At home, the silence was soothing.

Japheth set the rice on the fire while Luyando went straight to take a long, steaming shower.

When he emerged, they ate at the dining table like old college roommates, no fancy table settings, no conversation at first, just eating and breathing.

Then Luyando spoke.

“You wouldn’t believe the things I overheard today,” he said, stabbing his fork into the rice. “Barely an hour after the burial, and people were already speculating about Kaweme.”

Japheth looked up sharply. “Speculating how?”

“Someone said she should just start a foundation with all the inheritance she’s getting,” Luyando said, his mouth twisting bitterly. “Like… as if she’s too stupid to run anything real.”

Japheth’s jaw tightened. “They don’t know her.”

“Exactly.” Luyando dropped his fork. “She’s built a beauty brand already. She’s smart. But… nobody expects anything from her. They only ever took Musonda seriously. Kaweme was the spoiled princess in everyone’s eyes.”

Japheth struggled to continue his food, but he did. He felt sick suddenly.

They finished the meal in heavy silence.

Later, while Luyando retreated to his room, muttering something about needing to sleep before he lost his mind, Japheth lingered on the couch.

He turned on the TV to distract himself and ended up watching a replay of one of Ham’s latest matches.

Watching his brother weave through defenders with such natural brilliance stirred an old ache in him.

He barely knew Ham anymore.

They had been brothers once. Then he left. Chosen survival over brotherhood.

And now… Ham was a stranger.

Kalo’s small face flashed across his mind, those big eyes filled with loss and confusion.

He thought about what it meant to be a brother.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Japheth grabbed his phone and typed a message:

“I hope you’re okay. I know this is hard. I’m praying for you. The Lord will comfort you. Good night.”

He hesitated, then hit send.

The reply came faster than he expected.

“I’m at East Park Mall. I went to the private cinema. But now I’m scared to come out. People were staring at me. I don’t know if someone’s already snapped a picture. I feel trapped.”

Japheth’s chest tightened.

He texted back immediately:

“Why would you go out alone? If I hadn’t texted, what would you have done?”

Her reply was bleak:

““Maybe stay here till morning.”

Without thinking, Japheth grabbed his keys and bolted out of the house.

As he sped toward the mall, weaving through Lusaka’s dim, sleeping streets, two words kept beating against his heart:

Not broken.

Not broken.

He couldn’t fix the world.

He couldn’t even fix himself fully.

But maybe… just maybe…

He could be somebody’s safe place.

————————————————————————————————————————–

Japheth had managed to get her out of the mall without attracting attention.

No one had recognized her, or him, and he thanked God for that.

He drove through Lusaka’s busy night without saying a word.

There was too much to say.

And yet, nothing at all.

He couldn’t scold her.

He couldn’t even bring himself to ask why she would risk herself like that.

He knew why.

Grief makes fools of us all.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, Japheth considered letting her go inside on her own.

But that didn’t feel right.

Not tonight.

Without speaking, he got out, walked around the car, and opened her door.

She didn’t protest.

Just walked beside him like a lost child.

At the reception, she fumbled with her bag, but Japheth gently took over, collected her room key, and handed it to her without a word.

He was already turning to leave when she said quietly,

“Please… come.”

He hesitated.

Then nodded.

He followed her into the hotel suite, a spacious, sterile luxury with high ceilings and wide glass windows.

She barely looked at him as she said,

“I just want to check on Kalo. Please wait.”

He nodded again.

Still standing awkwardly in the center of the living room as she disappeared down the hallway.

Minutes passed.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

By the time she returned, Japheth was wondering if he should have simply left.

But when he saw her, something about her face, blank, tired, made him stay rooted.

“Sorry,” she said, voice hoarse. “I… I spoke to the nanny. She’s already booked Kalo’s ticket. They’re leaving for America.”

Japheth blinked. “Already?”

She nodded. “She’s efficient. She said she thought it would be best to get him away from all this mess quickly.”

Japheth sat down slowly on the edge of the sofa.

“And you?” he asked. “Are you leaving too?”

She shrugged, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But Kalo… he needs someone better than me. I’ve never been… close to him. His nanny is everything to him. Me? I’m just… there.”

Her words broke something inside him.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“You’re more important than you know,” Japheth said gently. “You’re his blood. His home. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be… here.”

She laughed bitterly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“Here? In this nightmare?”

Japheth didn’t answer. Instead, he said quietly,

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad… but you can’t be running around Lusaka without security. You’re not just anyone, Kaweme. You’re very important now.”

She looked up sharply.

“I know!” Her voice cracked. “I know, okay?”

And just like that, the dam broke.

She crumpled where she stood, sobs tearing out of her chest.

Without thinking, Japheth crossed the room and caught her.

He pulled her into his arms as she wept, clinging to his shirt, clinging like she was drowning.

“Japheth,” she whispered brokenly. “I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I’m not smart enough. I ran away because I didn’t want to hear the will. I don’t want to see people fighting. I don’t want any of this. I can’t do this.”

Japheth stroked her hair, murmuring,

“Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

She pulled back, looking up at him with red, swollen eyes. “Please… don’t go.”

He hesitated. “Luyando might be wondering where I am.”

“Please.” Her plea was so soft, so small.

Japheth sighed, brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “I’ll stay a bit. But first… let’s pray.”

She nodded.

Tears still slipping silently down her cheeks.

He took her hands and bowed his head.

“Lord Jesus,” Japheth prayed, voice low and steady,

“You are the God of the brokenhearted. Kaweme is lost right now. She’s hurting. She’s confused. But you, Lord, are not confused. You are the Shepherd. Lead her. Heal her. Bring her peace where there is chaos. Give her clarity where there is confusion. Wrap her in your arms where no human arms are enough. We trust you, Father. We trust you.”

He finished softly.

But she didn’t let go.

She stayed clinging to his hands, sobbing quietly.

Gently, Japheth cupped her face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

And as he held her, something inside him shifted.

He thought he had come here to save her.

But maybe…just maybe…she was saving him too.

The Holy Spirit whispered in his spirit:

Stay with her.

And Japheth knew he would.

For as long as she needed him, he would stay.

“Let’s go to the lounge upstairs, I will be with you there till you are ready to sleep.” Japheth said, and she nodded in relief, swiftly following behind him, as they left the room.