Ifyoma sat frozen for a moment, startled by the storm.
Then, before she could even move, a warm jacket was gently placed over her shoulders.
She looked up through the rain and saw Tunday, his uniform soaked, his hair dripping onto his forehead. He was holding a cheap black umbrella over her head.
“You’ll catch a cold,” he said simply, his voice calm but firm over the noise of the rain.
Ifyoma’s throat tightened. She was not used to someone caring for her like this, without a camera flashing or a business card being handed over.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, though her voice cracked a little.
Tunday gave her a small smile and held the umbrella steady as she got up.
“Come on,” he said. “There’s a dry spot near the west entrance.”
He did not offer his hand or try to touch her. He just walked quietly beside her, keeping the umbrella over her. He took the side that exposed him to more rain and did not complain once.
By the time they reached the covered archway, Ifyoma’s heart was beating fast, and it was not because of the weather.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling his jacket tighter around her.
Tunday nodded, his kindness as steady as ever.
“Just doing my job,” he replied.
But Ifyoma knew better. No job paid enough for that kind of thoughtfulness.
She watched him walk back into the rain, jacketless, soaked to the skin, and realized something that scared her.
She did not just feel grateful.
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