Splendour had started hanging out more with Kingsley late walks, shared meals, endless laughter that echoed through the evening breeze. She barely noticed how her phone vibrated in her pocket anymore. Alfred's name would flash on her screen again and again, but her heart no longer raced like it used to.
Sometimes, she'd catch herself staring at her left hand at the ring Alfred gave her years ago. It felt heavier now, like a silent reminder of a promise she no longer understood.
Kingsley couldn't hold it in anymore. One cool evening, after a fellowship outreach, he looked into her eyes and spoke softly, "Splendour… every time I see you, it feels like sunrise after a long storm. You make the noise in my head go quiet."
She froze. His words melted into her heart like poetry she had secretly longed to hear. She wanted to fight it, but her soul betrayed her. Somewhere deep inside, she knew she loved Kingsley more than she had ever loved Alfred.
"Kingsley…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please, just… give me time."
He nodded, smiling gently, "I'll wait. Even if it takes forever."
From that day, Splendour stopped reading Alfred's long text messages. His calls became a burden, his gifts a reminder of guilt she couldn't bear.
Alfred noticed the distance. The cheerful girl who once laughed at his silly jokes now replied with short, tired words. He tried to act strong, but the silence between them was deafening. One evening, during a call that ended too soon, Alfred said coldly,
"I don't know what's changing, Splendour… but if there's someone else, just be honest with me."
The line went dead before she could answer.
She held her phone close to her chest, tears burning her eyes. She had found someone — but in finding Kingsley, she was losing herself.