The club lights painted Nakuru in neon blues and wild reds, bass vibrating through the walls, laughter drowning in music. Grace clung to Boaz like a permanent accessory, laughing too loudly, brushing his shoulder, whispering things only childhood best friends were allowed to whisper.
Nasieku watched from a distance.
“They look… close, don’t they?” her friend whispered.
“Too close,” Nasieku muttered, her chest tightening.
When a slow song played, she gathered courage.
“Boaz… dance?” she asked softly.
Grace’s laugh cut the air.
“Ahh no no, he promised me this one. Right, Boaz?”
Boaz hesitated. One second. Two seconds. The hesitation was enough to kill something in Nasieku.
“Yeah… we already agreed,” Boaz said, eyes not meeting hers.
Her heart burned. So I’m nothing. Just vibes.
“Haya basi, enjoy,” Nasieku forced a smile and walked away.
She didn’t cry. That would mean she cared too openly. Instead, she went to the bar.
“One tequila,” she told the bartender.
“Make it two. I’ll pay,” a familiar voice said.
She turned.
Lazarus.
Dressed in dark jeans, sleeves folded, masculinity in human form. Calm. Tall. Dangerous to the soul.
“You again…” she breathed.
“Looks like fate is stubborn,” he smirked.
They talked. About life. About expectations. About loneliness.
“You look like someone with too much heart for a world that doesn’t know how to use it,” Lazarus said softly.
Her throat tightened.
“Boaz is lucky, you know,” he added.
She laughed bitterly. “Hakujui. He doesn’t even see me.”
Lazarus watched her… really watched her.
And for the first time… someone saw the broken parts too.
“Come. This place is loud. I know somewhere better,” he said.
She hesitated — then looked toward Boaz.
He didn’t notice. Grace whispered into his ear, laughing.
Nasieku swallowed the ache.
“Okay,” she whispered.
They left.
He took her to his art studio. Soft jazz. Warm lighting. Wine. Paintings of life in broken strokes.
They laughed. Danced. He held her waist.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
“I’m afraid of myself,” she whispered.
Then his lips were on hers.
One kiss turned into another. Then into sins painted between breaths.
And that night, Nasieku slept with Boaz’s father.
A sin sweet enough to damn heaven.