Chapter 3
Kola stared at the bus ticket in his hand, the tiny piece of paper feeling heavier than it looked. The city was waiting, and with it, everything he didn't know yet—success, failure, excitement, danger. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn't budge.
His mother had hugged him longer than usual that morning, pressing a few naira into his hand with a whispered, "Be careful, my son." The memory lingered like a weight on his chest. Leaving meant opportunity, yes, but it also meant leaving behind everything familiar—his home, his routines, even Amara.
The bus hissed as it pulled away from the station. Kola watched the streets of his town fade into dust and sunlight. Fear coiled in his stomach, but beneath it, something else stirred—something sharp and alive. Hope, maybe.
The journey was long and quiet. Kola had no idea where to start, who to meet, or how to survive in the sprawling city that awaited him. But the thought of turning back never fully crossed his mind. He wasn't the same boy who had wandered the market streets weeks ago. That boy would have stayed.
When the city finally appeared, it was bigger than he'd imagined. Tall buildings cut into the sky, streets buzzed with noise, and the smell of fried food and exhaust hung thick in the air. Kola's chest tightened. This was real. This was now.
He stepped off the bus, gripping his bag like a lifeline. Somewhere out there was a chance for him to make something of himself—but first, he had to find work, a place to stay, and a way to keep his hope alive in a world that felt too large, too fast.
As he walked down the crowded street, weaving through people who didn't notice him at all, he felt a quiet determination rise in him. No one would hand him his dreams. He had to take them.
And somewhere deep in the city, something—he didn't know what yet—was waiting to test him.