The roar of the viewing center spilled into the street long before Abraham, Emperor, and Tamuno reached the doorway. The tin-roofed shack was packed with young men balancing plastic chairs on uneven ground, their eyes glued to the flat-screen television mounted high on the wall. Generator hums mixed with cheers, curses, and the metallic hiss of beer bottles clinking against tables.
Inside, the energy was electric. Manchester United were playing Chelsea, and the score was tied at one-all. Abraham's heartbeat quickened the way it always did before a big game's final moments.
He found them seats near the middle, Emperor slapping his palm against Abraham's shoulder with a grin. "Today, we rise. Man United for life!"
Abraham nodded, eyes never leaving the screen. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, his whole body taut with focus.
"Two of you should relax," Tamuno muttered, dragging his chair back with a scowl. He wore an Arsenal jersey proudly, even though his team wasn't playing. "All this hype for a team that will still disgrace you next month."
Emperor burst into laughter. "My brother, at least our disgrace has style. Arsenal disgrace na generational curse!"
The viewing center erupted as United launched a counterattack. Abraham shot to his feet, fists clenched. "Yes! Yes! Give him the ball!"
The striker fired. The net bulged. Goal!
The place exploded in noise. Men leapt from their seats, some hugging, some running in circles. Abraham whooped, a rare sound bursting from him, his face lit with childlike joy.
Emperor grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Abe Martial! We are alive! We are kings!"
Tamuno groaned, burying his head in his hands as the Man U fans around him taunted Arsenal's "silent supporters."
When the noise finally settled, Emperor leaned back, smirking. "Look at you, Abe. You're screaming like you just proposed marriage. Don't tell me you can't show the same passion to a woman."
Abraham shot him a look. "Football is not the same thing."
"Ah!" Emperor slapped his thigh dramatically. "So ball is more important than love? No wonder you're still single. Glory should hear this one."
At the mention of her name, Abraham froze. Emperor's grin widened knowingly.
"Wait," Tamuno cut in, sensing mischief. "Glory? As in Glory Ikpe?"
"Who else?" Emperor said, eyes glinting. "Our Abe has been looking at her like striker eyeing empty net. Only problem, he refuses to take the shot."
The table shook with Emperor's laughter, but Abraham ignored him, focusing on the replay on screen. Still, a faint flush rose along his cheekbones.
"Better score that goal before another striker arrives," Tamuno muttered, sipping his drink.
Emperor winked at him. "That's what I've been saying."
---
Meanwhile, at the Ikpe compound, the atmosphere was less raucous but no less charged.
Glory sat on the veranda with Chiburuoma and Mama Ekaette, peeling cassava into a wide basin. The younger ones darted about, Baby attempting to chase Manu with a broom until Chituga smacked him with a warning.
"So tell me," Mama Ekaette said suddenly, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. "What's going on between you and Abraham Martial?"
Glory nearly dropped the cassava. "Mama! Nothing is going on."
"Nothing?" Chiburuoma raised a brow. "The way you two were looking at each other yesterday, even blind man could see something."
Glory felt heat creep up her neck. "We're just friends. Old friends. That's all."
But Mama Ekaette wasn't convinced. "Hmmm. Just know people in this town have long mouths. Already they're saying Glory Ikpe came back from Lagos to marry Abraham."
Glory gasped. "Who is saying that?"
Chiburuoma shrugged. "I overheard at the market. Some women by the pepper stall."
Glory pressed her lips together, a swirl of irritation and something more complicated churning in her chest. She hadn't even had time to breathe since arriving, and already the rumor mill was grinding.
Mama Ekaette patted her knee. "Don't mind them. But also don't deny what God might be planning. Abraham is a good man. Too serious sometimes, but his heart is strong."
Glory looked away, her mind tugged unwillingly to the image of Abraham at the river years ago, and again yesterday under the mango tree. Strong, steady, quiet. A heart she wasn't sure she was ready to tangle with.
---
Back at the viewing center, the final whistle blew. United had won. Abraham's face glowed with victory as he shook hands with strangers around him.
Emperor leaned close, his voice low but teasing. "You see how you celebrated? That is how you should chase Glory. Score the goal, my brother, before Arsenal boy here tries his luck."
Tamuno chuckled, raising his hands. "Leave me out. I already have enough wahala with Arsenal. But honestly, Abe… Emperor has a point."
Abraham didn't reply. He slipped on his sandals, his mind heavier than it had been even before the match.
As they stepped into the night air, the noise fading behind them, he found himself thinking not of the winning goal, but of Glory's smile — the one Emperor wouldn't stop dragging into the conversation, and the one he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried.