One Man, A Heart for Many
The Arrival
It all started when she came into our lives. I didn’t think much of it at first. I knew Kimani was the type to indulge in something new with enthusiasm—he’d always been like that, passionate and easily excited. When I first noticed the extra spring in his step, the gleam in his eyes, I thought it was just another one of his phases. A new hobby, a new interest, something to occupy his mind for a while.
But this time, it was different.
He began spending more time with her, more than I’d expected. At first, I was amused by it, even teased him a bit. He’d come home with that wide grin, talking about how amazing she was, how she made him feel alive in a way nothing else did. I’d laugh, telling him he was smitten, that he was like a schoolboy with a crush.
And he was. But I didn’t feel threatened. Why should I? I am the one he married. We’d been through so much together. I was secure in our love.
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The Late Nights
But then the late nights started. I’d wake up to find him gone, the sheets cold beside me. I’d hear the faint sounds of movement downstairs, the door closing softly, and then the distant hum as he slipped away into the night.
I wasn’t worried. He’d done this before—taking off for a drive when he needed to clear his head, or when something was on his mind. But as the weeks passed, it became a routine. He’d leave at odd hours, sometimes even before dawn, always quiet, always careful not to wake me.
And when he returned, there was this look in his eyes—a kind of distant satisfaction, a weariness mixed with contentment. He’d crawl back into bed, pressing a quick kiss to my neck before wrapping himself around me and drifting off to sleep, as if nothing had happened.
I told myself it was fine. He needed this, whatever it was. I had no reason to be jealous, no reason to worry. It was only an infatuation that would die down, Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
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The Accident
Then came the night of the accident. It was raining heavily, and I was at home, waiting for him to return. When the phone rang, my heart skipped a beat. It was him, his voice shaky, his words rushed.
“We’ve had an accident,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what happened... one minute everything was fine, and the next...”
My breath caught in my throat. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“She’s hurt,” he said, almost to himself. “They’ve taken her... they’ve taken her away.”
I rushed to the scene, but by the time I got there, she was gone. They’d taken her into police custody. Kimani was standing by the side of the road, drenched, looking like a man who’d lost everything.
“She’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure him, all while convincing myself id be fine too. His eyes were vacant, his mind elsewhere and I realized how much this had affected him—how deeply he was connected to her.
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The Distance
In the days that followed, Kimani became a different man. He was withdrawn, absent-minded, barely there even when he was home. He’d sit for hours, staring off into space, his thoughts clearly miles away. The man who once filled our home with laughter and life was now a ghost, haunting the rooms with his silence.
He barely spoke to me, and when he did, his words were clipped, his tone distracted. I tried to reach out to him, to bring him back to me, but it was like trying to hold onto smoke. He was lost in his own world, a world where I couldn’t follow.
And that’s when the doubt began to creep in. Maybe I had underestimated the hold she had on him. Maybe this wasn’t just a harmless infatuation, a passing phase. Maybe she had become something more—something I couldn’t compete with.
I started to feel it then, that gnawing sense of insecurity. It was obvious that that girl had a hell of a grip on my man.
But I pushed those thoughts aside, telling myself that once she was back, everything would return to normal.
---
The Return
After what felt like an eternity, the day finally came. She was back, and I could see the relief in Kimani’s eyes, the way his entire body seemed to relax as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
That evening, he asked me to come with him, to take a ride, just the two of us. I agreed, hoping that this would be the moment when things would go back to the way they were.
As we drove through the city, I watched him carefully, looking for any sign that the man I loved was still there. His hands moved effortlessly, smoothly, his entire body in tune with her. Every touch, every movement, was precise, deliberate, as if they were dancing together.
“She’s so smooth,” he murmured, his voice filled with that same awe. “Every touch, every turn... it’s like she was made for me.”
I watched him, my heart aching with a mix of emotions—relief, love, and a lingering doubt that I couldn’t shake.
When we finally pulled back into the driveway, Kimani turned to me, his eyes softening. He reached out, taking my hand in his, pulling me close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been so lost without her, but I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough.”
I looked at him, the tears welling up in my eyes, and I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me tight. I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the warmth of his embrace melt away the last of my fears.
And then, as I looked over his shoulder, my eyes fell on her—sleek, black, and gleaming under the streetlights. The car. His Audi A6, 2015. The other one.
I let out a small, breathless laugh, the tension in my chest finally easing. “She’s a car,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “An incredible, exhilarating car, and this is the one for you.”
Kimani kissed the top of my head, his grip tightening. “Yes,” he said softly. “And you’re the one I love.”
As we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. "I'm the one you come home to," I joked in petty stubbornness. I was the one he held close, the one he couldn’t live without.
And as we walked back into the house, leaving the car behind us, I knew that we would be okay. The man could enjoy his passions, his Audi A6 2015. I will always hold his heart in love.
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