CAUGHT BETWEEN

The morning air reeked of diesel, sweat, and burning akara oil-the familiar perfume of Lagos in motion. Street vendors were already screaming over each other in a chaotic harmony, and buses belched impatience as conductors slapped their sides like war drums. Jude stood at the corner of Ojuelegba under a bent traffic light that hadn't worked in months. His worn-out sneakers bore the scars of long days, and his tattered hoodie hung off his shoulders like a second skin. He wasn't just part of the street-he was the street. A fixture. A survivor.

He crouched beside a low wooden table cluttered with phone screens, sim tools, chargers, and repair tools barely holding themselves together with tape and hope. His fingers worked with speed and precision as he pulled apart a broken iPhone, ignoring the noise around him. He had taught himself how to fix phones at fifteen-YouTube, trial and error, and sometimes, luck. Now, at twenty, he was the best around the area. He didn't smile often, not anymore. But today, something different stirred in his chest. She had walked by again. She always came around this time-usually between 7:30 and 8:00 a.m.-like clockwork. Dressed simply, never flashy, yet always clean and composed, as if the madness of the world couldn't touch her. Most days she wore earphones, eyes down, lips neutral. Not sad, not angry-just unreadable. Jude never spoke to her. He never dared. He didn't even know her name. But he watched her. And something about her silence was louder than everything else around him. The first time he noticed her, she had paused beside a hawker selling roasted corn. She hadn't bought anything-just stared at the flames as if lost in them. The fire reflected in her eyes, and for a split second, she looked human, vulnerable. But then she blinked, turned, and was gone. He'd looked for her every day since. "Guy! You dey hear me so?" Jude blinked and turned toward Bala, his apprentice. The boy was sixteen, full of mouth and muscle he hadn't earned yet. Bala pointed at the half-fixed phone Jude had left open like a wounded animal. "You just dey look that girl again abi? E don reach like three weeks now, you dey watch her like film." "Go wash the tools," Jude muttered without looking at him. "Love dey worry you, bro," Bala teased, dancing backward with a crooked grin. Jude chuckled under his breath. Love? That wasn't what this was. He didn't believe in that stuff. He'd seen how quickly love faded-his mother's last boyfriend had said he loved her right before he disappeared with their rent money. No, this wasn't love. But it was somethin