They met through a mutual friend on an ordinary evening that would later reveal itself to be anything but. Sade remembered the moment clearly—not because it was dramatic, but because it felt oddly suspended in time. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
Long, well-groomed locks fell onto his lap in a crumpled tangle as he sat, relaxed and unassuming. When he stood to shake her hand, those same locks cascaded down his back, nearly meeting the length of his six-foot frame. His light green eyes complemented his copper skin in a way that felt almost unfair, and when he smiled, it was as if the room leaned in to take notice.
“Jason,” he said warmly.
Sade was mesmerized—but only for a moment. Years of practiced composure kicked in. She gathered her thoughts, extended her hand, and introduced herself. If he was striking, she was unforgettable. Waist-length locks framed her sapodilla-brown skin, and her features carried a kind of quiet mystery—confusing yet captivating, the sort that lingered long after first impressions faded. Heads turned when she entered a room, not from effort, but from essence.
Conversation flowed easily that night, light and harmless, the kind exchanged in safe company. Their mutual friend beamed, proud of having brought two such energies into the same space. Nothing improper lingered in the air—at least, nothing anyone could name.
Life went on.
A couple of months passed before Jason reached out. The message was innocent enough: coffee, catching up, just the two of them. No mention was made of excluding the friend, but somehow, that was understood. Sade hesitated before agreeing, a quiet voice inside her whispering caution. Still, curiosity won.
Coffee turned into conversation, and conversation turned into laughter that felt too easy, too familiar. They spoke about music, purpose, childhood memories, and the small disappointments that adulthood delivers without apology. Somewhere between sips and smiles, a friendship began to bloom—softly, carefully, like something that knew it shouldn’t grow too fast.
They met again. And again.
Then Jason invited her to a concert.
The night was electric—music pulsing through the crowd, basslines echoing like shared heartbeats. Sade felt alive in a way she hadn’t in a long time, caught between nostalgia and novelty. Jason watched her sway to the rhythm, her laughter blending with the sound of the night.
On the drive home, they sat in comfortable silence until the traffic light turned red. The city hummed around them, impatient horns in the distance. Without warning, Jason leaned over and kissed her.
It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t clumsy. It was passionate, urgent, as if words had failed and only feeling remained.
Sade didn’t pull away.
In that brief, stolen moment, she felt seen. Desired. Alive. When the light turned green, they sat frozen for a heartbeat longer before reality rushed back in. She liked it. She liked him. And that truth scared her more than the kiss itself.
Because the conundrum—the undeniable, unavoidable truth—hung between them like a storm cloud.
They were both married.
No promises were made that night. No confessions spilled. Yet something had shifted, and neither could pretend otherwise. Lines once clear now blurred, and silence became heavier than any argument.
As Sade lay awake later, staring at the ceiling, questions crowded her mind. Was this a momentary lapse or the beginning of something dangerous? Was connection a choice—or a force beyond control?
And Jason, driving home alone, wondered the same.
What do you think happens next?
to be continued.
By La Moja