Camp life in Port Harcourt was everything Splendour didn't expect loud, busy, and full of faces she'd never seen but somehow already felt connected to. The air smelled of dust, rain, and adventure. Every morning started with the trumpet call, and every night ended with laughter echoing through the hostels.
Enisa was her constant her calm in the noise.
And Alfred… well, he was still her home. Their love was still there patient, loyal, and gentle.
Every evening, she'd find a quiet corner, sit on the hostel step, and call him.
"Did you eat today?"
"Yes, I did. You?"
"Of course. Stop worrying, Alfred."
He would laugh, soft and proud. Then they'd talk about everything and nothing until the night guard's whistle signaled lights-out. It was routine. Sweet, familiar.
But life has a way of introducing new characters when the story starts to feel too steady.
It happened one Thursday evening after fellowship. Splendour had just finished singing her voice soft, trembling slightly with emotion as she led the final worship song. The crowd was still humming when she stepped down from the podium, clutching her songbook.
That was when she saw him.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Skin like smooth bronze under the fluorescent light.
And eyes kind eyes that lingered too long when they met hers.
He smiled, slow and confident. "You have a beautiful voice," he said, stepping closer. "It's the kind of voice that makes people forget their worries."
Splendour blushed, lowering her gaze. "Thank you."
"I'm Kingsley," he added, stretching out his hand.
"Splendour," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
From that simple exchange, something new began.
At first, it was small casual conversations after fellowship, short walks back to the hostel gate, polite smiles across the campfire crowd.
Then came the calls.
Then the texts.
Then the laughter that felt too easy, too free.
Kingsley had a charm that was difficult to ignore. He wasn't just handsome he had that playful gentleness that made every woman feel seen. His humor came effortlessly, and when he looked at Splendour, it was like she was the only one in the world.
One night, after a camp social event, he offered to walk her back. The moonlight glowed softly across the field, and she found herself laughing more than she had in weeks.
At the hostel gate, he stopped.
"Can I see you tomorrow?"
She hesitated Alfred's voice still warm in her memory from their earlier call.
But Kingsley's eyes… they held something different. Something she couldn't explain.
"Maybe," she said softly.
From "maybe" came "yes."
From compliments came promises of dinner.
From friendly walks came late-night strolls under the moon.
And from laughter… came hands brushing, then holding, then not wanting to let go.
Each time she felt his touch, her heart reminded her of Alfred loyal, patient, constant.
But her mind whispered, This feels new.
And that was how it began quiet, soft, dangerous.