The next morning, Dar es Salaam felt emptier than usual. My apartment was too quiet, the city below alive but muted in my own mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about her the way the moonlight had caught her hair, the way she had smiled without smiling, the way she had looked at me as if she had known me for a lifetime.
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I poured coffee, the bitter aroma failing to clear my thoughts. My assistant, Grace, knocked lightly before stepping in.
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Grace: Morning, Leo. You look… distracted. Big meeting today, remember?
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Leo: I remember.
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Grace: You didn’t sleep well?
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Leo: Something like that.
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She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Grace had been working with me for five years; she knew when to pry and when to leave me alone.
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The boardroom that afternoon was tense, full of investors and colleagues, but my mind kept drifting back to Zanzibar. I could still feel her hand in mine, the warmth and certainty of it.
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Later, in the evening, I received a message on WhatsApp. A number I didn’t recognize.
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Unknown Number: “It was nice meeting you last night. – Ariana”
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My heart skipped. I had memorized that smile before even knowing her name.
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Leo (thinking): How did she even get my number?
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I typed back carefully:
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Leo: “It was nice meeting you too. Are you still in Zanzibar?”
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Ariana: “No, I flew back to Nairobi this morning. But maybe our paths will cross again.”
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I smiled, though no one could see me. Somehow, I knew she wasn’t bluffing.
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Two weeks later, fate intervened. I was attending a business gala in Nairobi, negotiating a partnership with a tech startup. The venue was packed, lights low, chandeliers glimmering against the polished floors. I scanned the crowd briefly before a familiar laugh reached my ears.
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It was her.
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Leo (thinking): No. It can’t be…
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I turned toward the sound and there she was, standing near the refreshment table, talking animatedly with a group of young entrepreneurs. Her midnight-blue dress this time replaced with a crisp cream ensemble, hair pulled back elegantly, and eyes scanning the room… as if she was looking for me.
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Leo (thinking): She’s… here.
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I approached cautiously.
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Leo: Ariana?
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She turned, her eyes widening slightly, and then a slow smile spread across her face the kind that reaches the eyes and stays there.
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Ariana: Leo.
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It felt like the ocean from Zanzibar had somehow moved across countries to meet us here.
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Leo: I didn’t expect to see you here.
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Ariana: And I didn’t expect you to follow me to Nairobi.
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Leo: I didn’t… follow. Just… coincidental timing, perhaps?
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She laughed, a soft, musical sound. But I caught the hint of mischief in her gaze.
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Ariana: Coincidence, huh? I’ll buy that… for now.
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The gala continued around us, but we moved to a quieter corner, away from the flashing cameras and the clinking glasses. She told me about her work in Nairobi a new project with an NGO focusing on youth empowerment. I listened, fascinated, noticing small gestures: the way she brushed her hair behind her ear, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about her dreams.
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Leo: You’re… incredible.
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Ariana: That’s what they all say.
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Leo: But I mean it. You have this… fire.
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Her eyes softened for a moment.
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Ariana: And you, Leo, are relentless in chasing…?
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Leo: Business. Success. Survival, maybe.
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Ariana: And yet, here you are, smiling like you’re about to admit there’s more to life than work.
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I didn’t answer immediately. How could I? She had this uncanny way of cutting through my defenses with just a glance.
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Later that night, after the gala, I returned to my hotel overlooking the Nairobi skyline. The city lights reflected on the river, a mirror of the stars above. My phone buzzed again her name lighting up the screen.
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Ariana: “Don’t think this is over. We’re just getting started.”
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I held the phone close, heart racing. For the first time in years, I felt… alive.
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But with that excitement came a whisper of caution. I didn’t know her fully, and neither did she know me. And yet, the universe seemed intent on weaving our worlds together two strangers, oceans apart, now inevitably entwined.
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And I, for one, was powerless to resist.
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