Dayo stepped out of the building with his phone still in his hand, thumb hovering over a message he had not replied yet. The conversation inside had run longer than expected, and the air outside felt heavier than it should have. Late afternoon in Lagos carried a different kind of noise. Not rushed like morning, not loose like night. It was crowded with movement, with people trying to get somewhere before the day fully closed.
Sharon walked a few steps behind him, finishing a call as she followed. He didn't look back, but he knew she was there. The car was already waiting by the curb, engine running, driver leaning slightly forward over the wheel, watching the road for an opening in the traffic.
The street was active.
