The morning in Oke-Uba, the southern district of Ayoró city, was different. It wasn't the kind of dawn that arrived with gentle light — it came with horns blaring, shouting from mama-put stalls, the clanging of BRT buses stuck in tight corners, and the smell of hot akara mixing with vehicle fumes.
Newton woke up earlier than usual. His head was full — not of dreams, but of questions. The memory of the strange man from yesterday, the talk of hidden debts and invisible enemies, played back in his mind like a bad chorus.
He dressed simply — white polo, brown chinos, rubber slippers — and stepped out, locking the wooden door with the same rusty key he'd used since he was a boy. As he walked down the dusty street, neighborhood faces greeted him, some with smiles, some with suspicion. In the city, even your neighbors studied you like headlines.
He passed old Madam Ireti's shed, where she sold fake perfumes and real gossip. Her radio buzzed low with a pastor preaching fire.
> "Africa is in spiritual bondage!" the voice shouted.
"It's not just a curse — it's organized captivity! Fight!"
Newton smirked. In Ayoró, even the radios were warriors.
---
Crossroads and Corners
By midday, Newton had arrived at Obalende Park. It was chaos wrapped in commerce — hawkers, buses, agberos, students, pickpockets, and saints. Somewhere in the mess, he saw her.
Adesuwa.
She was buying roasted corn, bargaining like her life depended on it.
"₦200 for that small thing? My sister, fear God!"
Newton laughed. She noticed him.
"You still exist?" she asked, playful annoyance in her voice.
"I've been around," he replied, trying not to sound too interested. "You just stopped looking."
They sat together on a low bench under a large mango tree, sharing stories and burnt corn. For a moment, the city paused — or pretended to.
But nothing good stays long in Ayoró.
---
The Return of Shadows
A black Toyota Hilux slowly rolled to a stop across the road. Men in plain black T-shirts, dark shades, and no name tags stepped out. Their boots made the kind of sound that made innocent people nervous.
Adesuwa froze. Newton noticed.
"You know them?"
"I know that look," she whispered. "They're not police. They're worse. They don't wear uniforms because uniforms carry rules."
One of the men stared directly at Newton.
Adesuwa grabbed his hand.
We have to go. Now.
---
Chasing the Unknown
They ducked through the crowd, zig-zagging across the park. The Hilux men followed calmly — like people who knew time was on their side.
Newton's heartbeat raced. Adesuwa pulled him through the back of a suya joint, then through a fence broken by teenagers months ago. They emerged near Old Rail Quarters, where most buildings were abandoned and dogs barked at ghosts.
Safe — for now.
Why are they chasing me?"Newton asked.
Adesuwa looked away.
Maybe it's not just you.🤣