The apartment had begun to feel like an extension of him.
Dayo noticed it in the way he moved through the doorway now, no longer hesitating at the threshold, no longer feeling like a visitor in a space that belonged to someone else. His jacket went on the same hook each time. He knew which floorboard creaked near the kitchen. He knew the sound of Jennifer's cry well enough to distinguish hunger from discomfort without asking. And he knew, with the precision of a man who noticed everything, that Luna was watching him with a question she had not yet found the words to ask.
He arrived earlier than usual, slipping out of a meeting that Sharon had scheduled and driven straight to her building with the same urgency he used to reserve for studios and competitions. The elevator ride was too slow. The walk down her hallway felt longer than it was. When he knocked, Abishola opened the door.
