Three friends came with her.
Daniel waited in the car, watching through tinted glass.
Netchi walked up to the stand and looked at Adese like something unpleasant on the floor.
“So this is your life now,” she said loudly. “Selling coffee on the roadside like a common hawker.”
Her friends laughed.
A crowd gathered.
Adese wiped her hands on her apron. “Good afternoon, Netchi. Would you like to order?”
Netchi reached into her bag and pulled out a cheque.
“Ten million naira. Take it. Buy yourself some dignity.”
Then she pulled out a property deed.
“A shop in Lekki Phase One. I bought it this morning. Consider it charity.”
The crowd murmured.
Netchi leaned closer.
“Now everyone can see the difference between us. I give. You receive. That is how it has always been. That is how it will always be.”
She turned and left.
Adese looked at the cheque. Then the deed. Then at the departing G-Wagon.
Then she folded both carefully and placed them in her apron pocket.
That night, she showed them to her brothers.
“She meant it as an insult,” Adese said, “but ten million naira and a shop in Lekki… I can turn this into a real café.”
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