By morning, Shina's phone was hot.
Not warm. Hot.
He woke up to the vibration first, that angry buzzing that kept restarting every few seconds, like the device was choking on the amount of notifications trying to enter at once. He rolled over, squinting, and saw the screen lighting up again and again.
Mentions. New subscribers. WhatsApp messages from numbers he didn't save. Instagram DMs. Emails. A missed call from his mother.
For a second he just stared, confused, like he had slept into somebody else's life.
Then he unlocked the phone.
His video was no longer just on his channel.
It was everywhere.
Someone had cut the most emotional forty seconds and posted it as a short clip with bold captions.
"JD stopped to help a boy in Lagos. No camera. No announcement. Just action."
Another page uploaded the salon moment with a caption that felt like a punchline.
This is how you know he's not doing this for clout. He didn't even let the boy remain rough. Haircut first.
