The Cycle Begins: A Spark in the Dark

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It was a Saturday morning, marking six nights since Kamsi had arrived in Nigeria. Ada made her way to Wilhite Fitness Centre, located in Parkview Estate, an upscale neighbourhood near Shonibare Estate in GRA, not far from her father's residence.

She wore a simple ankle-length dress over her gym clothes, boarded a bus to her destination, got down at the entrance of the estate, and entered a restaurant located on her left. She used their restroom and emerged dressed in only her gym attire—a classy and well-fitted outfit that screamed luxury. Her sports bra and leggings were from an exclusive brand known for its high-quality materials and sleek design; the type of gym wear you'd expect from someone who could afford the best. She stuffed her dress into a designer handbag she had brought along.

From there, she jogged into the estate, blending in with the affluent environment as if she were simply making her way from one of the houses within. The Wilhite Fitness Centre was an ultramodern facility, complete with floor-to-ceiling glass windows and air conditioning. The gym was equipped with the latest machines, offering everything from personal trainers to a juice bar. The interior was spacious, with high ceilings and a minimalist design, making it the perfect place for those who took their fitness seriously.

Ada was no gym rat, so she contented herself with using a treadmill. But soon, it became obvious that she had underestimated its capabilities; barely ten minutes in, she was off, gasping for breath. She hadn't gotten close to her target, Zahira, who was also on a treadmill. Ada already thought the opportunity was lost. What was the point when it was so obvious to anyone watching that it was her first time in a gym?

Zahira was slim and tall, with a curvy figure, an oval-shaped face, long eyelashes, and small, well-shaped lips. Her skin was a glowing charcoal black, like her father's, and her flat tummy was easily noticeable since she was wearing a tube top and joggers.

All this Ada took in through the corner of her eye as she sat, gulping down a bottle of water. When she was done, she closed the bottle and placed it beside her, then glanced at her watch. It was a quarter to eight. She would soon leave since she was of no use here. Ada looked up, intending to take one last glance. It seemed Zahira had just received a phone call and was now walking toward where Ada sat, just a few meters away. When she finished her call, Zahira gave a cursory glance at Ada but then looked again, this time walking directly toward her. Ada wondered what was up.

"You're wearing Lululemon," Zahira said with an American drawl.

Ada looked down at her outfit as if she had only just realized what she had on. Thank God, she hadn't taken it for granted. The truth was that she had only just received it from the U.S. the previous day and prayed it might make an impression on Zahira. She shrugged.

"Not a lot of people wear that here, that's why I'm surprised. It's only popular in the U.S."

"My boutique makes sure to get the best," Ada replied, trying to make her tone sound supercilious.

"You own a boutique?" Zahira sort of dragged her words. "Heaven knows I've tried all the ones this place has to offer, and I'm so not impressed. Only the cloth's traded on my dad's business pleases me."

"Mine is not located here."

"Oh! I just assumed it would be. Where?"

Ada extracted a slip of paper from her jogger pocket and wrote down the address. She handed it over to Zahira.

"Ogba?" Zahira barely hid her contempt. "It's not even one of the sophisticated parts of Lagos."

"I would advise you not to judge a book by its cover." Ada got up. "I need to attend to a few things. I'm expecting a cargo today—a new set of items for my boutique. I hand-pick them, you know, and they usually arrive a day after I do." She picked up her handbag. "My name is Adaobi, by the way."