All too soon, we've come to the end of our story. Oh, sorry—did I say our story? No way. I doubt you’d want to be part of this not-so-good rollercoaster of emotions. But since this is the final part or maybe not, I won't bore you with vague talk. Let’s get straight to business.
As I mentioned earlier, something dramatic happened just as I was about to leave the house. I heard a noise inside.
Wait—so someone was home all this time? But who? Her dad? Her mum? Her crazy brother? Her not-so-friendly sister? Or… her?
My only prayer was that it wouldn’t be her dad. Rumors about him weren’t pleasant. They called him heartless, mean, unapproachable. The kind of man who never smiles, always carrying an air of self-importance. If there was one good thing about him, it was that he managed to father a stunning 'angel.'
I stood there, my heart pounding, waiting to see who would emerge. When the gate creaked open, my breath caught. It was her.
She smiled, and for a moment, I turned into a statue—motionless, speechless. Her beauty was something my eyes couldn’t fully process. Her eyes were so clear and mesmerizing. Her face was flawless. Every detail of her presence screamed elegance.
She invited me in, offered me a seat, and handed me a drink. (Wow, a courteous lady too?). Then she apologized for keeping me waiting, explaining that she had felt a little dizzy and needed to rest.
Maybe she’s suffering from a lack of vitamin ‘Me’ in her system, I thought.
“Oh, sorry, dear,” I said. “Now that I’m here, you’ll be just fine.”
She chuckled. “I hear you. Thanks for your company, Mister.”
Mister? Is that all I get for taking such a risk to come here? I was expecting something like honey, darling, or at least sweetheart. But I kept my cool and forced a smile.
I had made up my mind—I would not leave this house empty-handed. I could sense she was falling for me but refusing to admit it. I had fallen for her too, but fear held me back. What if she rejected me?
But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
I knelt before her—just like they do in the movies—and let the words spill out.
“I love you.”
Then, with my most romantic voice, I added, “Honey, I want to write your name across my heart for the whole world to know you’re mine.”
Her expression changed. Did she faint? No. Did she smile? Not exactly.
Then she spoke.
“Why did it take you so long to say this?” she asked, her voice unreadable. “You’re too little, too late. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re a nice person, but… I’m already engaged. I hope you find someone just as kind and caring as me. But hey, we can still be friends.”
Whaaaaat?!
So she knew she was engaged and still entertained me all this while? Why does everyone treat my fragile heart like a chew toy?
I stood up, ready to leave. There was no point in staying any longer—her parents had just called, saying they were on their way home. And trust me, I did not want to meet her ruthless dad, crazy brother, anti-social sister, or indifferent mum.
But just as I turned to go, she burst into laughter.
I frowned. “What’s so funny?”
She leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “Relax, I was just kidding. There’s no one else. I’ve accepted your proposal.”
Before I could react, she hugged me tightly, looked into my eyes, and gave me a quick kiss.
Her first kiss, she confessed.
Well, I have to make it a memorable one, I thought.
I gently pulled her towards me and kissed her deeply. It was so sweet, so intense—we couldn’t stop. We tumbled onto the sofa, lost in the moment.
Just as I was about to… ahem… express myself (don’t ask me what that means), the door flew open.
And there he stood.
Her father.
I swear, in that moment, I wished for the earth to split open and swallow me whole. But, of course, wishes never work in real life.
He clenched his fists, his face a mask of pure rage.
Just as he was about to strike—
I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I turned, and there stood my little nephew, Kwabota, grinning from ear to ear.
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