I didn’t go home that night. I left Darius's hotel, but I didn't return home. I drove. No music. No destination. Just Lagos at 2am, empty roads and streetlights making long lines on the windshield. Lagos wasn't known to be quiet, not even at night. But somehow the night was silent. Like it knew I needed the quiet and it was respecting my wish.

Darius’ words were still in my head:

"I followed instructions. Yours."

Instructions I wrote when I was 19 and terrified of my own wanting. Instructions I buried and then dug up and pretended I didn’t recognize.

By 4am I was parked outside my house.

James’ car...