rhood. Mama Rose had wrapped her gele so high it brushed the top of the doorway, and she wore the bright blue lace she'd been saving since last December. "Why are we going to thi

. "A little." "I'm Mummy Tawa's godson," he said. "She told me to come and greet the 'fine London girl' that's been hiding in her compound." "I'm not hiding. I'm... observing." "Same thing," he said, sitting beside her. They watched as two women carried trays of jollof and grilled chicken across the party. A boy chased after them, yelling, "Mummy, put extra meat o!" Adanna laughed. "This is what I missed. Real Nigerian chaos." Tobi glanced at her, his eyes softer tonight. "How long were you in London?" "Six years. Studied photography. Worked for a fashion magazine. Got engaged." She paused, then shrugged. "Got un-engaged." He nodded slowly. Didn't ask for more. She appreciated that. "And you?" she asked. "I've always been here," he said. "Born in Iwo Road. Grew up in Agbowo. Thought I'd be a musician. Ended up a teacher." "Why the switch?" "Life," he said simply. "Sometimes your dream gets tired before you do." Adanna studied him for a moment. His voice carried a weight she couldn't place. A quiet ache. Before she could ask more, a child ran past them, chasing fireflies with a plastic cup. Dozens of