Chapter 4 Confessions and Cornrows

The next time they met, it wasn't planned. At least not by Anaya. Khalid had dropped a casual Where do you get your hair done? in their chats two days ago, and she had replied without thinking: Mama Peace's, near Rumuola Junction. She didn't think he'd actually show up but he did. It was Saturday afternoon. The sun hung lazy and hot above Port Harcourt, and the smell of relaxer, burning scalp, and fried plantain filled the air outside the salon. Anaya sat between Mama Peace's knees, face scrunched as the woman tugged at her new growth.

Gospel music blasted from a radio in the corner and then he walked in. Black joggers. White tee. Cap turned backwards. He paused at the door like he wasn't sure if he was allowed in, then caught her eyes and grinned mama Peace squinted. Na who be that one wey dey smile like he get land for Dubai? Nobody, Anaya muttered. But her heart was already pacing. Khalid walked in slowly, taking in the scent, the sounds, the stares. "I need a retwist," he said to no one in particular. Mama Peace raised an eyebrow. We no do dreadlocks here, abeg. Try those boys under the bridge. He laughed, shameless. Then turned to Anaya. You look different. I have palm oil on my forehead Don't flatter me. Still beautiful. She shot him a glare, but couldn't hold it. After the salon, he waited outside with a bottle of Fanta and gala in hand like he'd known she wouldn't say no. They walked, again. This time, not as strangers. Not quite as friends. You ever think about cutting it all off? he asked. She shook her head. My dad says a woman's hair is her glory and what do you say? Anaya paused. I say it's just hair. But maybe that's me trying not to be my father's daughter all the time. He nodded. Being your own person's hard when someone already defined you. They stopped by a suya stand. He bought two sticks, passed her one. She didn't touch it. What if someone sees me with you? she asked. Then they'll see a girl buying suya with a boy. Not a sin. Yet. She smiled. Despite herself. Despite everything. Khalid turned serious. I'm not perfect. You know that. I'm not even trying to lie about who I was. But... being around you makes me want to tell the truth more. Anaya looked at him. Not the chain. Not the tattoos. Just him. The boy beneath it all. Then start now. Tell me something real. He hesitated. Then: I scam people. Mostly abroad. Women. I make them fall in love. Promise them things. Then I take their money. I'm good at it. Too good, the air turned cold. Anaya froze. Her suya stick remained untouched. So this... what is this? Another lie? He shook his head. This is the first thing I haven't faked in a long time. She didn't speak. Just stared. Then, quietly: You need to stop. I'm trying. Try harder. They parted at the junction. No promises. No verses. Just silence. That night, she didn't pray the distraction away. She prayed for him. And Khalid, miles away in a dark apartment, deleted two scam profiles from his phone. For the first time, the lie in his pocket felt heavier than his heart.