David did not realize how tense his body had been until he stepped away from the center of the party.
Ada was still holding his hand as they moved toward the staircase, her small fingers wrapped tightly around his, as though she did not trust the world enough to let him stand in it alone. The music grew slightly quieter with each step upward, fading from something overwhelming into something distant and manageable.
The upper floor was different.
Quieter.
More private.
Fewer people.
Those who stood there spoke in lower voices, their laughter more controlled, their presence less performative. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls revealed the night outside, the black surface of the lagoon reflecting scattered lights like broken pieces of the sky.
And standing near the railing was a familiar face.
Skywhite.
The moment Skywhite saw him, his shoulders dropped visibly, tension leaving his body in a way that made it obvious he had been holding it in.
"Finally," Skywhite said, exhaling deeply as he walked toward him. "I was wondering if you had already left."
His tone carried relief.
Real relief.
Skywhite was slightly taller than David, lean, sharp-eyed, dressed in a simple white shirt that matched the nickname everyone called him by. His real name was Joseph, but nobody used it anymore. He had earned "Skywhite" naturally — not because he tried to stand out, but because he didn't try at all.
He glanced briefly toward the staircase behind David, then back at him.
"I saw Tunde," he said quietly. "He didn't start anything, did he?"
David hesitated.
Ada answered for him.
"He tried," she said.
Skywhite blinked, noticing her properly for the first time.
"And you must be Ada," he said.
She studied him carefully.
"You're Skywhite," she replied.
He smiled faintly. "I invited him."
She nodded once, approving.
"Good."
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head slightly.
"I like her already."
Another voice joined them.
"You should."
David turned.
Gift stood beside Skywhite, her hand resting comfortably against his arm. She was calm in a way that did not demand attention, her presence steady rather than loud. Her eyes moved between David and Ada with open curiosity, not judgment.
"I was worried he wouldn't come," she said.
Skywhite nodded. "He almost didn't."
David didn't deny it.
Gift's gaze dropped briefly to the bracelet on his wrist, then back to his face, as though she understood something she hadn't been told directly.
"I'm glad you did," she said simply.
There was no hidden meaning behind it.
Just sincerity.
Skywhite suddenly looked over his shoulder.
"Oh, right," he said. "There's someone I want you to meet."
He stepped aside slightly and gestured toward the seating area behind him.
Two figures stood there.
A girl, and a child.
The girl looked to be around David's age, maybe a year younger. She wore a simple black dress that did not try too hard, her posture relaxed but not careless. Her hair framed her face naturally, and her eyes carried the quiet awareness of someone who observed more than she spoke.
Beside her stood a smaller girl, about Ada's age, holding her hand loosely.
"This is Mmeso," Skywhite said. "And her little sister, Divine."
Mmeso met David's eyes.
There was no immediate smile.
No forced reaction.
Just recognition.
The kind two strangers share when they are both trying to understand the other without words.
"This is David," Skywhite continued. "And you already met Ada, apparently."
Divine looked at Ada instantly, her eyes lighting up with interest.
Ada looked back.
Children recognized each other differently than adults did. Without social filters. Without performance.
Divine stepped forward first.
"Hi," she said.
Ada tilted her head slightly.
"Hi."
There was a brief silence.
Then Divine asked, "Did you come with him?"
She pointed at David.
"Yes," Ada replied.
Divine nodded, satisfied.
"Me too," she said, pointing at Mmeso.
That was enough.
Within seconds, the two girls drifted slightly away from the adults, their conversation beginning naturally, effortlessly, as though they had already known each other somewhere else.
David watched them for a moment.
Then he became aware of Mmeso still standing there.
Still looking at him.
Not intensely.
Not aggressively.
Just… present.
"You didn't want to come," she said.
It wasn't a question.
He blinked slightly, surprised.
"How did you know?"
She shrugged lightly.
"You have the look."
He frowned faintly. "What look?"
"The one people have when they expect to regret saying yes."
He let out a quiet breath of amusement.
"That obvious?"
She shook her head.
"Only if you're paying attention."
There was no mockery in her voice.
No judgment.
Just honesty.
He studied her more carefully now.
She wasn't trying to impress anyone.
She wasn't performing.
She was simply existing there, comfortably inside herself.
"I almost didn't," he admitted.
She nodded, as though that confirmed something she already believed.
"But you did," she said.
"Yes."
She glanced toward Ada, who was now showing Divine the bracelet.
"She's the reason, isn't she?"
He didn't answer immediately.
He didn't need to.
Mmeso saw it anyway.
"She must love you a lot," she said quietly.
He looked at his sister.
"Yes," he said. "She does."
Mmeso smiled then.
Not wide.
Not dramatic.
Just enough to exist.
"I think that's rare," she said.
He found himself agreeing.
Neither of them spoke for a few seconds after that.
And yet the silence didn't feel uncomfortable.
It felt balanced.
Natural.
The kind of silence that didn't demand to be filled.
Behind them, the party continued.
Below them, the city moved endlessly.
But up here, in this quiet space above the noise, something simple had begun.
Not destiny.
Not revelation.
Just connection.
And sometimes…
That was where everything started.