It started with a La Casera.
Then gala.
Then silence.
The kind that hums when something unsaid is hanging between two people.
They sat on a bench near the bus stop, watching Lagos move in loud, reckless waves around them. Ifeoma bit her gala slowly, like she wasn't in a rush for anything — including answers.
Jide looked at her sideways. "So… we good?"
She wiped her hand with tissue. "We… dey try. But I still dey watch you like NIN queue."
He laughed. "That serious?"
She nodded. "Na Lagos. You no fit trust anybody fully until you see them handle stress without lying or ghosting."
He took that in, quietly.
"I'm learning," he said. "From you."
That made her lips curve a little.
Minutes later, he pointed across the road. "You ever tried that ewa agoyin woman?"
She raised an eyebrow. "The one with pepper that can reset memory?"
"That one," he grinned.
They crossed together. Shared a plate.
No forks. Just hands, tissue, and laughter when the pepper hit too hard.
"You dey cry?" she teased.
"It's flavor! Not tears."