Chapter 3 Night of the Sea Festival

By late afternoon, the whole village of Aiyetoro had transformed.

Bright fabric banners rustled in the ocean breeze, lanterns glimmered like tiny suns, and the tang of smoked fish and palm-oil rice filled the air. Every corner of the village hummed with anticipation as drums began to sound - slow and rhythmic at first, then faster, stirring the dancers to their feet.

Folakemi stood by the Sea Whisper Inn, fastening a string of tiny lanterns along its wooden porch rail. Billy padded around her feet, barking excitedly as children ran past carrying baskets of hibiscus blooms.

From across the path came Mrs. Alade's sing-song voice. "My dear Folakemi! Ah-ah, you've outdone yourself o. Maami would be so proud to see the Inn looking so lively tonight!"

"Thank you, Mama," Folakemi replied warmly. "And thank you for including me. Being part of this tradition again... it means everything."

Mrs. Alade winked. "That's what 'Happy City' is all about - family, laughter, and celebrating together. Don't hide away tonight. Make sure you dance!"

Before Folakemi could respond, Wale appeared at the gate, grinning broadly.

"There's my partner," he teased. "The arch looks perfect, Folakemi. Ready for the festivities?"

She felt a flutter of happiness at the sight of him. Dressed in a crisp white buba top and dark drawstring pants, Wale looked at ease, his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes warm.

"I am," she replied, tucking a loose braid behind her ear.

"Then let's go," he said, offering his arm.

Together, they crossed into the heart of the village as the first dancers began their procession.

As they walked, Folakemi took it all in - the village alive with colour and sound, familiar faces calling greetings, the ocean twinkling under the rising moon.

Some villagers wore elaborate costumes adorned with beads and seashells, their feet beating out complex steps to the rhythm of the drums. Others handed out small calabashes of palm wine, toasts and prayers exchanged for a bountiful fishing season. Children squealed with delight as a group of masked dancers - faces hidden behind carved wooden visages - spun past in a swirling blur.

And then came the sound of chants - an elder's deep, melodic voice praising Yemoja, goddess of the ocean and mother of rivers. Wale leaned closer to Folakemi so she could hear him over the drumming.

"Every year," he said softly, "our elders offer thanks to the water. They believe the sea is alive and listening - so tonight we dance and sing and give her our gratitude."

Folakemi felt a shiver of awe. Maami had told her these stories too. Stories of how Yemoja cradled the village like one of her children, bringing fish and safe currents as long as they kept their hearts pure and respectful.

That thought brought a gentle warmth to Folakemi's chest.

And tonight, surrounded by all this life and light, she felt Maami's spirit nearer than ever.

"Folakemi! Wale! Come dance with us!"

Sade Balogun appeared in a flash of yellow and green fabric, hands held up in a graceful rhythm. Behind her, Chidi Okeke laughed and clapped time as a group of dancers pulled Wale and Folakemi into their circle.

The drummers quickened the pace. Folakemi moved self-consciously at first - it had been years since she danced like this - but soon her body remembered what it was like to move with joy, feet beating the packed earth as hands lifted to the sky.

Beside her, Wale laughed, spinning Billy in a goofy circle while Sade cheered them on.

Lights glimmered in the palm trees overhead, and Folakemi felt as if she were floating, carried by the rhythm of the ocean, the pounding drums, and the joy of being home.

Later, when the dancers paused to catch their breath, Wale gestured toward a quiet spot near the water's edge.

"Come," he invited.

Together they slipped away from the crowd and followed the soft path down to a little wooden jetty. Here, the moon shone like a polished coin across the tide pools and mangroves.

Crickets hummed in the reeds, and the distant drumming was a gentle pulse in the background.

They sat side by side on the worn planks, legs dangling above the water.

For a moment, they were quiet, sharing the easy silence of old friends who never truly felt far apart.

Wale spoke first.

"I missed this," he murmured, looking out at the shimmering tide.

"Me too," Folakemi replied softly.

The scent of salt and smoke clung to his clothes, and his hands rested close to hers.

"You were always happiest when we were here," he added, voice gentle.

Folakemi smiled, heart aching sweetly.

"I was," she agreed. "And tonight, I feel that way again."

Wale glanced at her then, his eyes reflecting the light of the lanterns swinging gently in the village.

"You belong here, Folakemi," he said quietly. "You and Maami kept this village alive in more ways than you know. Whatever happens with Sea Whisper Inn - I just want you to remember that."

A lump rose in Folakemi's throat.

"Thank you," she whispered.

And then - in that perfect, hushed moment - he reached over and took her hand, his thumb brushing her knuckles.

The warmth of his touch sent a flutter up her arm and across her chest.

And she realised then, as the distant drums played on and the ocean lapped gently at the wooden pilings, that this was more than homecoming.

This was the quiet beginning of something new.

That night, Folakemi returned to Sea Whisper Inn with a lightness in her heart and the rhythm of the festival still humming in her veins.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges - the work of fixing up the inn, making plans for its reopening, and navigating her feelings for the boy who had never quite left her heart.

But tonight?

Tonight was perfect.

And as she lay in bed, listening to the ocean's breath outside her window and the lanterns flicker against the darkness, she whispered a silent thank you into the night.

For Maami.

For Wale.

And for this beautiful village that had finally welcomed her home.