Chapter 1: Coded Shade and Kaduna Moves

Generator hum dey background, neighbours dey quarrel about NEPA, but na my phone screen dey burn my eye pass. My babe use her alternate Facebook account drop: "Must a princess always marry a prince? Maybe the knight is truly her destiny."

I hiss loud—body dey pepper me, like mosquito enter my singlet. You know when person dey talk in code, you go just feel am for chest, as if mosquito dey buzz inside shirt. Na this small small social media shade dey cause heartbreak these days, but my own babe? For public, na so she dey type inspirational quotes, but for back, ehn, na different matter.

I no get problem if you want be princess, but since when princess dey waka behind prince back for midnight, dey send romantic messages give knight?

I shake my head. This Lagos don spoil finish if even "princess" dey hustle night shift with "knight". Na wah o! For my mind, I dey reason, since when princess dey sneak go backyard, dey run things with knight? Abi na new Nollywood series start wey I never sabi?

When she travel go Kaduna for work, she send me one message—sharp sharp, she delete am.

As the message flash for my phone, my heart skip. My instinct just tell me make I open chat fast-fast, but before I fit blink, she don clear am. Na all these Android delete-for-everyone matter. Na so I dey press back and forth, dey wonder wetin she dey hide, but I compose myself.

I wait like five minutes on purpose before I ask her wetin she send and remove. She say na mistake she send am.

I just dey look her chat, dey form cool. She talk am like e no mean anything, but you know say body language dey show pass mouth. I just reply "ok", but my mind dey on fire.

But I don already see am.

I see the message before e vanish, as God wan expose person. Na that kind luck wey dey make you fear phone. "I no even know if to go out with him make sense, just dey try correct old regrets."

She write: "I no even know if to go out with him make sense, just dey try correct old regrets."

My hand cold, like say I dip am inside freezer, but my face still dey form stone. My chest just catch fire. I try video call her immediately, but she no pick, say she dey chop with colleagues, e no convenient.

As I press call, my hand dey shake. She pick small ring, then end am. I message am, she reply, "I dey restaurant, abeg, colleagues full table." My body cold.

I say make I see wetin she dey chop.

She send me some food pictures. The restaurant name dey the plate. I check am—na one of those popular places for internet.

Sharp guy no dey slack. I zoom the plate, spot logo. Na that Kaduna joint dem dey hype for Twitter last month, where everybody dey do food review. I check their Instagram sef—same plates.

I just dey look my phone, then I open errands app, order one runner, location set to that restaurant.

Na so I press order, put location. My mind dey race, but I still dey smile like say na ordinary day.

I add the runner for WhatsApp, tell am say I dey find person—she dey there, abeg, if e fit, snap her picture or short video secretly for me?

I send am ten thousand naira straight. The guy see say I no dey joke, gree immediately.

Once alert enter, na there him sense stand, loyalty activate. Ten k for just waka and snap? Lagos boys dey hustle o. Na so e reply "No wahala, oga."

I describe my babe for am, then I wait. For that few minutes, my mind dey scatter—I want make e find her, but at the same time, I dey hope make e no see am.

As I dey wait, na so my leg dey tap floor. Even my neighbour dey knock wall, say make I reduce noise. My mind dey toss like jollof inside pot.

After three, four minutes, he send me one photo, ask if na her.

I pause, heart dey beat like agidigbo drum, before I fit open the picture. Even though I think say I ready, cold just catch my body when I see am.

You see that kind cold wey dey rush your back for harmattan? As I open photo, my palm just cold sweat. Picture no dey lie—na she, no doubt.

She dey chop alone with one guy. No single trace of all those her female colleagues wey she talk about.

The table clean—just her and the guy. All that talk about colleagues na wash. Her finger dey brush the guy own for table—dem dey play love, no be ludo.

He send more pictures, even though e blur, I still recognize the guy.

Her secondary school classmate.