Jay didn't sleep well that night.
Not because of danger.
Not because of fear.
But because his mind wouldn't slow down.
Zara's voice kept replaying in his head — calm, steady, honest. The kind of voice that didn't demand answers but somehow made you want to give them anyway.
Morning came with the sound of the neighborhood waking up. Someone arguing over water. A radio playing old songs. The smell of fried akara drifting through the air.
Life, as usual.
Jay sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He wondered when things stopped being simple. When surviving turned into choosing. When protecting himself started meaning pushing people away.
He stood up, splashed water on his face, and stepped outside.
---
Kemi was already there, sitting on a low wall, scrolling through his phone.
"You dey glow," Kemi said without looking up.
Jay frowned. "Abeg."
"I swear," Kemi continued, finally looking at him. "Na that kind glow people get when trouble and happiness dey fight inside their chest."
Jay laughed lightly. "You too dey talk."
But Kemi wasn't joking. He dropped his phone and stood up. "Listen. You remember how we be before? Just two guys thinking of next meal, next hustle."
Jay nodded.
"Now your steps dey heavier. That's how I know you dey crossing one invisible line."
Jay exhaled. "So what you want make I do?"
Kemi shrugged. "Just don't forget yourself. This city no dey forgive people who forget who they are."
---
Later that day, Jay met Zara again — not planned, not forced. Just one of those coincidences the city liked to throw around.
She was standing outside a bookstore, flipping through pages like time didn't exist.
"You read?" Jay asked, surprised.
She looked up and smiled. "Sometimes. When reality gets too loud."
He nodded. "I understand that."
They walked side by side without rushing. No awkward silence. No heavy questions.
"Why do you stay here?" Jay asked suddenly.
Zara paused. "Because running doesn't always mean freedom."
Jay glanced at her. "That sounds like experience talking."
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe."
He didn't push. Some truths needed space.
---
Across the street, someone watched.
Not close enough to be noticed.
Not far enough to miss anything.
A phone was lifted. A picture taken.
Jay laughing.
Zara talking.
Two lives slowly intertwining.
"Interesting," the man muttered.
---
That evening, Jay visited his mother's old place — the one he avoided because memories lived there louder than people.
The door creaked when he pushed it open. Dust covered everything. But the walls still remembered laughter.
He sat down, breathing in the quiet.
"My life dey change, Mama," he whispered. "I just hope I'm choosing right."
No answer came.
But somehow, the silence felt like understanding.
---
When Jay returned home, his phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
Be careful who you let close. Not everyone watching you is a stranger.
His chest tightened.
He looked around the street. Nothing unusual. People moving. Night settling in.
But this time, the calm didn't feel peaceful.
It felt like warning.
Jay typed slowly.
Jay:
Who is this?
No reply came.
Jay slipped the phone into his pocket, eyes sharp now.
For the first time, he realized something clearly:
The danger wasn't coming loudly.
It was coming quietly.
And it was already close.