Chapter 3 CONNECTION

The following Monday was humid, the kind of heat that clung to your skin like regret. The street moved slower, weighed down by the sticky morning air, but Jude's heart felt light for once. He hadn't imagined their exchange. Her name-Alina-had echoed in his head all weekend. Two syllables that sounded like something rare. Something worth waiting for. He hadn't seen her since Saturday, but her voice, soft and measured, still played in his mind. He was used to noise, shouting, rushing. But her calm had disarmed him.

And now, for the first time in years, Jude found himself wanting to be seen by someone. Not pitied. Not tolerated. Seen. --- Alina stood by the pharmacy window, pretending to organize a shelf of cough syrups she'd already arranged twice. Her body was here, but her mind was across the street. She didn't know why that boy stuck with her. Jude. Even his name felt like rhythm. She had avoided people for so long, she had forgotten what it was like for someone to simply want nothing from her. He hadn't flirted. He hadn't pushed. He hadn't even asked why she always walked alone. That made her more curious-and more cautious. Her guard, always up, was beginning to flicker. --- The next time they saw each other, it was by accident. She was walking home, just after sunset. The market was thinning out. The heat had given way to a breeze that teased the wrappers of roasted corn vendors. Jude had stayed later than usual, helping a woman recover her lost phone data. When he closed up, he took a different route, cutting through the side streets. They crossed paths near a small roadside church. She was walking with her arms crossed, her headphones around her neck this time. He almost didn't recognize her without the morning light. She looked up first. "Hey," she said, surprised at herself. He smiled. "Didn't expect to see you here." "Same." They stood in silence for a beat. Then he added, "You live around here?" She nodded. "Just a few blocks down." "You walking alone?" She raised an eyebrow. "I've been walking alone since forever." He smiled again, nodding. "Fair." Another pause. This one less awkward. "Want company?" he asked gently. She hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't mind." They walked side by side, slowly. Jude didn't ask questions. He didn't try to fill the silence. Alina noticed that. It was the first time she had walked with someone and not felt the urge to build a wall with every step. --- "So," he finally said, "what do you listen to all the time?" She glanced at him. "Music. Instrumentals mostly." "No lyrics?" She shook her head. "Lyrics complicate things. I like music that just... floats." He nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense." "You?" she asked, surprising herself. He grinned. "I like all kinds. Afrobeats. Old-school. Sometimes gospel when things feel too heavy." "Gospel?" "Yeah. Not because I'm a saint. Just... sometimes I need to believe there's still light somewhere." Alina looked at him longer than she meant to. "Do you always talk like that?" she asked. "Like what?" "Like... like you've been through stuff." He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Because I have." She looked away. "Me too," she said quietly. They walked the next few steps in silence. --- A generator roared nearby, and a group of boys played football with a half-flattened bottle. Alina watched them kick and stumble. One of them fell. They all laughed. "I used to play with guys like that," Jude said. "What happened?" He gestured around. "Life." "Did you stop dreaming?" He looked at her. That question-it felt too close. "Maybe not stopped," he said. "Just... pressed pause." She nodded. They reached the corner of her street. "This is me," she said. He stopped. "Thanks for the walk," she added. He nodded. "Anytime." She turned, took a few steps, then turned back. "Jude?" "Yeah?" "I... I don't usually do this." He tilted his head. "Do what?" "Talk. Let people walk with me." "I figured." A small smile ghosted her lips. "Goodnight." "Goodnight, Alina." --- Later that night, Alina opened her journal. > "He asked if I stopped dreaming. I didn't answer. I don't know the answer." --- That week, something changed. They didn't plan meetings. They didn't text. They didn't follow each other on social media. But they began walking together-mornings, sometimes evenings. Always brief. Always quiet. They talked about music. Books. Childhood memories. Never too deep. Never too fast. Jude told her about his dream of opening a phone repair shop that wasn't on the street. "Like, a real one. With glass doors, air conditioning. A signboard that lights up." She smiled. "You'll get there." He chuckled. "I've never had someone say that to me." "You should hear it more." --- One evening, he asked, "Why do you always walk with your hands crossed?" She paused. Looked down. Realized she didn't even notice it anymore. "It's a habit." "From?" "Trying to hold myself together," she said. Then, as if catching herself, she laughed softly. "That sounded darker than I meant." He didn't laugh. "I get it," he said. --- The connection grew slowly. Not loud. Not messy. But real. They learned each other's silences. They didn't try to fix each other. Not yet. Maybe never. But in each other's presence, they began to unlearn the loneliness. --- One night, after walking her home, Jude turned to go but stopped. "Alina." She looked at him. "I don't know what this is. I don't want to rush you. But I like talking to you. I like... being around you." She didn't answer immediately. Then she said, "I'm still trying to figure out if I'm capable of being close to anyone again." He nodded. "I'll wait. Not forever. But... a while." "Why?" she asked. "Because," he said, "you look like someone who's worth waiting for." --- That night, she cried. Not because she was sad. But because no one had ever said that to her and meant it. And she knew-this connection, whatever it was-it was starting to matter. More than she planned. More than she was ready for.