Son compartido

Lilian ran through the dark Lagos street with tears in her eyes, her high heels in one hand and her phone clutched tightly in the other. Her heart pounded violently in her chest as she kept looking behind her, terrified someone might still be following her. “God… please help me,” she whispered breathlessly. Just hours earlier, Lilian had been laughing in a luxurious lounge, surrounded by flashing lights, loud music, and people who called her a queen.