📍 Makoko Safe House
🕢 7:30 AM | Friday Morning
The cold blue light of Maka's phone painted shadows across the corrugated iron roof. She reached for it, her hand brushing against Bayo's sleeping form. The warmth of his skin felt like the only real thing in the digital storm about to break.
"Bayo," she whispered.
He stirred, then saw her expression. #AffectionArmor was trending nationwide. Memes of their embrace from last night's declaration had been remixed with revolutionary slogans and Yoruba proverbs.
"River Guard chat is divided," she said, scrolling. "Amina says the younger members are creating art inspired by us. But Dele and the older activists worry we're turning the movement into a personality cult."
Bayo's mother's call came through. Geneva gleamed behind her.
"Ọmọ," she said, her voice stripped of polish. "Your father is furious but impressed. 'Finally, a move I didn't teach him.'" She leaned closer. "When you make your heart a public weapon, it becomes a public target."
As they ended the call, Maka noticed Bayo's bracelet was warm to the touch. Warmer than skin temperature.
"Your bracelet," she said, frowning.
"Adrenaline," he dismissed, but she saw the question in his eyes too.
Across the room, David quietly closed his laptop. He'd been staring at the MIT rejection email for ten minutes. All those nights coding instead of sleeping. All the sacrifices. The dream that kept him through countless coding nights was officially dead. He watched Maka and Bayo, their heads bent together, and made his choice. This was his family now. He didn't tell them. Not yet.
📍 Campus Media Lab
🕙 10:00 AM | Friday
"Power couple 101," Layo said, projecting her digital storyboard. Images of Maka and Bayo flashed across the screen, rendered as revolutionary icons. "We need moments showing intellectual partnership, domestic solidarity, protective energy."
Maka watched their love story being systematically transformed into political strategy. The bracelet on Bayo's wrist caught the light.
"Can we take five?" Maka asked abruptly.
In the hallway, she reached for Bayo's hand. "Your bracelet—it's hot again."
They found an empty classroom. "When did you first notice?" she asked.
"After the declaration. But just warm then."
"Think," Maka said. "What were we doing when it heated up?"
"Planning media strategy. When we agreed on the hashtag."
"And just now," Maka said slowly, "when Layo showed that graphic of us as modern-day Moremi and Sango."
She placed her hand over the bracelet, then over Bayo's heart. Their heartbeats seemed to sync.
"It's responding to us," she breathed. "When we're emotionally aligned. United in purpose."
Bayo stared at the intricate metalwork. "My mother said it responds to 'sovereign will.' I thought she was being poetic."
Back in the media lab, Maka watched Layo's powerful graphics. "Are we building something real, Bayo? Or just creating content? I feel like I'm directing a movie about us instead of living it."
Bayo turned her to face him. "The performance is the strategy. The love is real. Both can be true."
📍 Administration Building
🕑 2:00 PM | Friday
The Dean's office smelled of lemon polish and power. Maka concentrated on the wood grain, anything but the Dean's disappointed face.
"You've created a media circus," the Dean said. "The university cannot function as a stage for political theater."
Bayo started to speak, but she raised a hand. "Your scholarship, Ms. Okoro, is under review. 'Divided attention and questionable priorities.'"
Maka's stomach dropped. All those extra shifts her mother worked. The careful budgeting. The proud smile when the scholarship letter came. Her future, everything her parents sacrificed for, hanging in the balance.
"And you, Mr. Adebayo, the Board receives complaints about 'inappropriate student conduct.'"
She offered the deal Maka dreaded. "Publicly decouple your romantic narrative from political activities. Focus on traditional activism. Do this, and the review disappears."
As they left, Maka saw Zara slipping out a side door. Watching. Always watching.
📍 Okoro Family Shop
🕔 5:00 PM | Friday
The shop smelled of dried fish and determination. Maka's father wiped the counter, movements precise and angry.
"We built this," he said, not looking at them. "So you could have a better life. An education. Not to become a reality star for a rich boy's rebellion."
Maka's mother wrung her hands. "That boy's family can afford scandals. We cannot. What happens to your reputation? Your future?"
Bayo surprised everyone. He moved to Maka's father and knelt, bringing himself eye level.
"Sir," Bayo said, respectful but firm, "I'm not asking permission. I'm asking your blessing to build a legacy with your daughter, not for her."
The shop fell silent.
