Shopping

A man in the black suit sat in a sleek, black car parked just across from the hospital entrance. His sharp jawline was set with a calm seriousness, and the dark sunglasses he wore only added to his air of professionalism. With one hand on the steering wheel, he raised his phone to his ear, listening intently to the voice on the other end.

"Hello, young Miss," he said smoothly, his voice even and low. "He's awake and already discharged from the hospital."

He listened quietly, his eyes subtly tracking Ebilade and his brother through the rearview mirror. They were walking down the street, heads close together in conversation. After a pause, he spoke again. "I know. When he walked out of the hospital, he caused quite the stir. The doctors and nurses practically followed him, like moths to a flame. His twin brother was with him too." The man's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, into a slight smirk as he recalled the scene. "The brother, Ebipade, laughed so loud that it stopped passersby in their tracks. Everyone was staring at them, and then—after all that noise—they just walked away like nothing happened."

A moment passed as the person on the other end responded. The man's expression didn't change, though his posture shifted ever so slightly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening for a brief second before relaxing.

"Yes, young Miss," he said after a few more seconds of silence, his tone respectful. "I'll keep an eye on him and report every detail back to you."

He ended the call, slipping the phone back into his coat pocket in one fluid motion. His jaw clenched slightly as he tapped his fingers against the wheel, deep in thought. There was a hint of curiosity behind his stoic demeanor, but he quickly suppressed it, focusing on the task at hand.

With a quiet sigh, he started the engine, the low hum of the car coming to life under his fingertips. As he shifted into gear, his gaze briefly flicked to the side mirror where he could still see the twins walking further down the street.

Ebilade and Ebipade were easy to follow, though the man kept a careful distance, his movements precise and calculated. His eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses as he kept pace with them, his car gliding through the traffic as effortlessly as a shadow. He remained vigilant, not letting the brothers out of his sight for a moment. Every step they took, every subtle shift in their conversation—it was all part of the job now.

And he was very, very good at his job or so he thought.

"Why are we stopping here? I thought we were heading straight to your apartment," Ebipade asked, glancing out the window at the massive mall towering before them. His voice was casual, but the curiosity in his eyes betrayed him. He hadn't expected this detour.

Ebilade, who was seated in the front, turned toward his brother with a wide grin spreading across his face. "Well, I've got money now," he said, the excitement in his voice unmistakable. "Time to change the wardrobe, don't you think?"

Ebipade leaned back into his seat, his face lighting up with the same mischievous grin. "Count me in. I didn't bring anything with me when I came to Lagos."

That wiped the smile off Ebilade's face instantly. He furrowed his brows, shooting a confused look at his brother. "Wait, so what have you been wearing since you got here?"

Ebipade shrugged, his expression unbothered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Your clothes, of course." He spoke with a nonchalant tone, waving a hand as if to dismiss the concern entirely. "I mean, I came to Lagos thinking I'd annoy you for a bit, maybe stir up some old rivalry, then head back to Port Harcourt. But when I found out you'd been jumped, I couldn't just leave. I had to stick around and take care of you." His tone softened slightly at the mention of his brother's attack. "I even had to ask one of your coworkers—Blessing, I think that was her name—where you lived, so I could find your place. So, yeah, you can't blame me."

Ebilade sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. He didn't have the energy to argue, not after everything that had happened. His brother was always one to go with the flow, even if that meant taking over his wardrobe without permission. Without another word, Ebilade stepped out of the taxi, heading toward the mall entrance with a resigned but playful roll of his eyes.

Ebipade chuckled under his breath and quickly followed. As they stepped inside, the cool air conditioning hit their faces, and they were immediately greeted by rows of high-end stores. Designer labels flashed from every window, mannequins dressed in sleek outfits, taunting them with luxury.

Together, they wandered through the aisles, inspecting racks of clothing, occasionally sharing a laugh. Ebilade's eyes sparkled with excitement as he pulled a jacket off a hanger, holding it up for his brother to see. "What do you think? Pretty slick, huh?"

Ebipade tilted his head, examining the jacket with a thoughtful expression before breaking into a grin. "Yeah, but if you're getting one, we need matching ones."

Ebilade raised a brow, amused but slightly taken aback. "Matching outfits? Seriously?"

"Why not?" Ebipade shrugged, flashing a cheeky grin. "If I'm wearing your clothes anyway, might as well do it in style."

Ebilade laughed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "You're impossible."

The two brothers moved through the store like old friends rediscovering something they'd lost along the way—more than just clothes, but a shared sense of camaraderie they hadn't felt in years. With every new outfit, there was a bit of playful banter, a memory stirred, and the mood lightened.

After an hour or so of browsing, they walked out with bags full of designer clothes, their wallets lighter but their spirits lifted. Outside, the Lagos evening had settled in, the city bustling around them.

Ebilade raised his hand, signaling for a taxi. A bright yellow cab pulled up to the curb, and they tossed their bags in the back before climbing in.