The airplane wheels screeched against the runway, jolting Jake awake. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The cabin lights were dim, his seatbelt pressed against his chest, and the muffled chatter of passengers filled his ears. Then it hit him—he was back in America.
"Welcome to John F. Kennedy International Airport," the flight attendant announced. Jake rubbed his eyes and looked out the small oval window. The glittering city lights stretched endlessly beneath the dark sky, but they didn't comfort him the way they used to.
Home.
Or at least, it was supposed to feel like home.
As the plane slowed, Jake's chest tightened. Weeks ago, he had dreamed of this moment—returning to the familiar, escaping the noise and chaos of Lagos, the bullying, the fear. Yet now, something inside him whispered that he didn't quite belong here anymore.
---
The Return
At home, everything looked exactly the same. His room hadn't changed—same posters on the wall, same old sneakers tossed in the corner, same unmade bed. Yet as he dropped his bag and sat on the mattress, he felt like a stranger in his own space.
---
The First Days Back
The next few days were a blur of reunions. Old friends showed up at his house, eager to hear about Nigeria.
"So, did you ride elephants?" one of them asked.
Jake forced a laugh. "No, man. That's not how it is."
"Didn't you get malaria or something?" another joked.
They laughed, but Jake didn't. He wanted to tell them about Alex, about Ade's menacing glare, about how every day in Lagos felt like a test of survival. But he knew they wouldn't understand. To them, Nigeria was just some faraway place, something they'd seen in movies or on the news. To Jake, it was more than that. It was where he had faced fear and friendship in ways he never had before.
At school, things weren't easier. The hallways buzzed with energy, lockers slamming, kids shouting about basketball games and new phones. Jake walked through the crowd, but it all felt shallow. He had changed, and they hadn't.
In class, he caught himself staring out the window, remembering the day he and Alex sat on the hostel roof, watching the sun sink over Lagos. He could still hear Alex's voice: "One day, Jake, you'll understand. Nigeria is part of you now."
---
The Message
One night, Jake lay on his bed scrolling through his phone. The glow of the screen lit up his face in the dark room. Notifications popped up—memes, group chats, random messages from classmates. He scrolled absentmindedly until one stopped him cold.
It was from Alex.
Jake's heart skipped. They hadn't spoken much since he left. With the time difference and their busy lives, it wasn't easy. But Alex's message was short, urgent, and chilling:
"They're still watching me. Be careful."
Jake sat up, his pulse racing. He read it again. "Still watching me." Who? The memory of the black SUV parked outside the hostel flashed in his mind. The tinted windows. The way it lingered as if waiting.
His fingers trembled as he typed back: "What do you mean? Who's watching you?"
No reply.
He waited. Minutes ticked into hours, the silence stretching. He lay back down, but sleep wouldn't come. His room felt smaller, darker, as if shadows were creeping in. He thought he saw movement outside his window, but when he peered through the blinds, the street was empty.
---
Haunted by Lagos
The following days were worse. Jake tried to distract himself with schoolwork and basketball practice, but he couldn't shake the weight in his chest. At night, he dreamed of Lagos—the busy streets, the blaring horns, Alex's smile, Ade's fists. But in the dream, things always ended the same: the SUV door creaking open, faceless figures reaching for him.
He woke up sweating, gasping for air.
His mom noticed his tired eyes at breakfast. "Are you okay, honey? Jet lag still?"
"Yeah," Jake muttered, pushing his cereal around the bowl. He couldn't tell her. She wouldn't believe him.
At school, one of his friends slapped him on the back. "Yo, Jake! You're quiet these days. Did Nigeria make you boring?" They laughed, but Jake just forced a smile. Inside, he was boiling. They had no idea what he had gone through.
---
The Unsettling Feeling
It wasn't just the dreams. Something felt… off. He started noticing little things. A car parked across the street, engine running, but never moving. A man in a black hoodie standing too long near the basketball court after practice. The same woman sitting on a bench outside his school, sunglasses covering her eyes, every single afternoon.
Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe he was paranoid. But deep down, Jake knew the truth: what happened in Nigeria hadn't stayed in Nigeria.
---
That night, he opened Alex's message again. Just five words, but they echoed in his head like a warning bell.
"They're still watching me. Be careful."
Be careful of what?
Or… of who?
Jake lay awake staring at the ceiling, heart pounding. He thought leaving Lagos meant escaping the danger. But it was clear now—the danger had followed him home.
And whatever game had started in Nigeria was far from over.