The city didn't rush me the next morning.
That was new.
Usually, Lagos woke up angry—horns blaring, people arguing, sellers shouting prices like it was war. But today felt… patient. Like the city was watching to see what choice I'd make next.
I didn't like that feeling.
I met Kemi at a roadside café, the kind where the chairs never matched and the tea tasted like memories. He was already there, stirring his cup aggressively.
"You dey think too much," he said without looking up.
"I haven't even sat down."
"You don't need to. Your face is loud."
I sighed and sat. "Ever feel like your life is quietly changing and nobody warned you?"
Kemi chuckled. "Guy, that's adulthood."
"That's not what I mean."
He finally looked at me. "Jay… if you're in trouble, say it."
"I'm not," I replied. "Not yet."
"That 'yet' is dangerous."
He wasn't wrong.
---
Later that afternoon, I ran into Zara again—but this time, she was with someone.
A woman.
Older. Calm. Sharp eyes. She wore confidence the way some people wore perfume—subtle but unmistakable.
"This is Aisha," Zara said. "She used to mentor me."
Aisha studied me openly. "So you're Jay."
"I guess I am," I replied.
She smiled slightly. "People talk."
"That's rarely good."
"Not always bad either," she said. "Depends on what survives the talking."
We walked together for a while. Aisha didn't ask questions immediately, which made her scarier than Malik.
"You're standing near lines that don't erase easily," she finally said.
"I didn't draw them."
"No," she agreed. "But you can choose how deep they go."
Zara glanced at me. "She's trying to protect you."
Aisha shrugged. "Or prepare him."
---
That evening, Malik didn't call.
Instead, someone else did.
Unknown number.
I hesitated, then answered.
"Jay," a man's voice said. "You don't know me."
"I know enough to hang up."
He laughed softly. "Fair. But listen first."
I stayed quiet.
"You've been noticed," he continued. "Not by enemies. Not by friends. By observers."
My grip tightened.
"What do they want?"
"To see who you become when nobody tells you what to do."
"And you?"
"I'm just the messenger."
The line went dead.
---
I didn't sleep much that night.
When I finally did, I dreamed of crossroads—streets splitting endlessly, each one quieter than the last.
In the morning, my mother asked a question she hadn't asked in years.
"Are you happy?"
The simplicity of it hit harder than any threat.
"I'm… aware," I said.
She smiled sadly. "Awareness is expensive, my son. Don't spend it carelessly."
---
By midday, Nia found me again.
"You're hesitating," she said.
"I'm thinking."
She shook her head. "Thinking pauses fear. Action reveals truth."
She handed me a folded paper.
"Don't open it yet," she said. "Decide first."
"Decide what?"
"If you want answers—or control."
I stared at the paper long after she left.
---
I met Zara later by the waterfront. The sun dipped low, painting the water orange.
"You're quiet again," she said.
"So are you."
She smiled faintly. "I'm worried."
"About me?"
"About what this city does to people who care."
I looked at her. "Do you regret staying?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"No," she said finally. "But I regret pretending I wasn't changing."
She turned to me. "Jay… whatever you choose, don't disappear inside it."
"I won't," I promised.
But promises were dangerous things.
---
That night, alone in my room, I finally opened the paper.
Inside was an address.
And a time.
No explanation.
No pressure.
Just a door waiting to be approached—or ignored.
I sat there, paper in hand, heartbeat steady.
Because one truth had become clear:
The city wasn't forcing me anymore.
It was offering.
And what I chose next would decide whether I was walking into purpose…
Or becoming another shadow it swallowed whole.