Leo had not planned to stay late.
That was the lie he told himself as the sky darkened and the last car rolled out of the wash bay, water dripping off its sides like it was shedding the day. His workers packed up slowly, laughing, tired, eager to get home. Leo nodded at them, gave a few instructions for the morning, and watched them leave one by one.
When the gate finally closed, the silence settled.
This was the part no one saw.
He sat on the low concrete step outside the garage, elbows resting on his knees, phone glowing in his hand. Notifications blinked at him — supplier reminders, unpaid balances, a message from the landlord about rent due in two weeks.
Numbers. Always numbers.
He rubbed his face with both hands, grease and all, not caring anymore.
Sophia's visit earlier that week still lingered like a bruise you pretended not to feel. Not because he missed her — he didn't — but because she had seen him. Seen where he worked. What he built. What he still lacked.
And the old voice had woken up.
Is this enough?
His phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a bill.
Unknown Number:
I heard you're expanding. Let's talk.
Leo frowned.
He typed back cautiously.
Leo: Who is this?
The reply came quickly.
Unknown Number: Musa. From Surulere. Chike gave me your contact.
Chike. Of course.
Leo leaned back against the wall. Chike was the kind of man who always knew someone who "knew someone." The kind of man who moved fast, talked big, and never seemed to lack cash — at least on the surface.
Leo: Talk about what?
A pause.
Then:
Musa: Opportunity. Real one.
Leo exhaled slowly.
He should ignore it. He knew that. But curiosity — and something uglier — pulled at him.
Leo: I'm listening.
They met two days later at a small lounge off the main road. Not flashy, not cheap. Neutral territory. The kind of place where men pretended not to watch each other.
Musa arrived ten minutes late, dressed sharp, smelling expensive. He smiled like someone who had never been told no.
"Leo," he said, extending his hand. "Good to finally meet you."
Leo shook it. Firm. Measured.
"I hear you're doing good work," Musa continued, settling into his seat. "Your name comes up."
Leo doubted that. But he nodded anyway.
Musa leaned forward. "I won't waste your time. You're good with your hands. But hands can only do so much."
Here it comes, Leo thought.
"You need capital," Musa said plainly. "Bigger space. Better equipment. Maybe a second location."
Leo crossed his arms. "And you're offering?"
"A partnership," Musa replied smoothly. "I bring the money. You bring the skill."
Leo studied him. "What's your cut?"
Musa smiled wider. "We'll discuss that later."
Red flag.
Leo shifted in his seat. "I don't do vague."
Musa laughed softly. "Relax. I like you. You remind me of myself before I leveled up."
Leo's jaw tightened.
"And how did you level up?" he asked.
Musa's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I stopped being patient."
The words sat heavy between them.
Musa slid his phone across the table, showing pictures — a larger garage, shiny tools, men in branded uniforms. Success, curated.
"You could have this in six months," he said. "People would stop looking down on you."
That hit harder than Leo expected.
"I don't need anyone's approval," Leo said.
Musa shrugged. "Of course not. But approval opens doors."
Leo's phone vibrated. A message from his landlord again.
He didn't check it.
"What's the risk?" Leo asked quietly.
Musa's gaze sharpened. "Every opportunity has one."
"That's not an answer."
Musa leaned back. "Let's just say… the money needs to move fast. No delays. No paperwork that asks too many questions."
There it was.
Leo felt his pulse quicken. He thought of the nights he went home exhausted, the way Sophia once avoided introducing him properly, the way people still asked when he would get a "real" place.
He thought of being seen.
"I need time," he said.
Musa nodded. "I'll give you three days."
That night, Leo couldn't sleep.
He lay on his mattress, staring at the ceiling fan as it creaked and spun. The numbers replayed in his head — debts, costs, possibilities. Every version of the future split into two paths.
Safe. Slow. Invisible.
Or fast. Risky. Loud.
He picked up his phone and opened his gallery by accident. His finger hovered over an old photo — Sophia at a restaurant, dressed elegantly, smiling at something off-camera. Him cropped out.
He locked the phone.
This wasn't about her.
It was about him.
By morning, he had decided.
Musa didn't look surprised when Leo called.
"So?" he asked.
"I'm in," Leo said.
A pause. Then laughter. "I knew it."
"On my terms," Leo added. "No surprises."
Musa chuckled. "There are always surprises, my brother. But you'll manage."
As Leo ended the call, a knot tightened in his stomach.
He told himself it was nerves.
He told himself this was growth.
But deep down, something whispered that the cost would be more than money.
He wiped his hands on a rag, grease staining it darker than before.
And went back to work.
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