Red Flag District S2.

FOLARIN’S P.O.V:

There are certain moments in a man’s life that make him question every decision that brought him there.

Standing beside Tunde at the altar while Seyi whispered, “Breathe,” was one of them.

Not because anything was wrong but because everything was right. Which, I was learning, could be just as destabilising.

Tunde looked composed. Of course he did. If somebody had taken a picture of him from the neck down, they would have seen perfectly aligned shoulders, hands settled in front of him, polished shoes, black tuxedo sitting exactly where it was supposed to.

His face told a different story. He had looked toward the entrance at least fourteen times.

I counted.

Not deliberately. There was not much else to do while waiting for your friend’s wife to arrive.

Seyi leaned toward him again.

“If she changes her mind, I know a route through the back—”

“Finish that sentence,” Tunde said quietly, “and you will not attend the reception.”

Seyi smiled.

I looked at Kunle.

Kunle shook his head.

There are friendships where people affirm you gently. Ours mostly involved threats.

Then the music changed.

Everybody stood.

The doors opened.

And Lamide appeared.

I looked at Tunde before I looked at her. That was the better view. The man was gone. Finished. Whatever portion of Tunde Kabir had been maintaining masculine dignity disappeared immediately.

His whole face changed.

I smiled.

Seyi caught my eye.

We both grinned.

Kunle reached over and squeezed Tunde’s shoulder.

I leaned slightly closer.

“My guy.”

Tunde did not even hear me.

Good.

There was something satisfying about watching your most controlled friends lose all ability to hide himself.

Lamide walked toward him.

Beautiful.

And I understood something then.

You could tell when a wedding was about spectacle. You could also tell when it was about two people who genuinely wanted to get to the end of the aisle and begin the thing they had promised each other privately.

This was the second kind.

I liked it. More than I expected.

The vows did not help.

Tunde had apparently decided to use his wedding day to become a poet.

“You made room for joy in parts of me I had already decided would remain quiet.”

I looked at him.

Excuse me?

Who wrote that?

Because the Tunde I knew communicated affection through things like checking whether your tyres were due for replacement.

His voice cracked.

Seyi’s eyes widened.

I immediately looked away because if I caught Seyi’s face, one of us would laugh and Tunde would murder us before signing his certificate.

Then Lamide gave her vows.

That was worse. Not worse. Better. Emotionally inconvenient.

“You never asked me to stop carrying what mattered to me. You only kept reminding me that I did not have to carry everything alone.”

The room went quiet.

I looked at the floor.

Not because I was emotional. There was something on my shoe. Probably. Maybe. Nobody needed to investigate.

Then the minister said: “You may kiss your bride.”

Seyi lost his mind.

“FINALLY!”

I laughed.

Tunde looked like he wanted to kill him.

Then he turned to Lamide.

And paused.

That caught me.

The pause.

Not hesitation.

Reverence.

Almost.

He touched her face carefully.

Then kissed her.

The room exploded.

I clapped.

Seyi shouted again.

Kunle was laughing.

And for a few seconds, I was simply happy for my friend. Then my mind did something inconvenient.

I thought about Derin. Not even deliberately. Just—Her hand under mine at dinner. I have feelings for you too. The hug outside the restaurant. The way she had looked at me after I kissed her forehead.

I stopped.

Absolutely not. This was Tunde’s wedding. I was not going to turn somebody else’s covenant into personal romantic projection.

Growth.

I clapped harder.

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