To love and to be loved do not always arrive together. Sometimes, they pass like strangers in the night—close enough to feel warmth, but never close enough to stay.
What is love?
Is it the shiver of excitement?
The quiet urge to protect someone?
Or the courage to choose—openly and honestly?
Love wears many faces, yet so many hearts wrestle with whether what they feel is real… or if it will ever be returned.
As Shakespeare once said, "The course of true love never did run smooth."
Over the Phone
Davison: Aren't you coming to my place anymore?
Shantel: I don't think that's what I should be doing anymore. I want more than being your cuddle buddy, Davison—and you know it.
Davison: Shantel, I've told you. There's something about you that makes me want only you.
Shantel: Then at least make me your girlfriend. Make it known.
Davison: I'll do it. Just give me time to fix my mess.
Shantel: You only want me in your bed—and that's it. I honestly can't do this anymore.
Davison: Let's talk in person. I'll pick you up for dinner tonight. Seven p.m. sharp. Okay?
Shantel: Fine.
But it wasn't fine.
Not really.
Davison Mususa—tall, undeniably handsome, and fully aware of the effect he had on women—was charming, smooth with words, and effortless with attention… yet completely clueless when it came to commitment.
In the Office
He tapped his pen against the desk, lost in thought. A knock pulled him back.
"Good morning, handsome," Patience said, stepping in.
"Ndeipi," he replied with a smirk.
"You have a couple of meetings today. I've arranged all the notes and briefings," she reminded him.
Davison smiled, realizing he had completely forgotten.
"What would I do without you?"
She smiled warmly, then hesitated. "Actually, I wanted to remind you about my maternity leave."
He blinked. "Ah, right. You should've been resting already."
"I know, but I wanted to make sure everything was settled first."
"Next Monday, you're officially off duty. Enjoy it."
"I'll miss you too, boss," she said softly. "I've already found someone who can start Monday—if you're okay with that."
"I just hope she's a good fit," he said.
"She's just like me," she added.
Davison leaned back slightly. A girl. He hoped she wouldn't be a distraction.
"You're the best," he said.
"Oww, please," she laughed. "But this child… don't go making another mistake, okay?"
"Hey, Patience!" he teased, walking her out.
Meanwhile, in Gweru
Lena finished her makeup and noticed her mother watching her through the mirror.
Her daughter looked happy, excited even—both comforting and worrying.
"Mama," Lena said, hugging her. "I'll miss you so much."
"I know," her mother replied softly. "You'll call me every day, right?"
Lena chuckled. "Mom, not every day—but I'll try."
"Good. Finish up before Terry arrives."
The car horn blared.
"He's here!" Lena grabbed her suitcase. Terry leaned against the car, hands in his pockets, smiling.
"You're late," she teased, folding her arms.
"Haa, I arrived. Anyway, you look beautiful."
"Are you going to help me with my bags, or should I manage?" she laughed.
He stepped forward to greet her mother. "Mama."
"Hey there, my child," her mother said warmly.
"I'm fine, Mama. Are you going to be okay without a girl around?"
"What can I do? There's work to be done," she replied. Lena watched them, heart warmed.
"Don't worry—I'll take good care of her," Terry assured her mother, and she knew she could trust him.
"That settles my heart," she said softly.
After a last hug, Lena's mother stepped back. "Remember who you are. Don't let the city change you."
"I won't," Lena promised.
The city awaited.
Later That Night
Nokuthula admired her reflection, applying the final touch of blush.
Kelly whistled. "Girl, you look stunning. Tonight, you're going to break hearts."
The taxi arrived. Neon lights swallowed them, music thumping through the streets.
"Shots?" Kelly shouted.
"To tonight," Nokuthula said, laughing.
Kelly tried to let go too, until her phone reminded her of what—or who—was missing.
"He's not calling tonight," Nokuthula said gently. "Let's just enjoy ourselves."
VIP Section
Davison scanned the dance floor.
"I'm scoring one of the hottest tonight, boys," he said.
Liam smirked. "If you mean the one in black—she's hot."
Davison shook his head. "Navy."
He moved through the crowd with effortless confidence.
"Mind if I join?" he asked.
"Depends on your moves," Nokuthula replied.
"Come upstairs," he said.
"Upstairs where?"
"VIP."
"I'm not alone."
"Then bring your friend."
Private Conversation
"So," Nokuthula said, arms crossed, "why did you bring me up here?"
"To get to know you," he replied.
She laughed. "You don't look like the get-to-know-you type."
"And what type do I look like?"
"The type that collects stories," he said, "not names."
"You're interesting," he added.
"That line works on girls who don't ask questions," she said.
"I like questions."
"Good," she said, stepping closer. "Then tell me what you actually want."
For the first time that night, Davison paused.
"I wanted to see if you'd come," he admitted. "Now I want to know why you did."
Nokuthula smiled, slow and unreadable. "Careful," she warned. "You might not like the answer."
Across the room, Kelly clinked glasses with Liam.
"Your friend looks like trouble," she said.
"So does yours," he replied, handing her his phone. "Maybe we link sometime."
Kelly hesitated, then typed her number.
"Tell me what you want," Nokuthula repeated, calm, steady, her eyes locked on his.
"I want you in my bed," he said simply.
Nokuthula smiled. There it was—the truth, stripped of smooth talk and neon lights.
"So honest," she said softly. "I can respect that."
He tilted his head. "How about it?"
She studied him, weighing her choice. She didn't need to see him again—and maybe that was exactly why this felt… easy.
"Alright," she said. "One night."
They left the club together, city lights blurring past the taxi window. Words were few, tension thick.
At the hotel, Davison opened the door, but neither rushed inside.
Instead, they paused in the lobby, the world outside fading.
"Do you always do this?" he asked, half-teasing, half-serious.
"Do what?"
"Keep people guessing."
She raised an eyebrow. "Depends on the company."
When the elevator doors closed, it felt like a private universe.
Nokuthula's hand barely touched his—just enough to remind him she was here by choice. Nothing was simple.
When the hotel room door finally opened, they didn't rush.
They let the quiet settle, letting anticipation stretch itself out slow and patient, like a promise neither could yet define.
No words were needed—just the pull of two forces unwilling to yield, and the knowledge that tonight… tonight was theirs, on their own terms