Three weeks passed. Ifeoma stayed booked and busy. New clients, better pay, more reposts of her work online.
She'd almost forgotten Jide. Almost.
Until that Saturday.
She was at Balogun Market, searching for last-minute makeup supplies before a bridal gig. The sun was wicked. Her slippers had dust all over. The crowd was madness.
She squeezed past a stall and someone bumped her hard. Her bag nearly fell.
"Ah, sorry!" came a voice.
She turned.
*Jide.*
Of all people. Of all places. Lagos and its tricks.
He looked just as stunned.
"Wow…" he said. "You're really here."
"No, I'm your imagination," she replied, deadpan.
He laughed nervously. "Can I talk to you for one minute?"
"I've got ten things on my mind and you're number eleven. So talk fast."
They stepped aside, near a fabric stall.
"I swear, Tolu isn't my girlfriend. We dated, but we ended things months ago. That day… she begged me to show face one last time."
"She kissed you, Jide."
"I didn't kiss her back."
Silence.
Ifeoma looked away, then back. "I don't do half-truths. Not in Lagos."
"You're not just another girl to me."