The city didn't look different the next morning.
But I was.
As I walked through the streets, everything Malik said replayed in my head. The nods. The pauses. The people who spoke too softly and the ones who didn't speak at all. Once you noticed it, you couldn't un-notice it.
I saw two men standing across the road, pretending to argue about football. Their eyes weren't on each other.
They were on the street.
I kept walking.
---
Kemi met me near the roadside café, already arguing with the woman selling tea.
"I said no sugar!" he complained.
"You drank half already," she snapped back.
I laughed despite myself.
"There he is," Kemi said, turning to me. "Mr. Serious. Guy, you've been quiet lately. Even your silence is loud."
I sat down. "Ever feel like the city has too many ears?"
He raised an eyebrow. "That's not a normal thought."
"Neither is this city."
Before he could reply, someone pulled a chair and sat with us without asking.
She was tall, sharp-eyed, and carried herself like she didn't apologize for space. Her hair was tied back, and her gaze moved like it was measuring things.
"You're Jay," she said.
I stiffened. "Who's asking?"
She smiled. "Relax. Name's Nia."
Kemi leaned back. "You know him, but we don't know you. That's suspicious."
Nia laughed. "Fair." She looked at me. "Malik sent me."
Of course he did.
---
Nia didn't waste time.
"You're learning to see," she said as we walked. "But seeing isn't enough. You need context."
"Context for what?" I asked.
"For people," she replied. "Everyone here has a reason."
She pointed across the street. "That shop owner? Pays protection. Not because he's scared — because he's tired."
"And that guy?" Kemi asked, nodding toward a man leaning against a car.
Nia's eyes hardened. "Waiting for permission."
"Permission for what?"
"For chaos."
That word settled heavy in my chest.
---
Later, Zara joined us. She paused when she saw Nia, her expression unreadable.
"So this is Malik's new lesson," Zara said.
Nia smirked. "And you must be Zara. Heard a lot."
"Funny," Zara replied. "I've heard nothing about you."
"Then I'm doing my job right."
There was tension there — old, quiet tension. The kind that didn't need shouting.
As we walked, Zara stayed close to me. Not touching, but present. I noticed how she listened more than she spoke.
At one point, she leaned in. "Be careful with Nia."
"Why?"
"She's loyal," Zara said. "But not soft."
---
That evening, I went home early again. My mother was cooking, humming under her breath.
"You've been eating outside too much," she said without turning.
"I'll do better."
She glanced at me. "You always say that when life gets heavy."
That hit.
I sat down, watching the steam rise from the pot.
"Ma," I said, "do you ever regret staying?"
She paused.
"Regret?" she repeated. "No. But I learned to live with the cost."
"What cost?"
She met my eyes. "Watching people you love change."
---
Night came fast.
Malik called.
"You're doing well," he said calmly.
"I met Nia."
"She's efficient."
"She's dangerous."
Malik chuckled. "Those are not opposites."
I hesitated. "Why are you really helping me?"
There was a pause. Not long — but intentional.
"Because the city needs new eyes," he said. "And because old ones get tired."
Before I could respond, the call ended.
---
Later, Zara and I walked together in silence.
"Do you trust him?" I asked.
She thought about it. "I trust that he knows what he's doing."
"That's not an answer."
She stopped walking. "Jay… in this city, trust isn't about belief. It's about alignment."
"Are we aligned?" I asked quietly.
She looked at me, really looked. "Right now? Yes."
That was enough.
---
As we parted ways, I noticed a figure watching from across the street. Not hiding. Not obvious.
Just waiting.
Our eyes met.
He smiled.
Not friendly.
Not cruel.
Curious.
I felt it then — the shift.
Malik wasn't the only one watching me now.
And the city?
The city was starting to whisper my name.