Chapter 5 TRUST TESTED

The dry season crept in quietly, brushing Lagos with warm winds and orange skies. Dust settled on windows and clung to clothes, and people began walking with bottles of water tucked into bags, preparing for the heat. Jude felt it in his bones-not the weather, but the pressure. Business at the kiosk had slowed. Phone repairs were down. Bala was skipping shifts more often, and Jude had barely made enough that week to buy food, let alone save. The city didn't care if you were trying to be better. It just swallowed you if you weren't fast enough. He stared at the piece of paper on his lap.

A sketched layout of a small shop. Walls painted white. A front desk. Organized workbenches. A backup power source. A small fridge in the corner. His name on the signboard-JTech Repairs. It was more than a dream. It was a plan. And plans needed money. Jude leaned back against the bench, exhaling. His cigarette box was empty, crushed in his pocket. He had stopped buying. Cold turkey. It wasn't easy, but he had promised himself. If he was serious about becoming someone better-for himself, not just for Alina-he had to quit everything that held him back. But he was running out of options. --- He visited three people that week. Old acquaintances, men he used to run small bets with, one or two ex-customers he'd helped in the past. "Bro, if I get that kind of money, I go dey shop for Dubai now." "Business dey hard. Even me I dey look for who go run me something." "Jude, I no dey do loans. You know say e dey spoil friendship." Door after door closed. By Friday, he sat behind his kiosk, head bowed, staring at his cracked phone screen. His chest was tight with frustration. Not just because he was broke-but because for once, he had a real idea. A clean one. One that didn't involve cutting corners or fast hustles. He wanted to build something, and nobody believed in it. He thought about Mira. How she used to say he was meant for more. How she'd smile even when she could barely sit up. Her death hadn't broken him in one day-it had chipped away at him slowly, until it became a scar that never really healed. He picked up his phone. Hovered over Alina's contact. Then put it down. Then picked it up again. His thumb hovered. Don't do it, his pride said. You've got no one else, his reality whispered. He sent the text. > Hey. Can we talk? I need to ask you something. The typing dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then returned. > Sure. Want to meet after work? He exhaled. --- They sat on the curb near her street, where the traffic noise hummed in the background and the air smelled faintly of roasted yam and dust. She looked at him, waiting. Jude rubbed his hands together, nerves twitching. "I have an idea," he began, "for a shop. A small one. Nothing big. But clean. Professional. I've drawn it out. Done the math. I know it'll work." Alina listened, eyes steady. He continued, voice lower, "But I don't have the capital. I've tried everyone I know. No one wants to help. I wasn't going to ask you. But... I didn't know who else to call." Silence. Then she asked, "How much?" "150K," he said quickly. "I can stretch it to make it work." She looked away, lips pressed. "I'm not asking for a handout," Jude added. "If you loan me the money... I'll pay it back. First profit I make, you get your share." She didn't speak for a while. He started to stand. "Forget it. I shouldn't have-" "No," she said. He froze. "I'll give it to you." Jude sat down slowly. "But on two conditions," she said, looking him in the eye. "Name them." "One, it's a loan. You will pay me back." "Absolutely." "Two," she continued, "if this shop becomes something real... you don't disappear. You don't become someone else. You don't let it change who you are now." Jude blinked. "I... I won't." "Promise?" He nodded. "Promise." Alina stood. "I'll get the money to you next week." He stood too, unsure what to say. "You believed in me?" he asked. She looked away, then back at him. "Maybe I just needed to believe in something." --- That night, Jude didn't smoke. Didn't cry. Didn't gamble. He lay on his mat, staring at the ceiling. And for the first time since Mira died, he felt like maybe-just maybe-he had a future.