The bus slowed with a long, tired hiss, its engine groaning as it finally came to a stop.
Mike adjusted his position in the seat, stretching his stiff legs slightly before standing up. The journey had been longer than expected. Hours of sitting, of watching unfamiliar roads pass by, of thinking too much.
Now he was here.
Ibadan.
He stepped down from the bus, his shoes hitting the dusty ground. Instantly, the noise hit him.
Voices everywhere.
Conductors shouting destinations.
Passengers arguing over change.
Hawkers weaving through the crowd, balancing trays of snacks and drinks on their heads.
"Pure water! Gala! Cold drink!"
The air smelled like a mixture of fried food, dust, and fuel.
Mike paused for a second, taking it all in.
This was not Delta.
Not home.
Everything felt faster here. Rougher. Louder.
"Corper! Corper! Make I help you carry bag!" a young boy rushed toward him, eyeing the backpack hanging from Mike's shoulder.
Mike shook his head lightly. "I'm good, thanks."
The boy didn't argue. He simply moved on to the next passenger.
Mike adjusted the strap of his bag and looked around again, trying to orient himself. He had seen pictures of Ibadan before. Heard stories. But being here physically… it was different.
More real.
More overwhelming.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, checking the message his brother had sent earlier that morning.
Nathan: "Remember why you dey go there. No waste this chance."
Mike stared at the message for a few seconds.
Then he locked his phone.
As if he could forget.
He exhaled slowly and began walking toward the road, his eyes scanning for a bike or taxi.
Being the last child of five had never been easy.
Three sisters. One elder brother.
And now… just his mother.
His father had died when he was five years old.
The memory was faint now—more like a feeling than a clear image.
But the impact?
That had never faded.
Life after that had been… survival.
School wasn't easy. Money was always tight. Every small success came with effort.
Now, at twenty-nine, serving as a corper, Mike knew this year wasn't just another phase.
It was an opportunity.
A turning point.
Or at least… it was supposed to be.
He finally found a bike and climbed on, giving directions to the corpers' lodge he had been assigned to.
As the bike moved, weaving through traffic, Mike held onto his bag tightly, his eyes scanning the streets.
Buildings stood close together.
Roads stretched endlessly.
People moved with purpose.
Everyone seemed to be chasing something.
Money.
Survival.
Opportunity.
Just like him.
By the time he arrived at the lodge, the sun was already beginning to set, casting an orange glow across the sky.
The building was modest.
Nothing special.
But it would do.
Inside, a few corpers sat outside, chatting and laughing. One of them glanced at him briefly.
"New guy?" he asked.
Mike nodded.
"Yeah."
"Welcome," the guy said casually before returning to his conversation.
Mike managed a small smile and moved inside.
His room was small.
A bed.
A thin mattress.
A fan that looked like it had seen better days.
He dropped his bag and sat down slowly, exhaling deeply.
This was it.
No comfort.
No familiarity.
Just him… and whatever came next.
Later that night, lying on his back, staring at the slow-moving fan above him, Mike felt something he hadn't expected.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Just… emptiness.
A quiet awareness that everything had changed.
He turned to his side and closed his eyes.
"This year must count," he whispered softly.
Outside, the sounds of Ibadan continued.
Unbothered.
Unaware.
And somewhere in the distance…
Fate was already moving toward him.