African StoriesKenyan StoriesLove and Romance Stories

I Wish You Were Loyal

Roses. Chocolates. Jewelry. It is a good thing to be in love. A better thing to love the one that loves you. Or maybe fairy tales are real, just maybe, because before him I didn’t believe in love. Now I believe in after. And even after ever after.

I press my head against the glass window. He is going to come any time soon. He had flowers delivered at the threshold this evening, with a note that read: ‘At the Buffalo Lounge by 7.30pm. Be ready.’

The time is 7.35pm. I take the last bite of the chocolate. There goes him, in a maroon tuxedo suit. His dreadlocks tied at the back. Every girl steals a glance at him. He is my man but I too cannot help it either.

I stand to hug him. The sweet tropical cologne reaches my nostrils even before he gets near. That’s another thing I love about him.

“Hey love. Pardon—”

“Hey, you look awesome, darling. And thanks for the flowers today.”

“Don’t, darling me! Explain what this is.”

I stare in disguised shock. This sure isn’t happening on Valentine. At least not in this candlelit dinner in a VIP lounge.

I am too as surprised as he is, only maybe on a different perspective. He put the hCG pregnancy test on the table. It did test positive today, but I am shocked that he discovered.

His bloodshot eyes reminds me of that terrific night at his parents’ home two months ago. I was coming out of the lavatory outside in the night when I felt a strong grip from behind. At first I thought it was him playing games on me until I was forced to sleep on the freshly cut napier. I tried to scream, silent screams. Instead there were tears welling on my eyes, and in seconds that seemed like millenniums, my under garments had been torn. A rough hand had found its way into my intimate area, the other hand engulfing my mouth so I couldnt make any noise. And it was hysterical as he pushed himself into me. His jacket wet with dew pressed hard on my breasts.

“If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never give my son in your hand in marriage.” Those had been the words of a future father-in-law.

He still gives me bloodshot eyes. I look away with wet eyes. Should I disclose to him the truth about my pregnancy? Is it the right thing for him to know that I am a fiancée and a potential stepmother at the same time? I open my mouth to speak but I find no words.

“Well, Sasha. I developed varicosele years back. I was never going to make you pregnant anyway,” he says as he spits saliva on my face.

I stare back at him as he rises on his feet. I barely can catch a breath. He storms out of the lounge, screaming how he hates me. I can’t handle this pressure. So I follow him, ignoring the commotion and the crowd that is forming. The six inch stilettos lower my speed so I take them off.

He is running towards the busy highway and just as I open the door I hear a car screech and what follows is an accident. His body lies cold and dead in the middle of the highway.

“No! Please don’t die. I can explain everything about my pregnancy. I was going to actually tell you soon…” I can hardly breathe as I lift his neck, looking at his crushed body.

He takes his last breath and this is what he says, “I am sorry. But I wish you were loyal.”

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