Arden spent the rest of the night pretending he wasn't unsettled.
He sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at a message from his father that had arrived hours earlier.
Stay alert. We've received movement. Don't trust anyone easily.
Typical. Vague. Unhelpful.
He locked the phone and leaned back, exhaling slowly. Lagos noises drifted through the open window—laughter, distant music, a generator humming somewhere nearby. Under normal circumstances, the sounds would have been comforting. Tonight, they only sharpened his awareness.
His mind kept replaying the image of the man from the café. The way his eyes had lingered. The way he'd walked away calmly, as if he'd seen exactly what he came for.
And worse—Ife had been right there.
The thought tightened something in his chest.
The next day, Arden insisted on meeting Ife early.
She raised an eyebrow when she saw him waiting outside the café, hands shoved into his pockets, posture tense.
"You look like someone stole your sleep," she said.
"Long night," he replied.
She studied him for a moment longer than usual, then shrugged. "Come. I want to show you something."
They walked through quieter streets this time, away from traffic and shouting vendors. Arden noticed she chose the route deliberately—less crowded, more familiar.
"You always know where you're going," he said.
She smiled. "In Lagos, you either learn the streets or the streets learn you."
They stopped at a small park—nothing fancy. A few benches, dusty ground, children playing football with a deflated ball. It was peaceful in a way that felt rare.
"This place helps me think," she said, sitting. "When things get loud."
Arden sat beside her, careful not to touch. For a moment, neither spoke.
"You were different yesterday," Ife said quietly.
He stiffened. "Different how?"
"Quieter. Watching everything." She turned to him. "You don't do that unless something's wrong."
He hesitated.
This was the part he hated—the line between honesty and safety.
"I'm just… not used to chaos," he said finally. "London is quieter."
She laughed softly. "That's not it."
Arden looked at her then. Really looked. Her eyes weren't playful now. They were sharp. Observant. She wasn't naive. She'd never been.
"You're hiding something," she said gently. "I don't know what it is, but it follows you around like a shadow."
He swallowed.
"Ife—"
"I'm not asking you to explain," she interrupted. "I just want to know if I should be worried."
Her words landed heavier than any accusation.
Arden exhaled slowly. "I would never let anything happen to you."
She tilted her head. "That wasn't the question."
He didn't answer.
She sighed, leaning back. "Okay. Then we'll pretend I didn't ask."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable—but not cold.
Later that afternoon, they wandered through a quieter market. Arden stayed closer than usual, his awareness sharpened. When someone brushed past Ife too roughly, he stepped between them without thinking.
She noticed.
"You're hovering," she teased.
"Am I?"
"Yes. Like a very tall, anxious shadow."
He smiled faintly. "Occupational hazard."
She laughed, but her gaze lingered on him longer than usual.
At one stall, she picked up a bracelet—simple beads, earthy colors.
"You should get this," the vendor said immediately. "For your girlfriend."
Arden choked. "She's not—"
Ife burst out laughing. "Relax. He says that to everyone."
Still, the vendor winked knowingly.
Arden cleared his throat. "I'll buy it."
"For who?" Ife asked, amused.
He handed it to her without meeting her eyes. "For you."
Her laughter faded.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to."
She slipped it onto her wrist slowly, her fingers brushing his. The contact was brief—but electric.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Their eyes met, something unspoken passing between them.
As evening fell, they parted ways at her street.
"Try not to get kidnapped by public transport," she said lightly.
"I'll do my best."
She paused, then added, "And Arden?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever you're running from… don't let it run your life."
She turned and walked away before he could respond.
Arden stood there long after she disappeared, the weight of her words settling deep.
Across the street, a car idled briefly before pulling away.
Too slowly.
Arden's jaw tightened.
He wasn't just hiding anymore.
He was endangering someone who mattered.
And that realization scared him more than any enemy ever had.