She took him to the beach on their last full evening before the flight back, a stretch of Lagos coastline Afisa had recommended, quieter than the tourist strips, mostly fishermen packing up nets and a scattering of families enjoying the cooling air after a hot day, the Atlantic spread out gold and restless under a sky just beginning to soften toward evening.
"I wanted you to see this too," she said, sandals in hand, walking barefoot beside him at the tideline. "Not just the sites. Not just the work. This is mine too — the ordinary part, the part that has nothing to do with spreadsheets or funding delegations."
"I like the ordinary part." He glanced at her, something easy and unguarded in his expression that she'd been slowly, gratefully getting used to over the last week. "I think I've s
