Adaeze reread Tunde’s message for the third time.
I had a really good time today. I’d like to see you again. No traffic involved
She smiled despite herself.
Across the room, Chike sat quietly, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his ears were sharp. He had noticed the smile. He always did.
“You’re glowing,” he said casually.
Adaeze looked up. “Am I?”
“Yes,” Chike replied, forcing a chuckle. “Lagos glow or love glow?”
She shook her head. “You won’t rest.”
“I’m just saying,” he continued, lowering his voice, “be careful. Lagos nights are not friendly.”
Adaeze studied him. There was concern in his eyes—but also something else. Possessiveness? Fear? She couldn’t tell.
“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly. “I can take care of myself.”
Chike nodded slowly. “Alright.”
But as she walked away, his jaw clenched.
Later that evening, Adaeze stepped out of her apartment dressed simply—jeans, a soft top, light makeup. She didn’t want to try too hard, yet her reflection in the mirror told her she looked good.
Her phone buzzed.
Tunde: I’m outside. Please don’t keep me waiting like Lagos traffic.
She laughed and grabbed her bag.
Outside, Tunde leaned against his car, sleeves rolled up, confidence relaxed but unmistakable.
“You look… dangerous,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous?”
“For my peace of mind.”
She laughed as she got into the car.
The city transformed at night.
Streetlights glowed like stars fallen to earth. Music spilled from lounges, bars, roadside grills. Lagos breathed louder, faster.
“So,” Adaeze asked, “where are you taking me?”
“That,” Tunde replied, starting the engine, “is classified information.”
She smiled. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Absolutely.”
They drove through Victoria Island, joking, arguing over music, laughing when Tunde missed a turn and confidently pretended it was intentional.
“You’re lost,” Adaeze said.
“I’m exploring,” he corrected.
They finally settled at a rooftop lounge overlooking the city. The breeze was cool, the view breathtaking.
“This is nice,” she admitted.
Tunde grinned. “I told you. Lagos can be romantic—if it likes you.”
They talked for hours. About dreams. About fears. About the strange loneliness that came with living in a city full of people.
“For the first time,” Adaeze said quietly, “Lagos feels less heavy.”
Tunde looked at her, expression softening. “Maybe it’s the company.”
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, everything else faded.
Adaeze excused herself to take a call. As she stepped aside, she felt it—that familiar unease.
Someone was watching.
She turned slowly.
Across the street, partially hidden by shadows and neon light, stood a man. Tall. Broad. Still.
Their eyes met.
Her heart skipped violently.
It was him.
Her ex.
She hadn’t seen him in over a year, but she would recognize that stare anywhere.
Cold. Calculating.
Threatening.
He smiled.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
She staggered back, breath catching in her throat.
“Are you okay?” Tunde asked, rushing toward her.
She shook her head, trying to compose herself. “I—I need some air.”
Before Tunde could ask more, the man turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Adaeze’s hands trembled.
On the drive home, the earlier laughter was gone.
“You’ve been quiet,” Tunde said gently.
“I’m tired,” she replied.
He nodded, unconvinced but respectful.
As she stepped out of the car, she paused. “Tunde… if someone from my past showed up, would that scare you?”
He looked at her seriously. “Only if it hurts you.”
She swallowed.
“Good night,” she said softly.
Across the street, from inside a dark car, the man lifted his phone and made a call.
“She’s with him,” he said calmly.
A pause.
Then: “Yes. I’m sure.”
He smiled slowly.
“Let the game begin.”
To be continued…
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