The sun had already begun dipping lower across the Lagos skyline when the convoy finally returned to the hotel. Traffic still hummed across the streets like a restless river of metal and sound, but inside the quiet conference room on the upper floor the atmosphere felt calmer.
Shina sat in front of his laptop with his headphones around his neck, scrubbing through the footage again.
The clip of the football field.
The boy sitting on the bench.
The quiet conversation between Dayo and the young man, Bolu.
The moment Bolu recognized Dayo and was blown away.
The moment inside the small house.
The hug between the boy and his mother, including the tears.
Each time he replayed it, the scene hit him again.
He leaned back in his chair slowly and rubbed his face.
"God…"
For a moment he simply stared at the screen.
