By the time the sun disappeared beneath the Lagos horizon, the city had transformed into something electric.
From his bedroom window, David could see the distant glow of Victoria Island stretching across the darkness like scattered fire. Headlights crawled along the roads in steady streams, and somewhere far away, music already pulsed from places where people had gathered to celebrate love, status, or simply the need to be seen.
Valentine's Day meant different things to different people.
For some, it was intimacy.
For others, it was performance.
David stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the collar of his black shirt with slow, deliberate movements. The fabric fit him well, resting naturally against his shoulders without excess or strain. He had never cared much for expensive brands or loud designs. He preferred simplicity. Control. Things that did not beg for attention.
On his right wrist, the bracelet Ada had given him sat quietly against his skin.
He hadn't taken it off.
Behind him, his door creaked open without warning.
Ada stepped in, already dressed in her pink hoodie and holding a half-eaten biscuit.
She leaned against the doorframe, studying him carefully.
"You're really going," she said.
It wasn't a question.
David met her eyes through the mirror.
"Yes."
She walked into the room slowly, circling him once like an inspector evaluating a suspect.
"This is the Banana Island party, right?"
He nodded.
She stopped in front of him.
"The one with rich people."
He smiled faintly. "Yes."
She crossed her arms.
"They laughed at you last time."
He didn't respond immediately.
She wasn't wrong.
He still remembered the subtle looks. The dismissive smiles. The quiet ways people reminded him that he existed outside their invisible circle.
"I'll be fine," he said finally.
She stared at him for a few seconds longer, as though trying to determine whether he was telling the truth or simply protecting her from it.
Then she reached forward and adjusted his collar slightly.
"You look good," she said.
He blinked, surprised.
"Thank you."
She stepped back.
"If anyone laughs at you again," she said calmly, "call me."
He laughed under his breath.
"I will."
She nodded, satisfied.
As he turned to leave, she called out again.
"David."
He paused at the door.
"Yes?"
She pointed at his wrist.
"Don't remove it."
He looked down at the bracelet.
"I won't."
And he meant it.
Banana Island at night did not feel like Nigeria.
It felt like a separate country built in secret, hidden behind guarded gates and quiet wealth.
The security checkpoint scanned his car before allowing him through, the guards barely glancing at him once his name was confirmed on the guest list. The roads inside were smooth, perfect, untouched by the chaos that defined most of Lagos. Streetlights reflected off polished gates and glass walls, illuminating mansions that stood like monuments to power.
When he finally arrived, the house was impossible to miss.
Cars filled the driveway in perfect disorder — machines that cost more than entire buildings elsewhere. Music vibrated through the air even before he stepped out, heavy bass rolling across the ground beneath his feet.
He stood beside his car for a moment, looking up at the mansion.
Tall white pillars.
Glass balconies.
Light spilling from every window.
People moving inside like shadows in celebration.
He adjusted his sleeve once.
Then he walked forward.
The moment he entered, the noise wrapped around him completely.
Laughter.
Music.
Voices layered over each other in endless conversation.
Nobody noticed him immediately, which was both a relief and a reminder.
He moved calmly through the space, his posture straight, his expression neutral. He did not rush. He did not hesitate. He existed in the room without asking permission.
But attention, eventually, always found him.
"David."
He turned.
Tunde stood near the staircase, drink in hand, already smiling in that familiar way.
It wasn't a friendly smile.
It was the kind that prepared itself for amusement.
Tunde looked him up and down slowly, taking in every detail.
Then he laughed.
"HAHAHA DAVID… you don't have a girlfriend and you still dare to come to the party?"
The words carried across the nearby space, pulling attention toward them like gravity.
A few people turned.
Others listened without pretending not to.
David felt the moment settle around him, heavy but familiar.
This was how it always began.
He did not look away.
He did not lower his head.
He simply stood there, calm, controlled, unshaken on the surface.
But beneath that calm, something quiet and patient observed everything.
Something that did not feel shame.
Something that did not feel small.
Something that waited.
And tonight, for reasons David did not yet understand…
It was paying closer attention than ever before.