Adjusting to college life came more easily than she had expected. The lecturers were kind, the staff approachable, and her classmates—most of them much younger than her—were vibrant, and she smoothly blended into their world . Before long, Becky found comfort in the steady structure of her days. Mornings were filled with early lectures and study groups, and evenings always led her back to the quiet safety of her small rented room in town.
She remained deeply grateful for Sarah. Without her, none of this would have been possible. For a long time, Becky had carried the ache of having no one she could truly drape the name friend upon. Now, it fit Sarah fit perfectly. Becky kept her updated on her progress at college, and each time, Sarah shared in her joy, proud and genuinely happy for her.
Toward the end of the semester, one Friday evening, Becky was walking back to her apartment after a long day of revision and preparation for the end-of-semester exams when a matatu sped past her and screeched to a halt a short distance ahead.
A tall man in a brown leather jacket stepped out. At first, she barely noticed him—just another commuter alighting at the roadside. But as she drew closer, something about him tugged insistently at her memory. His stature. His stillness. And then his eyes.
She turned slightly and caught him staring at her.
She dismissed the moment and kept walking.
Then her phone buzzed.
Koech.
Her heart skipped.
"Hello," she answered.
"Hey, Becky! How are you?"
"I'm good… how about you?"
"I'm fine. But surprised."
"Surprised?"
"How could you ignore me like that?"
"I don't understand."
"Wasn't that you who just walked past?"
She stopped, stunned, and slowly turned. The man was still there—and now she saw him clearly. Recognition struck like a jolt. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Oh my! Honestly, I didn't recognize you!" she exclaimed, ending the call as she turned back toward him with sudden urgency.
His gaze followed her as she crossed the road toward him. A warm, tender smile spread across her face, revealing her lovely teeth. She looked radiant in her green dress, which hugged her figure just enough to accentuate her grace. She opened her arms without hesitation.
Koech bent slightly—she was shorter than him—and drew her into a close embrace. His hands settled at her waist, pulling her gently toward him. The hug was warm. Familiar. Unexpected. They stood there for a moment, absorbing the shock and quiet sweetness of the reunion.
"What are you doing here?" he asked softly.
"Perhaps I should be asking you the same thing," she replied with a playful smile. "I'm a student now."
Koech blinked. "Wait… seriously?"
"Yes. I decided it was time to rebuild. No more housewife duties to chain me down."
He smiled, clearly impressed. "Smart move."
"Thank you. What about you? What brings you to Kericho?"
"This is my hometown."
"Oh! I thought you were from Bomet."
"No. I just work there."."
She smiled too, though her next question carried a fragile edge.
"How's my son?"
Koech hesitated, only slightly. "He's doing great. School closed today. His… stepmother picked him up."
The warmth drained from Becky's face.
"It's painful that she has such easy access to him," Becky said quietly. "I was driven away from that school like I didn't matter. She took my husband—and now she's building a place in my son's life."
"I'm sorry if I—"
"No, no," she interrupted gently. "You've done nothing wrong." She drew a slow breath, steadying herself. "I just can't stand the thought of her claiming that role. How did he perform?"
"He's a disciplined, brilliant boy, Becky," Koech said. "Always at the top of his class—and well-behaved too."
"Was he top today?"
"Yes. He performed exceptionally well. Four hundred and twenty marks out of five hundred."
A soft, bittersweet smile touched her lips. "I just hope he keeps working hard."
"I'm confident he will," Koech said. "He won't disappoint."
Koech was still unmarried, patiently waiting—or so he told himself—for the right woman. Yet standing there with Becky, he felt thoughts stirring that unsettled him. She was undeniably captivating, and now she was close again, within reach in a way she hadn't been for years.
Still, reason pressed in. Becky could not be the one. He had always imagined a different kind of partner—someone younger, untouched by the weight of marriage and motherhood. Becky carried a past: a husband, a child, and the scars of both. She was likely a few years older than him, too. Desire tugged at him, but logic insisted she was not the choice he had been preparing himself to make.
"Now that you're around, I hope we can catch up from time to time," he said, his tone casual, but his gaze lingered on her a moment too long.
"I'd like that," she replied, her own heart stirring in ways she hadn't expected. "Just… call me when you're free."
"I will," he said, but there was a pause, as if he wanted to say more.
For a long moment, neither moved. The world around them seemed to fade. Then, with a small, reluctant nod, they stepped back, letting the distance grow—but neither truly letting go.