Before I say I do - episode 5 - by Matilda🪷🫧

Final fitting. Amara stands on a small stool in the bedroom, her wedding dress now fully on, pins still tucked at the waist. Her mother fusses with the hem. Two cousins coo in the background. Amara’s face is a mask — perfect bride, miles away. MRS. ADEYEMI: “Beautiful. Just beautiful. Your father would have cried.” AMARA: (soft) “Yeah.” Her phone sits on the dresser, screen dark, but she keeps glancing at it like it might go off again any second. Cut to: the living room. Daniel paces, phone in hand, scrolling back through old messages trying to piece together who “K” could be. He stops on a name buried in an old group chat: Kemi. He stares at it. Something registers — a memory surfacing. DANIEL: (muttering) “Kemi…” He pulls up an old photo tagged from three years back — Amara at a university reunion, laughing next to a tall man with his arm loosely around her shoulder. The caption, faded with time: “reunion szn 🤍 @kemi_osei” Daniel’s expression shifts from confusion to something colder.Back in the bedroom, the fitting finishes. The cousins step out to give Amara a moment. Her mother lingers at the door. MRS. ADEYEMI: “You know, you can still tell me if something’s wrong.” AMARA: “Nothing’s wrong, Mummy.” MRS. ADEYEMI: (studying her carefully) “I carried you for nine months, Amara. I know wrong when I see it wearing a smile.” Amara’s composure wavers — just slightly — but she holds it. AMARA: “I’ll be okay. I promise.” Her mother nods slowly, unconvinced, and steps out, pulling the door gently shut behind her.Alone, Amara exhales, turns to the mirror and catches sight of her phone lighting up again on the dresser behind her reflection. She walks over. Another message from K:“I know it’s complicated. I know timing is everything. But if there’s even 1% of you that still thinks about that night, don’t marry him tomorrow without hearing me out first.” Amara’s hand trembles slightly as she reads it. She hears footsteps approaching the door. She quickly locks the phone and sets it down — just as Daniel pushes the door open without knocking, his face unreadable. DANIEL: “Kemi Osei.” Amara’s blood runs cold. AMARA: “…What?” DANIEL: “That’s K, isn’t it?” A long, heavy silence. Amara doesn’t answer — which is answer enough. DANIEL: (quiet, almost laughing in disbelief) “Wow. Okay. So we’re both doing this.” AMARA: “Daniel, it’s not what you—” DANIEL: “Don’t. Don’t say it’s not what I think. I said the exact same thing to you last night, and you didn’t believe me either.” Amara opens her mouth — closes it again. For the first time in two episodes, she has nothing to say. From the living room, muffled through the door, Mrs. Adeyemi’s cheerful voice carries on, oblivious, directing someone about tomorrow’s seating chart. Daniel looks at Amara — still in her wedding dress, pins at the waist, a stranger’s name glowing on the phone behind her — and steps back out, closing the door quietly instead of slamming it. Somehow that’s worse. Amara sinks onto the edge of the bed, dress pooling around her, and finally — for the first time since this all began — she looks less like a woman about to call off a wedding, and more like one who no longer knows which version of the truth she’s standing in.

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