Adrian didn't sleep well, again. He kept waking up thinking someone was knocking on his door or standing in the shadows of his room. But every time he checked, nothing. Just silence, his own breathing, and the annoying flicker from the street light outside his window.
By 7am, his phone vibrated.
It was a message from Lara.
"Did you send it?"
He replied with just one word.
"Yes."
No reply came. He stared at the screen for a full minute, heart beating too fast, before finally getting up to shower.
The city was loud that morning. Not the usual kind of noise though. Something felt off. People on the bus were talking about a trending news. Something about a "whistleblower." Adrian's stomach turned. He brought out his phone and opened Twitter.
There it was.
"Anonymous whistleblower leaks documents on Lagos development firm. Allegations of corruption, land theft, and bribery involving politicians."
He froze.
The post already had over 1,200 retweets in just 2 hours.
One comment read: "This city is rotten. Thank God someone finally said something."
Another: "I bet this person is already dead or on the run."
Adrian locked his phone. The bus suddenly felt smaller, like everyone around could read his mind.
---
When he got to the office, it felt like a different place. People were whispering, some had their phones out. A few were even reading the thread out loud. But nobody mentioned names. Nobody said "Lara." Or "Adrian."
Yet.
At his desk, he noticed his drawer was slightly open.
He never left it open.
He checked inside. His notepad was still there. His extra pen. The little sketch he drew last week when he was bored. Nothing gone.
But he knew someone had been there.
He stood up and went straight to Lara's desk.
She wasn't there.
He waited.
Thirty minutes passed.
Still no sign of her.
He texted.
"Where are you?"
No reply.
He waited again. Then called.
It rang once. Then nothing.
He stared at his phone, hands shaking a bit. He looked around. Nobody looked suspicious, but now even friendly faces felt dangerous.
He sat back down, trying to focus, but his mind was in a different place. He kept remembering her face at the food place. The way she said "If anything happens to me."
He tried to breathe. Maybe she was just being careful. Maybe she was hiding until the heat cooled down. Maybe.
But by lunchtime, he couldn't take it anymore.
He told his boss he wasn't feeling well and left.
---
He walked for nearly an hour. No destination. Just walking. Trying to think.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He almost ignored it. But something told him to pick.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then a soft female voice whispered, "Don't talk. Just listen."
"Lara?"
"I had to leave. They came to my house this morning. Not the police. Not anyone official. Just two men in a black car. Asking my neighbour questions."
Adrian's throat dried. "Are you safe?"
"I'm not sure yet. But I'm not coming back for now. I'll contact you when it's safe."
"What about the files?"
"The reporter messaged back. They said more people are looking into it now. But it'll take time."
Then she added something that made his blood freeze.
"They know your name."
He stopped walking.
"What?"
"Someone inside must have seen us. Maybe the flash drive. Maybe something we didn't cover."
"What should I do?"
"Disappear for now. Stay low. Don't go home. Don't call anyone."
"Lara…"
"I'll find you when it's safe. I promise."
Then the line cut.
Adrian just stood there, in the middle of the street, people walking past him like nothing was wrong.
But everything was wrong.
He had just become a ghost in his own city.
---
That night, he didn't go home. He used cash to pay for a small room in a dirty guest house in Surulere. No ID. No names. Just one night.
He sat on the bed, lights off, staring out the dusty window.
The city he loved, the place he grew up in, now felt like it wanted to spit him out.
And the crazy thing was… it was only beginning.
He could feel it.
Somewhere out there, someone was already planning their next move. And this time, it might not be just a knock on the door.
It might be the end.