Love, Life, Line

Answered prayers

In a crowded room, he had the uncanny ability to make it seem as if it was just the two of us. His gaze remained steadfast, never wavering to the right or left, except when he beckoned the waiter to add to the already overflowing table. In his eyes, I was enough—more than enough, and each day, his actions spoke louder than his words. "How did I get so fortunate?" I often pondered. Having a history of being character-developed in streets of Nairobi, I never could have foreseen that fate would finally gift me a man who not only loved me, but held me in reverence and adoration. I must confess that there were moments when I adorned myself with the armor of mistrust, convinced that this new chapter would follow the familiar script of love turned to heartbreak. I was wary of loving too deeply, fearful of being shattered once more. Despite my yearning for love, I was ready to withdraw and retreat, prepared to abandon the extraordinary man in my life to safeguard my heart from pain.

Days melted into weeks, weeks into months, and this man had yet to validate my doubts. "What was he really after?" Handsome, prosperous, and well-connected, he had the means to win the heart of a woman from any corner of the world. He could have chosen a Brazilian beauty or a perfectly sculpted Barbie doll, but instead, he chose me—an entrepreneur standing at 5'2", wrestling with acne and uneven skin tone. And let's not forget the financial struggles that were as tangible as my very existence. I couldn't shake the feeling that my adversaries were orchestrating something sinister, and I had to be strategic. My plan? To withhold pieces of myself from this man who had not only swept me off my feet with his charm but with every facet of his being. His allure was augmented by his ascent, an ascent that seemed tailor-made to disrupt my life. Once upon a time, I believed I'd end up with an African-American partner, yet here I was, not complaining, as I had found my very own black American, hailing from the Luo tribe. For the past six months, he had been perfect—perfection that finally enabled me to relinquish my dreams of being with a black American or even Nick Mutuma. Don't judge me; a girl is entitled to her fantasies.

Fast forward one year, and I went from questioning why my supposed partner wasn't calling or texting me to being in a relationship where the calls and texts were almost incessant. This man had the tendency to carve out time from his jam-packed schedule just to connect with me, even if there was no specific purpose to the conversation. Now, don't get me wrong—I cherished the attention, but as the saying goes, too much of a good thing can be harmful. What if we ran out of things to talk about? What if we lost that initial spark? Personally, I had managed to navigate life this far by meticulously planning every aspect, conversations included. Ironically, despite our frequent exchanges, there was always a new topic to discuss, a new joke to share. Despite his demanding job that often took him places, he never made me feel like I was competing against his career. The moment he returned from his travels, I became his constant companion, and I secretly reveled in it.