The sun blazed like it was angry that day an unrelenting Lagos heat that turned even shaded spaces into slow-cooking ovens. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the hotel in Victoria Island was buzzing. Beats pumped from a nearby speaker, people swam and laughed, and the scent of grilled meat floated through the air like a promise.
Mike sat by the pool with his feet in the water, headphones around his neck, his phone screen cracked and dark. It wasn't dead just empty, like his account balance. He wasn't here to show off. He was here because Lance had begged him to come, said he needed to breathe for once, to "let the hustle rest small."
"Guy, your face dey always like say your destiny miss road," Lance joked earlier, handing him a bottle of Coke. "Abeg smile. Woman fit see you now con think say you be ritualist."
Mike had laughed. A little. But the truth was heavier than jokes. Rent was two weeks late. His laptop, the one he used for software gigs, had crashed three nights ago after a random power surge. The client who promised him 150k had ghosted without a word. And in the midst of all that, the oracle's words still haunted him like a scent that wouldn't leave his shirt.
"Stay away from her. Woman is your delay."
He hadn't told Lance. He hadn't told anyone. Who would understand? Lagos boys don't talk about prophecy they drink, they grind, they fake smiles and hide scars.
Mike's eyes wandered, not looking for anything in particular. Then he saw her.
By the far end of the pool, where the sun kissed the edge of the water, stood a woman. She wasn't dancing. She wasn't shouting. She just… was. Still, tall, confident in a quiet way that pulled attention like a tide.
She wore a long sheer wrap over a simple black swimsuit, her brown skin glowing like it knew the sun personally. Her hair was braided into thick rows, pulled up into a knot that framed her sharp cheekbones. She wasn't wearing makeup, and somehow, that made her even more beautiful.
Something about her made the air feel still. Made Mike sit up straighter.
Lance noticed. "Wetin dey?" he asked, following his gaze. "Ahhh. That one? My guy, you don start."
Mike ignored him. Stood up. Dusted invisible dust off his shorts. And began walking toward her.
She looked up as he approached, blinking like someone adjusting to sudden light.
"Hi," Mike said, offering a soft smile.
"Hi," she replied, cautious but not cold.
"You look like you're about to jump in," he said, nodding at the pool.
She glanced down at the water. "I'm thinking about it."
"First time?"
She smirked. "Is it that obvious?"
"Not really," he said, chuckling. "But you're holding that railing like it insulted your family."
She laughed a real one. It sounded like relief.
"I'm Danika," she said, finally turning to face him fully.
"I'm Mike. You want me to show you how not to drown?"
Danika looked at the water again, then back at him. "You're sure I won't pull you down with me?"
Mike smiled. "If I drown saving a beautiful woman, at least my obituary go sweet."
That made her laugh harder. A few heads turned in their direction, but neither noticed.
Within minutes, they were at the shallow end. Mike stepped into the water first and offered his hand. Danika took it cautiously at first then followed him in, one step at a time.
The water reached her waist. She shivered.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah… just cold. And nervous."
"You're safe."
He guided her through the basics how to breathe, how to float, how not to panic. She clutched his arm once when she slipped slightly. He didn't tease her. He steadied her, his voice calm and firm.
"You're doing great," he said softly. "Just trust the water. It can carry you if you don't fight it."
Danika looked at him, her eyes serious now. "Do you always talk like that?"
"Only when I meet someone worth talking to."
They stood in the water like that close but not too close until the sun began to dip slightly. Then they moved to the pool's edge, sitting side by side, dripping and quiet.
Mike glanced at her. "You live around here?"
"Not really. Mainland," she replied. "Came with a friend… who already left me."
Mike laughed. "Then she has bad timing."
"She's always like that. Says I need to 'get out more.' Maybe she's right."
They fell into easy conversation. She told him about her work hairstyling, mostly, under someone else's shop. No fancy shop name, just hustle. He told her he was into tech, mostly app design and freelancing, trying to make ends meet.
"Trying" being the key word.
He left out the broken laptop. The lack of contracts. The cramped room he shared with six other guys in Egbeda. But even without those details, Danika didn't look at him like he was small. She listened. She laughed. She nodded when he spoke about dreams.
At one point, he looked at her and said, "You know, you're really beautiful."
She tilted her head. "You just noticing?"
He smiled. "No. I noticed from the beginning. I'm just brave enough to say it now."
She smiled, eyes soft. "You're smooth."
"Only when I mean it."
A beat passed. Silence settled, but it wasn't awkward. It was full. Like a breath being held by both of them.
Danika glanced at the sky. "It's getting late."
Mike nodded, wishing time would freeze.
She stood, wrapping her cover cloth around her waist again. He stood too.
"You have a number?" he asked.
She paused for a second, then pulled out her phone.
They exchanged digits.
"I'll text you," Mike said.
"I'll think about replying," she teased.
He laughed. "Fair enough."
As she turned to leave, she looked back once. "Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for not letting me drown."
He smiled. "Anytime."
And just like that, she was gone swallowed by the crowd, the music, the Lagos sun. But Mike stood there for a while longer, dripping water, heart hammering like he'd just swum the entire Atlantic.
He didn't know her story. Didn't know what demons she wrestled with. But something in him something deeper than words told him this wasn't just another girl.
Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was fate.
Or maybe it was the beginning of something that would either save him… or tear him apart.