Uche turned to him, eyes wide, taking in the chaos of the city. It was overwhelming. The number of people, the noise, the honking cars, the hawkers shouting to sell their goods. It was nothing like the quiet of their village. But there was something about it, something intoxicating.

“We’re here, Oga. What now?” Uche asked, already looking a little lost.

Chijioke took a deep breath. They didn’t have much, but they had each other, and that was enough.

“We start small,” Chijioke said, voice steady. “We find a place to stay first. Then we look for work. And in a few months, we’ll be the ones making the calls.”

They found a cheap room in a rented apartment in Yaba, a neighborhood known for its buzzing energy and young crowd. It wasn’t much — just a tiny room with peeling walls and a rickety bed. But it was theirs, and for now, that was enough. The first night was spent quietly, both of them lying in the dim light, listening to the hum of the city below.

“We’ll make it, right?” Uche asked, voice tinged with uncertainty.

“We will,” Chijioke replied, though he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his gut. He was confident, yes, but deep down, the risks were still heavy on his mind.

The next few days were a blur of job hunting. They went from one place to another, filling out applications, dropping off their resumes, talking to anyone who would listen. It wasn’t easy. Lagos had a way of swallowing people whole, spitting them out when they weren’t strong enough. But Chijioke and Uche were determined. They were used to hard work. They’d grown up in a village where every day was a struggle to make ends meet. This was just another challenge.

And then, on the fifth day, their luck changed. They landed a job in a small electronics shop in Computer Village. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid. They were tasked with unloading shipments and organizing stock — grunt work, but it was a start. Uche was quick with the paperwork, while Chijioke had a knack for talking to customers, convincing them to buy more than they planned. Slowly but surely, they began to settle into the rhythm of the city.

Days turned into weeks, and the city began to feel less like a foreign world and more like a place they could belong. They still struggled — sometimes the money didn’t stretch as far as they needed, sometimes they felt out of place among the hustle of the city. But every time they spoke to each other, they remembered why they had come here. They were building something bigger than themselves.

One evening, as they sat on their bed, eating a plate of jollof rice they had bought from a roadside vendor, Uche turned to Chijioke.

“You think we’re crazy for doing this?” Uche asked, his voice low.

Chijioke looked at him, a grin tugging at his lips. “Crazy? Maybe. But I think we’re exactly where we need to be.”

They both stared out the window, watching the lights flicker on the streets below. The city was alive, buzzing with possibility. And for the first time, they truly felt like they were part of it.

That night, Chijioke made a vow. He wasn’t going to return to the village as a failure. He wasn’t going to be just another man who tried and couldn’t make it. He would carve his own place in this city, alongside Uche, and build the life they had always dreamed of.

It wasn’t going to be easy. There were risks, and there would be struggles. But as long as they had each other, they knew it was a risk worth taking.

And so, they stayed — living in the city that never stopped, taking each day as it came, fighting for their place in a world that had once seemed out of reach. It wasn’t the life they had imagined, but it was their life. And it was just beginning.