The drive to the set moved slowly through Lagos traffic, the kind that forced patience whether you liked it or not. Cars stretched ahead in long lines, horns coming from different directions without any real coordination, while people weaved through tight spaces with the kind of confidence that came from doing it every day.
Inside the car, the air felt heavier than usual.
Shina sat in the front passenger seat with his camera bag resting on his lap. His fingers pressed against the fabric, tightening and loosening without rhythm, like he was trying to steady himself but didn't know how.
Dayo noticed it without looking directly.
"You go tear that bag if you no relax," he said calmly.
Shina let out a short breath and forced his hands to stay still.
"Sorry."
From the back seat, Sharon leaned slightly forward, resting one arm over the headrest.
"You've been like this since morning," she said, her voice soft but direct. "Even when we were leaving the house."
