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Under the shade of an old mkone tree, Baya waited. The coastal breeze whispered through the leaves as the waves in the distance crashed gently on the banks of Nzovuni River. He glanced around, fidgeting with his worn-out wristwatch, his heart heavy with the weight of what was to come. This was their spot, a secluded place they had met for months, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world, where no one would suspect the bond that had grown between them.
And then, there she was Karembo, walking towards him with her graceful stride, her colourful leso draped loosely over her shoulders. She had a softness in her eyes, the same eyes that had captivated him from the moment they met. But today, there was something different, a glint of sadness he hadn’t seen before.
“Baya, I’m here,” she said, her voice laced with uncertainty.
Baya took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand still as she approached. The past few months had been an intoxicating whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered confessions, but now those moments felt like distant memories, slipping away before his eyes. Today was the day he had dreaded, yet he knew it had to be done.
“Karembo, thank you for coming,” he began softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I called you here today… because there’s something I need to tell you.”
Her brow furrowed, and she took a step closer. “What’s wrong, Baya? You’re scaring me.”
He reached for her hand, holding it in his own, the warmth between them a stark contrast to the chill settling in his heart. “I won’t be able to see you anymore. It’s…..” he paused, struggling with the words. “It’s because of the obligations we both have… and the ties we can’t break.”
Karembo’s hand trembled in his, and she bit her lip, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “But why now? We’ve been meeting here for so long. Why does it have to end?”
Baya closed his eyes, the pain of the moment sinking deeper into his chest. “I know, I know… but it’s wrong, Karembo. What we’ve done, what we’ve shared, no matter how beautiful, it’s wrong.” He felt the tears threatening to break through but fought them back. “You have your life, your family, and I have mine.”
Karembo took a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield her from the hurt. “But I don’t care, Baya. I don’t care what people think. I only care about us.”
He shook his head, fighting to stay composed. “I care, Karembo. I have ties I can’t break, and so do you. And as much as it hurts… this is the right thing to do.”
She broke then, a sob escaping her lips as she turned away from him, her shoulders shaking. Baya stepped forward and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling her shudder beneath his touch.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t want to leave like this. I want to remember you… just like this. Our last moment together, before everything falls apart.”
Karembo turned to face him again, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s not fair, Baya,” she whispered. “It’s not fair that something so beautiful has to end.”
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He nodded slowly, his own heartbreaking in a way he never thought possible. “I know. But it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you. I won’t lie about that.”
They stood there, silent, both unwilling to move, as if the world around them had frozen in time. Baya wished he could turn back the clock, wished he could make it all work, but deep down, he knew it was futile. They were from different worlds, different lives, tied by obligations neither could escape.
Baya took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed as the weight of his decision pressed down on him. The months they had spent together were filled with stolen moments of passion and whispered promises, but in the back of his mind, he always knew it couldn’t last. He had obligations, responsibilities that tied him to another life, one that didn’t include Karembo. And she, too, had ties of her own, a family and a life she couldn’t simply walk away from. As much as they both tried to ignore it, reality had finally caught up with them.
“This isn’t just about us,” Baya whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “We have responsibilities, Karembo. You have your family… and I have mine. What we’ve been doing… it’s wrong.” He could see the pain in her eyes, but he had to make her understand. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, he did, more than anything. But love wasn’t always enough to overcome the obligations they had been born into. Continuing their secret meetings would only lead to more heartache, for them and for the people they were tied to.
Karembo stepped back, her lips trembling as the tears began to flow again. She knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. The reality of their situation hung between them like a heavy cloud, suffocating the joy they once shared. “So… this is it?” she whispered. Baya nodded, his heart breaking at the sight of her pain, knowing he was the one causing it. “Yes, this is it. As much as it hurts, this is the right thing to do.”
“Maybe you’ll meet someone else,” Baya said after a long pause. “Someone who can give you everything I couldn’t.”
Karembo shook her head vehemently. “No one could replace you, Baya. No one.”
He smiled sadly, knowing the truth in her words, but also knowing that life had a way of moving on, even when the heart protested. “Maybe not now… but one day, Karembo, you will.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and Baya gently offered her his handkerchief. She took it and dabbed at her eyes, her gaze softening as she looked at him.
“Let’s not drag this out any longer,” Baya said, his voice breaking slightly. “Let’s just kiss… and say goodbye.”
With trembling hands, Karembo stepped forward, her body pressed against his, and their lips met in a tender, bittersweet kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the unspoken words, all the emotions they couldn’t put into sentences. It was a kiss of love, of longing, and of goodbye.
When they finally pulled apart, Mwanaisha’s tears had dried, replaced by a quiet resignation. She took a step back, her eyes locking with his one last time.
“Goodbye, Baya,” she whispered.
“Goodbye, Karembo,” he replied, his voice barely audible.
And with that, she turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the distance. Baya stood there, watching her until she was nothing more than a memory etched into the horizon. He didn’t call after her, didn’t run to her. He let her go, as much as it tore him apart inside.
As the sun began to set over the horizon, Baya remained under the mkone tree, alone with his thoughts. He knew he had done the right thing, but the right thing had never felt so painful.
And so, with a heavy heart, Baya whispered to the wind, “Let’s just kiss and say goodbye.”
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