Saturday morning arrived with the kind of golden light that made even Lagos feel forgiving. Elara stood by her window, watching the first hints of sunrise paint the skyline in soft pinks and oranges. She'd packed light as instructed: a small duffel with swimsuits, sundresses, comfortable shorts, sunscreen, and the bare essentials. No laptop. No work emails forwarded to her phone. For once, she was determined to disconnect.
The buzzer sounded at exactly 7:58 a.m. Punctual. She almost smiled.
Downstairs, Kairo leaned against his Yamaha, two takeaway cups from a nearby café balanced in one hand. He wore faded jeans, a simple white tee that clung in all the right places, and sunglasses perched on his head. The morning breeze ruffled his dreads as he spotted her.
"Coffee, as promised," he said, handing her a cup. "Black, two sugars. Figured that's your vibe."
She took it, inhaling the rich aroma. "You remembered from the office chat last week?"
"I pay attention." His eyes flicked over her—casual maxi dress in soft teal, hair in loose twists, minimal makeup. "You clean up nice for 8 a.m."
"Flattery won't get you anywhere," she replied, but she slid onto the bike behind him without protest, wrapping her arms around his waist. The now-familiar solidity of him felt less strange this time. Almost... comforting.
The ride to Lekki Conservation Centre took them out of the dense urban core, past billboards and half-built estates, until the road opened into greener stretches. Palm trees lined the highway, and the air lost some of its exhaust tang. Elara rested her chin lightly on Kairo's shoulder, watching the city give way to something wilder.
They arrived just as the centre opened. The ticket booth was quiet, the morning crowd still thin. After paying entry, they headed straight for the famous canopy walkway—a suspended metal-and-wood path that snaked high above the rainforest floor, offering views of mangroves, monkeys, and the occasional glimpse of the lagoon beyond.
The walkway swayed gently under their feet, ropes creaking like an old ship. Elara gripped the netting instinctively at first, but Kairo moved with easy confidence, pausing every few meters to point out birds or explain how the mangroves filtered the brackish water.
"You're such a tour guide," she teased.
"Comes with the territory. I've shot here more times than I can count—early mornings when the light filters through like this." He gestured at the sunbeams piercing the canopy, turning leaves into stained glass.
They reached a wider platform, a rest spot with benches overlooking a small clearing. Below, a family of Mona monkeys chattered and swung between branches. Elara leaned on the railing, breathing in the earthy, green scent.
"This is... peaceful," she admitted. "I didn't know Lagos had places like this."
"Most people don't look beyond the traffic and the hustle." Kairo stood beside her, close enough that their arms brushed. "But it's here if you slow down."
A comfortable silence settled. Then he spoke again, quieter.
"You know why I signed up for that Urban Quest?"
She glanced at him. "To annoy random women?"
He laughed softly. "Partly. But mostly because I've been... stuck. Chasing freelance gigs, one-night connections, never staying anywhere long enough to get attached. Thought maybe shaking things up would jolt something loose."
Elara studied his profile—the strong jaw, the thoughtful crease between his brows. "And did it?"
His gaze met hers. "Jolted me straight into your path. Can't decide if that's a curse or a blessing."
Her heart did a strange flip. "You barely know me."
"I know enough. You're fierce, smart, don't suffer fools. You hide behind that sharp tongue, but there's softness underneath. And you taste like palm wine when you laugh."
Heat flooded her cheeks. "Smooth talker."
"Truth talker." He turned to face her fully. "Question is... what are you running from, Elara?"
The question caught her off guard. She looked away, out over the treetops. "Nothing. Everything. My job eats my life. Relationships... they always end up feeling like another project to manage. Easier to stay single, stay in control."
"Control's overrated," he said gently. "Sometimes you have to let the current take you."
She met his eyes again. Something raw passed between them—vulnerability, desire, the edge of something irreversible.
Kairo reached out, tucking a stray twist behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her cheek. "I'm not asking for forever. Just... this weekend. No games. No walls."
Elara's breath hitched. She could step back. Keep hating him as her favorite pastime—safe, familiar.
Instead, she closed the distance.
Their first kiss was tentative, testing. Then deeper, hungrier. His hands framed her face; hers slid up his chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath. The walkway swayed beneath them, mirroring the shift inside her. When they broke apart, both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
"Okay," she whispered. "This weekend."
He smiled against her lips. "Good choice."
They lingered there a while longer, trading softer kisses, quiet laughter, stolen touches. The monkeys below seemed to approve, chattering louder.
Eventually, they descended, hands linked, and made their way to the resort check-in. The voucher covered a beachfront suite at one of the upscale Lekki spots—private plunge pool, ocean views, the works.
The room was stunning: white linens, wooden accents, floor-to-ceiling glass opening to a terrace where the Atlantic rolled in lazy turquoise waves. Elara dropped her bag and spun in a slow circle.
"This is insane."
Kairo kicked the door shut behind them. "Perks of winning."
She turned to him, playful challenge in her eyes. "So... what now, Adebayo?"
He crossed the room in two strides, pulling her close. "Now? We make the most of it."
The afternoon blurred into heat and skin and whispered promises. They swam in the plunge pool, bodies slick and laughing. They ordered room service—jollof rice, grilled prawns, chilled wine—and ate on the terrace as the sun dipped lower. Conversation flowed easy now, barriers crumbling with every shared story.
But as evening fell, that faint unease from the rooftop returned.
While Kairo was in the shower, Elara stepped onto the terrace for air. The beach stretched empty below, waves whispering secrets. Then she saw it—a figure standing at the edge of the property line, half-hidden by palms. Too far to make out features, but the posture felt deliberate. Watching.
Her skin prickled. She blinked, and the figure was gone.
Probably nothing. A guest. A staff member.
Still, when Kairo emerged, towel around his waist, water droplets tracing his chest, she didn't mention it. Not yet.
Instead, she pulled him down onto the lounger, letting his warmth chase away the chill.
But in the back of her mind, questions stirred.
Who had been watching at the bar?
And why did it feel like the real hunt—the dangerous one—was only just beginning?
As night wrapped around them, tangled in sheets and each other, Elara pushed the shadow aside. For now, this was enough.
Hating him had been easy.
Wanting him? That was terrifying.
And exhilarating.