Zara emerged from the back room. "They're not just dating, Baba. They're building a fortress. Being soft and strong is the most radical thing now."
Maka's father studied Bayo, then gave a single, grudging nod. As they left, Maka noticed the shop violation notices were gone from the counter.
📍 Campus Parking Structure
🕗 8:00 PM | Friday
The parking structure felt like a concrete cage. Maka's hand found Bayo's as four large men blocked their path.
"Campus security has concerns," the lead man said, smile all teeth.
Bayo's bracelet pulsed with soft light. Not just warm now—vibrating with a low hum that made the men shift uncomfortably.
Layo stepped forward, her camera raised. "This is public property. You're being recorded."
One of the men knocked the camera from her hands. It shattered on the concrete. Layo stared at the pieces, her breath catching. "That was my father's," she whispered. "The last thing he gave me before they took him."
"Titan Security," Bayo read the uniform code, his voice cold with controlled rage. "Subcontracted through Apex Holdings. Your boss reports to my uncle. Walk away now, or I audit every contract."
The men hesitated. Campus security arrived, led by the IT Admin who gave a barely perceptible nod.
Amina moved to Layo's side, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. "We'll get you a new camera," she said softly. "My cousin works at the electronics market. Family discount."
📍 Virtual Safe House
🕘 9:00 PM | Friday
Chioma's face appeared as soon as they connected. "You see now? This isn't campus debate anymore."
She shared footage of Alliance members coordinating with security. "They'll incite violence at your next protest. Break bones to break your movement."
"But why do you care?" Maka demanded. "Why is Phoenix Group invested in campus activists?"
Chioma's expression turned grim. "The Alliance tests 'Apex Predictive Governance'—a system to control social movements. Your Poison Pill corrupts their core dataset. At 100%, you destroy a billion-dollar prototype."
She zoomed in on their encrypted channel. "They're mining your relationship. The emotional resonance between you creates patterns their AI can't decode. You're living proof their system is flawed—it can't account for genuine connection as strategy."
David leaned forward, his programmer's mind engaging. "So our love is their algorithm's blind spot?"
"Exactly," Chioma said. "And they'll do anything to either control it or eliminate it."
The offer came: full Phoenix protection, witness security, media management. Everything they needed to survive.
📍 Their Rooftop Spot
🕚 11:00 PM | Friday
The city spread below like a circuit board of dreams and desperation. Maka hugged her knees, the day's bravado crumbling.
"What if we're wrong? What if someone gets really hurt? Layo's camera... that was my fault."
Bayo sat beside her, a solid warmth in the cooling night. "Then we face it together. But hiding hasn't kept us safe."
He touched his cool bracelet. "My mother said this reacts to bio-resonance—when beings align in purpose. She told me to wear it when ready to defend what I love, not what I own." He looked at her, eyes full of terrifying honesty. "I'm not in this for the revolution, Maka. I'm in this for us. The revolution is just the world we build to keep us safe."
Maka thought of Layo's broken camera, David's sacrificed future, her parents' worried faces. Then she reached for Bayo's hand. The bracelet warmed again. Not with performance heat, but with the steady warmth of choice.
"Then we build it together," she said.
📍 Makoko Rooftop
🕔 5:00 AM | Sunday
Dawn painted the shantytowns rose and gold. The team stood together, watching the city wake. Layo sketched with a borrowed camera, determination in every line. "They can break the tool, not the hand that holds it." Amina coordinated with campuses joining #AffectionArmor, her voice crisp and sure. David monitored the Poison Pill—98% and counting, his focus absolute now that other doors had closed.
David stood before them. "I got the final 'no' from MIT yesterday."
The collective gasp sharpened the morning air. But David smiled, unburdened.
"It's okay. It was someone else's dream." He looked at each of them. "This family, this fight... this is mine. This is real."
Maka looked at Bayo, their team, their city. The affection armor wasn't strategy anymore. It was who they'd become.
"They thought our love made us vulnerable," she said, voice carrying in the dawn quiet. "They never understood that every gentle moment between us was another brick in our fortress, every whispered fear another weapon."
Bayo took her hand. The bracelet glowed softly, steadily.
"Let them come for the couple," he said. "They'll find an army."
Below, the city stirred, unaware the battle lines had redrawn—not in boardrooms or campuses, but in the space between two hearts choosing to beat as one.