The damp, metallic scent of fresh rain clung to the air outside Murtala Muhammed International Airport, just as it had two years ago. For Teni, returning to Lagos was an exercise in holding back tears.
Two years prior, after three months of silent, unacknowledged rendezvouses on the third-floor balcony of an old residential building in Ikoyi—a building neither she nor he lived in—she had gone there one final rainy Tuesday to say goodbye before relocating to London. He hadn't shown up. She had waited until the storm subsided and the streetlights flickered to life, feeling a quiet heartbreak for a man whose name she didn't even know. Weeks later, she settled into her new life in the UK, burying the memory under cold mornings and corporate spreadsheets.
Then came the devastating call: her mother had passed away in Lagos.
Now, after the funeral in Abeokuta and days spent sorting through her mother’s belongings, Teni found her feet driving down the familiar, potholed turns of Ikoyi. The sky was overcast, heavy with the threat of another downpour. She pulled up outside the peeling, cream-colored apartment complex on Glover Road.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she climbed the concrete stairs to the third-floor balcony. The worn iron railing was still wet. Standing by her potted crotons near Gate 3B was Mama Sade, the elderly resident who had often watched Teni and the mysterious young man stand silently side-by-side watching the Lagos skyline after rain.
"Ah, my daughter!" Mama Sade gasped, her eyes widening as she recognized Teni. "You came back! You finally came back!"
Teni offered a sad, faint smile. "Good afternoon, Mama. I... I just came to look at the view one last time before flying back to Heathrow tonight."
Mama Sade grabbed Teni’s hand with surprising strength, her face filled with urgency. "Wait here. Do not move! He came back every single week for six months looking for you!"