The silence that followed the meter's final beep was heavy. In the sudden darkness of the Mowe apartment, the only thing Amina could hear was her own ragged breathing and the distant sound of a neighbor's generator cranking to life.
"Amina? Why are you just standing there?"
Tunde walked into the kitchen, the screen of his phone illuminating his face from below, casting harsh, tired shadows. He looked so ordinary. His white singlet had a small yellow stain near the collar, and he smelled of sweat and old engine oil.
"The rice is burning," she said, her voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.
Tunde hissed, reaching past her to kill the gas. "I told you. I told you I'd handle the meter once I finished with the Gen. Now the food is ruined, the light is gone, and I still haven't showered."
Amina didn't move. She was staring at his hand the same hand that, moments ago in that marble courtyard, had been covered in silver bracers.
"Tunde," she whispered. "Look at me."
"Amina, not now. I'm tired."
"Please. Just look at me."
He sighed, a long, weary sound, and turned his phone light toward her. "What? Is something wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"
She reached out, her fingers trembling. She didn't just touch his arm; she gripped it, searching for that spark, that heat she had felt in the Aether.
For a split second, she saw it.
As her skin met his, a tiny, microscopic spark of blue static jumped between them. It wasn't the "shock" you get from a rug. It was deeper. It felt like a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
Tunde flinched, pulling his arm back. "Ouch! See? The wiring in this house is faulty. Even you are carrying current now."
"You didn't feel that?" she asked, her heart racing. "Tunde, it wasn't the wiring. It was... it was us."
He laughed, but there was no music in it. Just exhaustion. "Amina, it's heat. We are both stressed. Go and lie down. I'll go to the junction and buy a recharge card for the meter. If I can find a shop that's still open in this rain."
He turned to leave, but Amina noticed something that made her blood run cold.
On the floor, exactly where Tunde had been standing, was a single, shimmering petal. It was white, shaped like a teardrop, and it smelled faintly, purely of jasmine.
There were no jasmine plants in Mowe.
She knelt, her fingers hovering over the petal. As she touched it, the "System" of her own mind seemed to click into place. She realized she wasn't just a housewife anymore. She was a bridge.
If I can bring a petal back, she thought, her eyes widening, what else can I bring? And what happens if the Alchemist decides to come here and find me?
She tucked the petal into her bra, right against her heart. It felt ice-cold, a sharp contrast to the humid Lagos night.
"I'm coming with you," she called out to Tunde.
"In this rain? For what?"
"I don't want to be alone in the dark," she lied.
The truth was, she needed to see if the world outside looked the same. She needed to know if the "Glitch" was just in her house, or if the Alchemy of Souls was starting to bleed into the streets of Lagos.