CAUGHT BETWEEN

aring for the heat. Jude felt it in his bones-not the weather, but the pressure. Business at the kiosk had slowed. Phone repairs were down. Bala was skipping shifts more often, and Jude had barely

rs or fast hustles. He wanted to build something, and nobody believed in it. He thought about Mira. How she used to say he was meant for more. How she'd smile even when she could barely sit up. Her death hadn't broken him in one day-it had chipped away at him slowly, until it became a scar that never really healed. He picked up his phone. Hovered over Alina's contact. Then put it down. Then picked it up again. His thumb hovered. Don't do it, his pride said. You've got no one else, his reality whispered. He sent the text. > Hey. Can we talk? I need to ask you something. The typing dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then returned. > Sure. Want to meet after work? He exhaled. --- They sat on the curb near her street, where the traffic noise hummed in the background and the air smelled faintly of roasted yam and dust. She looked at him, waiting. Jude rubbed his hands together, nerves twitching. "I have an idea," he began, "for a shop. A small one. Nothing big. But clean. Professional. I've drawn it out. Done the math. I know it'll work." Alina listened, eyes steady. He continued, voice lower, "But I don't have the capital. I've tried everyone I know. No one wants to help. I wasn't going to