They say anniversaries are for lovers to remember.
But what would I be remembering?
A betrayal?
A shame so deep it still burns my throat when I try to speak?
Maybe they're right beasts don't kill unless provoked.
But me?
I was never provoked.
I was just naïve.
Foolish.
Dreaming with my eyes open while the world laughed behind my back.
I called my father, needing to hear his voice, to feel a thread of sanity.
He answered.
"I won't be coming back for at least two years," he said. "The investors in China want me to stay and build something new. I need to be here."
My mind stopped.
Two years?
Two years?
The weight hit my chest like a boulder. For my gold mine to begin operations, my father had to be on site to sign off the mining rights. Without his presence, I couldn't touch a single rock. I could export gold yes. But I had no mines. No product. No power.
Just empty paper and a broken name.
Aamon was still working as a supervisor at the Emerald Mine one of my father's smaller ventures but that money? It couldn't feed a dog, let alone fix the mess I'd made.
And I?
I had just spent the entire month's allocation on luxury.
On the ring.
On the Lamborghini.
On the venue.
On clothes.
On booking private chefs.
All of it meant to surprise Rose.
Now all of it mocked me.
I laughed. Actually laughed a hollow, broken sound in an empty room.
"How pathetic," I whispered to myself.
I had no money left.
Not even enough for breakfast.
So I did what I thought was smartest I put the cars on sale.
The Lamborghini.
The Rolls.
Even the custom Mercedes.
I listed the diamond-encrusted watch.
But then the silence came.
Nothing. No offers. No calls. Not even a "how much?"
Because I forgot one thing.
This is Zambia.
No one here just casually buys a car that costs half a million dollars. No one is lining up to spend a million dollars on a wristwatch. We're not in Dubai. We're not in the Middle East.
I stood in the driveway, staring at the Lamborghini like it was a dead body.
That's when I said it:
"I'll break it for parts."
Quick cash. Car chop shops always needed parts, right?
But Aamon stepped in.
"Raiven, stop."
I turned. Frank was behind him, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"Guys," I said. "Let me do this. It's the only way. I can get quick money if I break it and sell the pieces separately"
Then Frank asked one question.
Just one.
"Who will buy?"
And that's when it really hit me.
Even Baba Spax, the Copperbelt kingpin, doesn't drive a Lamborghini.
Who the hell did I think I was?
What world was I living in?
What dream had I built so high that I forgot where I was who I was what Zambia really is?
And now, here I stood
With no girl.
No cash.
No mine.
No future.
Just three cars no one could afford and two friends who had watched me fall from a dream into a nightmare.