Sade tried to silence her heart and feed her pride instead. She deleted old messages, avoided the café where they first lingered too long in conversation, and told herself that grown women do not wait on maybes.
But loneliness has a way of whispering louder at night.
For months after the kiss, Jason’s words had been steady — promises wrapped in charm. “Soon.” “I’ll make it up to you.” “You deserve better.” Yet when the day came, something always stole him away. Traffic. Work. Family matters. Emergencies that appeared too conveniently.
Each excuse chipped at her confidence.
What Jason didn’t know was that Sade had already survived abandonment once before. Two years earlier, her husband left on a business trip and never came back. No calls. No financial support. No explanation. Just silence.
And then the truth arrived — not gently, not privately — but in the form of whispered news that he had built another life. Another home. Another family. And he chose them.
She remembered the exact moment she stopped crying about it. It wasn’t strength that replaced her tears — it was numbness.
Sade wasn’t chasing a thrill. She wasn’t hunting attention. She was starving for affection. For consistency. For someone to see her and stay.
So when Jason kissed her that evening under the amber streetlight, she mistook warmth for security. She believed maybe, just maybe, God had finally sent comfort wrapped in a familiar face.
But now? Now she felt foolish.
Like a woman who imagined a future from a moment.
The day the text came, she stared at it longer than she should have.
Coffee? I mean it this time.
Her first instinct was to ignore it. Protect what little dignity she felt she still had. But curiosity is a powerful thing. So is hope — even when you try to bury it.
Against her better judgment, she replied.
Okay.
By La Moja