The morning sun spilled over the rooftops of Uyo, gilding the compound in soft light. Roosters crowed with stubborn persistence, and the distant sound of a grinding machine added its mechanical song to the neighborhood chorus.
Glory Ikpe stood on the veranda, arms folded as she watched the commotion in Chiburuoma's family compound next door. It was barely eight o'clock, and already the place throbbed with life.
"Manuuuu!" Chiburuoma's mother's voice carried over the low wall. "If you don't drop that broom right now, I will—"
Too late. The broom was already in the hands of three-year-old Manuchimso — better known as Manu — who charged across the yard with it like a knight with a sword. His giggles split the air as Baby, his teenage brother, chased after him.
"Give me that broom before you scatter everything!" Baby shouted, his long legs barely managing to keep up.
Chituga, the youngest sister, leaned against the doorway, arms folded in a posture far too mature for her twelve years. "You people are just making noise. Small boy cannot play in peace?"
At that, Manu stopped and swung the broom like a weapon. "I'm Captain Manu! Nobody can catch me!"
The broom handle clipped Baby's shin, and he yelped. "You this small mosquito!"
Glory laughed aloud, unable to help herself. The sound made Chiburuoma, who had just stepped out balancing a tray of akara balls, glance up with a smile.
"Glory, don't mind them," Chiburuoma said, setting the tray on a bench. "My house is a zoo."
"It's a lively zoo," Glory replied, stepping closer to the wall. "I missed this noise. Lagos is never noisy in the right way."
"Abeg, Lagos noise is not human," Chiburuoma said, brushing flour from her wrapper. "Generator here, traffic there, everybody shouting. This one is better."
Baby finally caught Manu and hoisted him upside down by the waist. Manu squealed in delight, kicking the air.
"Baby, leave him before he vomits akara on your head!" Chiburuoma warned, but she was laughing too.
Glory leaned her elbows on the low wall, watching the chaos with a fondness that surprised her. She had grown up around noise like this — cousins, siblings, neighbors. Lagos, for all its glamour, sometimes felt too quiet in the places that mattered most.
---
By mid-morning, Glory was inside Chiburuoma's sitting room, sipping zobo from a tall glass. Baby sat cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with a cracked phone, while Chituga perched beside Glory, her curious eyes unblinking. Manu, having exhausted himself, dozed on a mat with half a meat pie clutched in his fist.
"So, Lagos big girl," Baby teased, his grin sharp. "When are you bringing us iPhones and sneakers?"
Glory chuckled. "When you pass your exams without cheating, Baby."
He clutched his chest dramatically. "Ewoo! You're wicked."
Chituga giggled, then grew serious. "Aunty Glory, is it true that in Lagos, people don't fetch water from the well? They just turn tap, and water will come out?"
"Yes," Glory said with a smile. "Though sometimes NEPA will disgrace you, and the tap will just look at you like fool."
The room burst into laughter. Even Baby rolled on the floor, clutching his stomach.
As the laughter died down, Chiburuoma leaned in. "So, Glory, are you going to stay in Uyo long this time? Or is Lagos already calling you back?"
Glory hesitated, tracing the rim of her glass. "I don't know yet. I just… wanted to come home, breathe different air."
Chiburuoma's eyes twinkled knowingly. "And maybe see certain people again?"
Glory shot her a glare. "Don't start."
"Start what?" Chiburuoma asked, all innocence. "I didn't mention anybody's name. It's you that is thinking of Abe."
Baby's ears perked up. "Abe? As in Abraham? That fine engineer that Mama says is responsible?"
Chituga sighed dreamily. "He's so tall."
Glory nearly choked on her drink. "What do you children know about tall men?"
Baby smirked. "We know enough. You like him, abi?"
Before Glory could retort, a familiar voice called from outside.
"Chika! Where is my ball? I kept it here yesterday."
It was Tamuno.
Baby sprang up. "I hid it from you! You think you can just be coming here every day to carry ball?"
Tamuno appeared in the doorway, towering over Baby, grinning. "This boy, one day I will bench you for Super Eagles training."
The room erupted again, and Glory sat back, watching as Tamuno filled the space with his booming laughter. He greeted her warmly before dragging Baby outside for an impromptu kick-about.
---
Later that afternoon, the compound quieted. Manu napped again, Chituga was sent to buy kerosene, and Baby disappeared with Tamuno to the football field. Glory and Chiburuoma sat on the veranda, peeling oranges.
A shadow fell across the gate, and Glory looked up.
It was Abraham.
He stood in a crisp shirt and trousers, as if he had come straight from work, his steady gaze locking with hers. For a moment, the noise of the world seemed to fade.
"Glory," he said simply, his voice low but carrying.
Her name sounded different in his mouth — heavier, almost like a promise.
Before she could respond, Manu's squeaky voice piped up from the mat where he'd stirred awake:
"Uncle Abe! Buy me sweet!"
The spell broke. Everyone laughed, and Abraham bent to scoop Manu into his arms, greeting the rest of the household with the warmth of a man who had always belonged there.
Glory, however, couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted — quietly, deeply — and that the days ahead were about to change everything she thought she knew.