Her eyes widened slightly.
“Ah. Big city man.”
He nodded.
“Something like that.”
She smirked.
“I knew it. Only Lagos people fall into water with confidence.”
He chuckled.
“Is that a thing now?”
“It is now.”
They kept talking about everything and nothing—about the sea, about the city, about life. Fumi told stories that made no sense but somehow made him laugh. Henry listened as if every word mattered.
And slowly, something began to form. Not loud, not obvious, but present.
At one point, Fumi leaned closer again.
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think the sea pushed you to me on purpose.”
Henry tilted his head.
“Why?”
She smiled mischievously.
“Because I prayed for something big.”
He held her gaze.
“And I am the answer?”
She shrugged.
“You are not fish, but you are something.”
He laughed softly.
“I will take that.”
Then suddenly, voices echoed in the distance.
“Mr. Yelli!”
Henry’s expression shifted slightly. Fumi looked toward the sound.
“Ah. Your people have come.”
The crew ran toward them, relief flooding their faces.
“Sir, thank God! Are you okay?”
Henry stood up slowly.
“I am fine.”
Fumi stepped back, watching. Her expression changed slightly. Just slightly. Something she did not even notice herself.
Henry turned back to her. For a moment, he did not speak.
Fumi broke it.
“Well, you did not die. Congratulations.”
He smiled.
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