Chapter 2 – Raindrops & Unspoken Words
The sky was dim, painted in hues of gray as Roshel and Alden strolled side by side after a long shift. They had made these walks part of their ritual sometimes joking, sometimes quiet, always together.
This evening, the clouds couldn't hold back anymore. A drizzle began to fall, soft at first, then steady.
Roshel looked up, her hand flying to her hair. "Hey, Alden, it's raining and I don't have anything to cover my hair. It'll get wet. How about we buy something quickly?"
He glanced around the empty street and shook his head. "It's kinda late."
Then, without hesitation, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over her head. His shoulders and back grew damp under the rain, but he didn't flinch.
Roshel's heart twisted painfully. That simple act, the quiet sacrifice of comfort meant more than a thousand grand gestures. She bit her lip, fighting the smile threatening to escape. Why does he make everything harder for me?
Later, while waiting for food at a small café, Roshel's eyelids grew heavy. The patter of rain outside created a lullaby too tempting. She tilted her head and found herself resting against his shoulder.
Alden stilled for a moment, then relaxed, letting her lean on him. "Comfortable?" he asked in a low murmur.
Roshel pretended not to hear. If she admitted how much she liked it, she'd never forgive herself.
But inside, her heart screamed: I'm falling. And I don't know how to stop.
Days passed, each filled with gestures that chipped away at her carefully built walls.
When she went silent, trying to keep her distance, Alden noticed.
"You okay?" he'd ask, voice gentle but probing.
"I'm just tired," she'd reply quickly.
"You sure you're okay?" He would lean closer, his eyes holding hers, unwilling to let the moment slip.
And just like that, all her defenses crumbled. She couldn't lie when he looked at her like that.
Roshel had always believed love confessions should come from men. She wasn't brave enough to break tradition or maybe, she was simply too shy. So she kept her feelings locked, afraid of exposing herself first.
But the truth kept spilling out in small ways.
One day, during a casual chat about love, Roshel took out her phone. "Wanna see a picture of the person I love?" she teased, her cheeks burning.
"Sure," Alden said easily, curious.
She flipped the screen toward him. It was his photo.
For a split second, silence. Then Alden burst into laughter, shaking his head. "You're joking."
Her throat tightened. She smiled faintly, pretending to laugh with him, though the truth burned inside her.
Soon after, she had to travel back to school for a week. The night before leaving, they lingered in their usual spot, neither willing to say goodbye.
"I'm scared you'll disappear from my life while I'm gone," she admitted in a whisper.
Alden kissed her forehead softly, his hands cupping her face. "I'm not going anywhere."
The promise should have been enough, but as the bus carried her away the next morning, Roshel's doubts grew louder.
Being away from Alden felt like a piece of her was missing. Every message from him made her heart flutter; every silence made her restless. She tried to convince herself not to assume too much. Don't dream, Roshel. Don't expect what may never come.
But her heart betrayed her.
One evening, unable to hold back, she texted him:
"Hey Alden, you really treat me well. You're so nice to me, and my heart isn't made of stone. I'm afraid I might really fall for you and suffer unrequited love."
His reply came swiftly:
"Does this look like an unrequited love to you? Usijali, tutakua poa." (translation ...Usijali, tutakua poa -Don't worry, we'll be fine)
Her chest tightened. She reread the message a dozen times, her lips curving into a smile.
Then, one random day, her phone buzzed again.
"Nakupenda sana, Kamama."( translation ...Nakupenda sana, kamama-I love you very much ,sweetheart/ darling..... endearment in Swahili)
She froze, staring at the screen, her heart thundering in her ears.
There it was, the words she had longed for, feared she would never hear.
Her fingers trembled as she typed back:
"Damn lucky us, nakupenda pia." ( translation...nakupenda pia- I love you too)
Roshel pressed send, then buried her face into her pillow, grinning like a fool.
When she returned after a week, she rushed to see him before anything else. The hug they shared was tighter, their laughter warmer, their kisses deeper.
Love wasn't just unspoken anymore, it was alive between them.
And for the first time, Roshel allowed herself to believe: Maybe this isn't just a dream. Maybe this is ours.