The smell of pancakes, eggs, and slightly burnt sausage drifted from the kitchen and into the living room, where music from a cheerful kids' playlist was already playing low. I came downstairs barefoot, letting the sound of laughter guide me.
Mum stood by the stove in her pink apron, flipping pancakes with more flair than usual. Her braided hair was tucked into a scarf, and her face glowed with warmth and exhaustion. Dad was trying to plate the eggs while answering a phone call and nodding along like he actually understood what Peace and Patrick were rambling about on either side of him.
"Patience!" Mum beamed when she saw me. "Go wake Grandma before she gets cranky that we started breakfast without her."
"She's already up," I smiled. "She's on the phone with Aunty Ronke. Probably planning how to take over the entire party."
Mum rolled her eyes playfully. "As usual."
Just then, Peace came bouncing in, already dressed in a yellow cartoon-print dress. "Mummy, can I wear the glitter shoes today?"
"No glitter till after your makeover," Mum said firmly. "You'll be barefoot by 10 a.m. if you start dressing like a princess now."
Patrick zoomed in with toy swords again, making dramatic battle sounds. "And I'm going to be King Patrick today!"
"Better be a king that bathes," Dad muttered. "You're getting dressed in an hour."
I smiled as I sat down at the dining table, watching the family swirl around me like a living painting—bright, chaotic, familiar. My heart was full.
But I still couldn't shake the weight in my chest. That subtle ache that something wasn't… whole.
By 9:00 a.m., the doorbell wouldn't stop ringing.
Aunties in brightly coloured headwraps arrived in clusters, greeting with loud exclamations and arms full of food. Uncle Tayo greeted Dad with back-slapping laughter and clapped me on the shoulder as if I were one of the boys. Grandma took her place at the centre of the living room like the queen she believed she was, giving out instructions like a general in a war camp.
Cousins I have not seen in many years are present. Some ran around playing tag. Someone dropped a bag of puff-puff. Peace squealed. Patrick chased a balloon under the table.
And in the middle of the noise, the decorators arrived.
Three women in matching black T-shirts with "TeeEvents" printed on their backs swept in like a dream team. They opened boxes of balloons, string lights, and cartoon-themed banners. In under 30 minutes, the sitting room was transformed into a mini wonderland—complete with a dessert table, a throne-like chair for the twins, and a balloon arch in yellow and blue.
"Omo, this place is sweet o!" Tife ( Aunty Ronke last daughter) whispered beside me, eyes wide.
I smiled. "They deserve it."
Then came the photographer—a soft-spoken man with a camera that looked more expensive than anything in our living room. He began adjusting lighting stands and snapping test shots, nodding to himself.
Right on cue, the makeup artists arrived. Two women and one guy, rolling in a silver suitcase and a rack of kids' outfits.
"Who are the birthday celebrants?" the lady in front asked, already sanitising her brushes.
"Here!" Peace and Patrick chorused, running forward like they'd won a prize.
"Alright, let's glam you two up," she smiled. "And the big sister too?"
"Oh no, I'm not I already—"
"Yes, she is," Mum interrupted. "Patience, go upstairs. The other stylist is waiting for you. I want proper pictures of all my children today. You hear?"
I couldn't argue. Not with that "Mummy voice" she only used when she meant business.
Upstairs, I sat in front of a mirror as the stylist worked gently through my hair although it wasn't my plan just a simple gel styling with my afro was the best on my mind but this is how mummy wanted her daughter today, I had to enjoy it humming a worship song. Her hands were light, but my thoughts were heavy.
She curled and pinned and shaped until my hair framed my face like a soft crown. Another lady did my brows and a bit of foundation—just enough to glow, not enough to feel unlike me.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I barely recognised the reflection. The Patience in front of me looked peaceful, radiant, almost carefree.
But inside, I felt a strange pull. Like something invisible was moving beneath the surface of this perfect day.
A knock came at the door. "Ready for photos?" Peace called excitedly.
I forced a smile. "Coming."
I didn't know it then—