Chapter Three -Episode Two: The Day Everything Went Missing
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The boutique was only a few streets away from the main road, but by the time she stepped outside, it felt like she had walked much farther.
She stood for a moment under the afternoon sun, holding the strap of her bag and replaying the interview in her head.
Come back with a guarantor’s letter.
It wasn’t a job offer.
Not yet.
But it wasn’t a rejection either.
For the first time since arriving in Lagos, she felt like something might actually work out.
She looked down at the three copies of her CV inside her bag.
Three copies.
Three chances.
She smiled faintly.
Maybe she would finally have something to tell her parents when she called that evening.
Maybe she could tell her mother, I think I found something.
She started walking.
Lagos moved around her the way it always did—fast, loud and impatient.
Cars passed close to one another. Conductors shouted destinations. People crossed the road without waiting for traffic to slow down.
She held her bag a little tighter.
Inside it were her CVs, her phone, the little money she had left, and the Bible her mother had given her before she left home.
She had almost forgotten about the Bible.
Then she remembered her mother’s voice.
Keep this with you.
She smiled again.
She had kept it.
She just didn’t know how much she would need the words inside it.
She was thinking about calling home when everything happened at once.
A motorcycle came too close.
Someone bumped her shoulder.
She turned instinctively.
By the time she looked back, the strap of her bag was no longer on her shoulder.
Her hand reached out.
Nothing.
She froze.
For a second, her mind refused to understand.
Then she looked around.
The person who had bumped her was already gone.
The motorcycle had disappeared into the traffic.
And her bag was gone.
“No…”
The word came out quietly.
She checked her shoulder again as if the bag might somehow reappear.
It didn’t.
She searched the ground.
Nothing.
Her heart began beating faster.
“My bag…”
People moved around her without stopping.
She looked at every face, hoping someone would notice her panic.
Nobody did.
Lagos kept moving.
She stood there feeling as though the entire city had suddenly become a stranger.
Her phone was inside that bag.
Her money was inside that bag.
Her CVs were inside that bag.
Everything she had gathered together to give herself a chance was inside that bag.
She felt tears fill her eyes.
“No, no, no…”
She wiped them quickly.
Maybe someone had picked it up.
Maybe she would find it.
Maybe—
But deep down, she already knew.
The bag was gone.
She walked to the side of the road and sat down.
For several minutes, she simply stared ahead.
She didn’t know what to do.
She didn’t even know who to call because her phone was gone.
She thought about her mother.
She thought about the little money her parents had helped her with.
She thought about the job.
The guarantor’s letter.
The CVs.
The hope she had carried out of that boutique.
All of it seemed to disappear with the bag.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Then another.
She lowered her head and cried quietly.
Not because of the money alone.
Not because of the phone.
She cried because she was tired.
She had come to Lagos believing that trying was enough.
But suddenly, trying felt exhausting.
For a moment, she wondered if she had made a mistake by coming.
Maybe her parents had been right to worry.
Maybe Lagos was too much for her.
Maybe she should just go home.
But then another thought came.
Home with what?
She had barely started.
She couldn’t return after only a few weeks and say she had failed.
She wiped her face.
Then she remembered the Bible.
Her hand went to the small pocket inside her bag—or rather, where the bag should have been.
Her heart sank.
She couldn’t even remember exactly where she had kept it.
She stood up.
Maybe it was still there.
Maybe—
She stopped herself.
The bag was gone.
There was no reason to hope.
She started walking back toward her friend’s place.
The journey felt longer than it had earlier.
Every passing stranger made her nervous.
Every motorcycle made her turn around.
By the time she reached the house, her eyes were swollen.
Her friend opened the door.
One look at her face was enough.
“What happened?”
She tried to answer.
Nothing came out.
“What happened?” her friend asked again, this time stepping closer.
“My bag.”
“What about your bag?”
“They took it.”
Her friend stared at her.
“What?”
She nodded.
“Someone took it on the road.”
Her friend pulled her inside.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded again, even though she wasn’t.
Her friend asked what was inside.
She listed everything.
Phone.
Money.
CVs.
A few personal things.
Then she remembered.
“The Bible.”
Her friend looked at her.
“The one your mum gave you?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know if it was inside.”
For some reason, that hurt more than she expected.
She sat down.
Her friend brought her water.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Then her friend said quietly, “You will start again.”
She looked up.
“With what?”
“With whatever you have.”
She almost laughed.
“I don’t have anything.”
Her friend shook her head.
“You have yourself.”
The words stayed with her.
Later that evening, they searched through the few things she still had.
And there it was.
The Bible.
It had been tucked into a small separate compartment in the bag she had carried that morning, but somehow, during the rush, she had removed it and left it behind at the house.
She held it tightly against her chest.
For the first time that day, she smiled.
It was a small smile.
But it was real.
Her mother’s words came back to her.
Keep this with you.
She had.
And somehow, it was still with her.
She opened it and stared at the pages.
Nothing around her had changed.
She still had no phone.
No money.
No CV.
No job.
But something inside her had changed.
She realized that losing things did not automatically mean losing herself.
Maybe Lagos had taken her bag.
Maybe it had taken her money.
Maybe it had taken the little confidence she had built that morning.
But it had not taken her ability to begin again.
She closed the Bible.
Tomorrow, she would find a way to print another CV.
Tomorrow, she would ask about another job.
Tomorrow, she would try again.
She didn’t know how many times she would have to start over.
But she knew one thing.
She wasn’t going home defeated.
Not yet.
That was the day Lagos took something from her.
But it was also the day she made a decision.
Lagos would not take everything.
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