Chapter 16: The Way Forward

Days slipped by like sand through Zina's fingers. Life was moving slowly but surely, and though her heart was still healing, she had begun to breathe a little easier.

That afternoon, she was at her aunt's provision shop, helping restock drinks and arranging items on the wooden shelves when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen , it was her mom.

 Zina answered casually, expecting a regular mother-daughter check-in. But her mom's voice was tinged with a kind of urgency she hadn't heard in a while.

"Zina, that young man we talked about… he came again. He's at the house now, asking after you," her mom said.

 Zina's face froze. She stepped away from the counter, clutching her phone closer, "Mummy, I'm not coming home now. I just… I need space. Please, tell him I'm not around." She didn't know what surprised her more, the fact that he came back, or that her mother sounded slightly amused, almost... hopeful.

 Before she could even digest the moment, her aunt, who had overheard parts of the conversation, walked in from the back of the shop, "That boy again?" the older woman asked, Zina nodded slightly. Her aunt didn't miss a beat she picked up her own phone and dialed Zina's mom immediately. "Tell one of the boys to bring the bike. She's coming home today. I don't want her missing this opportunity."

 Zina turned, mouth open to protest, but her aunt silenced her with a look. That familiar firm-but-loving glare that said: You will thank me later, "I don't know what all this rush is about," Zina muttered under her breath. "I barely know this guy. Everyone is already planning a fairy tale from one random visit," but when her younger brother pulled up with the motorcycle to take her home, she sighed and gave in, maybe it was better to just show up and deal with it, than argue endlessly.

 As the wind rushed against her face on the ride back, her thoughts wandered. Why did he return? What does he want? She wasn't sure if she was annoyed, flattered, or scared, when she arrived at the compound, her questions froze. There he was, sitting like a calm storm in the corner of their compound, dressed simply, but with a quiet confidence that made it impossible to ignore him. The same dreadlocked man who had stolen glances the first day they met. This time, the stares weren't stolen, they were intentional, and he wasn't alone. The other guy, the one who had helped them exchange numbers the last time was there too, chatting warmly with her younger sister. Zina assumed, once again, that he must be a friend or perhaps a brother, she managed a polite "hello" and disappeared into the house to freshen up. Her heart was fluttering in ways she hadn't felt in a long time not the desperate kind of nervousness Richard used to bring, but something softer. Steadier.

 When she returned, the three of them stepped out for a casual hangout, something light, just to ease the awkwardness. They ended up at a nearby bar joint, one of those semi-open places with plastic chairs, suya aroma in the air, and highlife music floating around in soft echoes.

 To her surprise, the man, this mysterious dreadlocked visitor barely said a word. It was the same friend again who carried the conversation, throwing in jokes and small talk, trying to make Zina feel at ease.

But his friend? He was watching her.

 Not in a creepy, overbearing way but the kind of gaze that held questions. Wonder. Maybe even respect. Zina could feel his eyes on her, tracing the way she sipped her malt, or the quiet smile that played at the corners of her lips when the music changed to a favourite song, For a while, they just sat like that, under dim bar lights, music in the background, and a thousand unspoken words hanging in the space between them. And Zina? She felt… safe. Just quietly safe.

 As they said their goodbyes that night, he didn't force a conversation. No declarations. No unnecessary drama. Just a quiet nod and a soft "Goodnight."

But it wasn't the last.

Days later, they went out again, this time with his friend and the friend's wife. A double date of sorts. Zina wasn't sure what to expect. The atmosphere was warmer this time. Familiar, when they got to the bar joint, just like before, the couple excused themselves.

"They want to leave us alone," he said, breaking the silence with a soft laugh.

Zina blinked. So, this is it. The moment he'll talk.

She didn't rush him. She waited.

He took a sip from his drink and finally looked her in the eye not as a stranger, but as someone with something to say.

"I didn't know what to expect that day at your house," he began. "But something about you stuck with me."

She didn't say a word. She just listened.

"I'm not here to promise you a perfect story… but I'm here because I think I want to write one with you. If you'll let me."

Zina's chest tightened not from fear this time, but from the unfamiliar sound of something real. She wasn't sure if this was the beginning of love. Or just friendship.

But one thing was clear this man was intentional, Respectful, Different.

And maybe, just maybe… this was the way forward.