia stepped into Madam Florence’s boutique, a bright, airy space filled with vibrant fabrics and the chatter of customers. She started as an apprentice, but her skill quickly earned her a place at the main sewing table. She worked hard, her designs catching eyes, her name spreading. For the first time, she felt like she belonged—not to a man, not to a compound, but to herself. Months later, standing in the boutique, Sophia watched a customer admire a dress she’d designed, its bold patterns a reflection of her newfound confidence. The ache that once ruled her was gone, replaced by a quiet pride. She thought of Oga James, Papa Doris, the compound’s judging eyes, and smiled. They were her past, but this—her needle, her thread, her dreams—was her future. And as the sun set over the city, casting golden light through the boutique’s windows, Sophia knew she’d sewn herself a beautiful new beginning. *The End😃* *Thank you guys for reading... what do you think about this story?* *Drop your review/ratings (1-10) _Be Honest please guys_*