The discovery of the cut fence unsettled everyone on the farm.
For several days, Mr. Sikalima personally inspected the boundary fences alongside Mubita every morning. They repaired the damaged section with thicker wire and replaced several old wooden posts. Hamusonde cleared bushes growing too close to the fence line so that anyone approaching would be visible from a distance.
Fortunately, nothing else happened.
No cattle disappeared.
No strange footprints appeared.
No unfamiliar faces came asking questions.
Little by little, the tension began to fade.
But while the farm seemed to recover its peace, another problem was quietly growing inside Mubita and Chipo's home.
---
The extra security measures meant even more work.
Every evening after returning from the grazing fields, Mubita still had to inspect the fences.
Sometimes he accompanied Mr. Sikalima around the property before finally returning home.
Although he tried his best to keep the promise he had made to Chipo, there were many evenings when the work simply could not wait.
One Friday evening he arrived home after sunset.
Chipo had already served supper.
The food had grown cold.
"I'm sorry," Mubita said as he entered.
"There was another fence inspection."
"I know."
She reheated the food without another word.
They ate quietly.
The silence felt heavier than before.
---
Later that night, Chipo sat outside beneath the mango tree.
The moonlight filtered through the branches, casting dancing shadows across the yard.
Mrs. Bwalya noticed her sitting alone and walked over carrying two cups of warm milk.
"May I?"
Chipo smiled weakly.
"Always."
The older woman sat beside her.
For several minutes, neither woman spoke.
Finally, Mrs. Bwalya asked,
"How are things between you and Mubita?"
Chipo hesitated.
"They're... better."
"But?"
She sighed deeply.
"I know he's trying."
"I truly do."
"But every time life becomes difficult..."
"He gives himself completely to work."
Mrs. Bwalya nodded slowly.
"Some men believe providing is the only way to show love."
"My own father was like that."
"Did your mother ever feel lonely?"
Mrs. Bwalya smiled sadly.
"Many times."
"What changed?"
"He eventually learned that presence is worth more than presents."
---
The next morning, Mr. Sikalima called Mubita to the cattle kraal before sunrise.
"I've noticed something."
Mubita looked concerned.
"Have I done something wrong?"
"No."
"You've been doing too much."
The younger man smiled.
"I thought you'd appreciate that."
"I appreciate hard work."
The farmer looked him in the eye.
"I do not appreciate seeing a man slowly exhaust himself."
"I'm fine."
Mr. Sikalima shook his head.
"No."
"You've lost weight."
"You hardly smile anymore."
"And yesterday..."
"You nearly forgot to eat lunch."
Mubita lowered his head.
"I've just been trying to protect the farm."
"I know."
"But remember something."
Mr. Sikalima leaned against the fence.
> "The strongest ox still rests beneath the tree."
Mubita remained silent.
"You cannot carry every burden alone."
---
That afternoon, Chipo was helping customers at the veterinary shop when a young woman entered carrying a sick chicken.
She introduced herself as Nalubamba, a farmer from a nearby village.
As Chipo helped her, the two women began talking.
"You must be the new family living on Mr. Sikalima's farm."
"Yes."
"People speak well of you."
Chipo smiled politely.
"That's kind of them."
Nalubamba laughed.
"They especially speak well of your husband."
"My husband?"
"They say he's one of the hardest-working shepherds in the district."
Chipo smiled with pride.
"He works very hard."
Nalubamba looked at her thoughtfully.
"Hard-working men are a blessing."
She paused.
"But don't let him forget he's also a husband."
Those unexpected words lingered in Chipo's mind long after the customer had left.
---
That evening, Mubita surprised everyone.
Instead of checking the fences after supper, he walked into the house carrying a small woven basket.
Chipo looked up from washing dishes.
"What's that?"
He smiled.
"Open it."
Inside were fresh guavas, ripe mangoes, and a handful of wild berries he had gathered during the day's grazing.
"You remembered these are my favourite."
"I did."
She smiled warmly.
"I thought you had forgotten."
"I almost did."
He looked ashamed.
"I'm trying not to forget anymore."
Luyando immediately reached into the basket.
"Can I have one?"
Everyone laughed.
"You may have two," Mubita replied.
The little boy hugged his father tightly.
"I like it when you're home early."
Those innocent words touched both parents.
---
Later that night, after Luyando had fallen asleep, Mubita and Chipo sat together on the veranda.
The stars glittered brilliantly above the African plains.
"I've been thinking," Mubita began.
"About what?"
"When all this settles down..."
"I want us to visit your parents."
Chipo looked surprised.
"It's been a long time."
"Too long."
"They'll be happy."
"So will I."
She rested her head gently against his shoulder.
For the first time in many weeks, neither of them spoke.
They simply enjoyed being together.
From the farmhouse veranda, Mr. and Mrs. Sikalima watched quietly.
Mrs. Bwalya smiled.
"They're learning."
Mr. Sikalima nodded.
"Marriage isn't built in one grand moment."
"It's built in thousands of small choices."
As the cool night breeze swept across the farm, peace once again settled over the homestead.
But in the distance, beyond the repaired northern fence, unseen eyes still occasionally watched the farm.
Whoever had cut the wire had not returned.
Yet they had not been forgotten.
And before long, the quiet life on the Sikalima farm would face a challenge far greater than a damaged fence—a challenge that would test trust, loyalty, and the strength of every relationship on the farm.