Kunle was scrolling through his phone, deep in thought, as the Lagos sun blazed mildly overhead. The cool air-conditioned atmosphere of the boutique gave little comfort from the warmth still clinging to their skin after the dusty ride from their bus stop. His phone buzzed once, twice, but he barely noticed. He was lost in his own world, thumbing between bank apps and his call history.
Then he heard it.
"Kunle! Kunle!"
The sharp, accusing tone broke through the silence of his thoughts. He blinked up quickly, slightly startled, his eyes locking with Sandra's.
She stood there, arms crossed, a few clothing items in her hand, glaring at him with an expression that combined irritation and hurt. She wore a black crop top and high-waisted jeans, a soft-gloss pink on her lips, her wig curled perfectly to frame her slightly frowning face.
Seeing her expression, Kunle quickly dropped his phone onto the small bench beside him and stepped closer, his voice softening.
