KAWEME

It had been the kind of day Kaweme wanted to freeze in time, the kind you reach out and try to hold like mist, knowing it will slip through your fingers. Japheth had cleared his schedule just for her. After a full week of lockdown, a full week of cabin fever and pacing the house like a caged bird, she was finally outside. Free. With her fiancé. And it was sweeter than any of the seven cake samples they’d just tried.

They laughed until their cheeks hurt. Tasted frosting like teenagers. Whispered little nothings that made everything feel big again. And now, on the drive back, the golden hush of the afternoon curled around them like a warm blanket.

Kaweme leaned back in her seat, watching Japheth’s hands on the wheel. “I can’t wait for the day when we go home,” she said softly. “Like, really go home. To the same place. Not this drop-off life.”

He didn’t answer immediately.

She turned. “Did you hear me?”

“I did.” He smiled. But it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She studied him for a moment. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

Japheth exhaled slowly, glanced in the rearview mirror again. “We’re being followed.”

That sentence dropped like ice in her stomach.

“What?”

“I noticed it a few blocks back. Same grey Prado. Slow. Pacing us.”

“Oh my God.” She sat up. “What do we do? Where are the soldiers?”

“They’re with us. Two cars behind. But here’s the thing, they’re waiting for instructions. We already had someone we were tailing today. That’s where all focus was supposed to be. But now, this new development…”

“Can’t they just switch focus?”

“Not without Shem. They need his call. I’ve dropped messages. But he’s not answering. Radio silent.”

Kaweme’s hand flew to her phone. “I’ll call Malaika. She’s with him.”

Japheth blinked. “Malaika?”

“Yes. I told you. That girl set her sights on your brother, and you know how she is.”

He scoffed. “I’d pay good money to watch her try. Shem is… Shem.”

Kaweme shot him a look. “Don’t underestimate the power of a pretty face and persistence. Especially on a man who hasn’t been loved properly.”

Japheth raised a brow. “Are you saying my brother hasn’t been loved properly?”

“I’m saying… you were saying you’d never get married just last year. And now look at you, whipped.” She smiled.

“True.” He chuckled, but his eyes flicked back to the rearview mirror. “Still doesn’t explain why Shem isn’t answering. This isn’t like him.”

Kaweme hit the dial.

Malaika picked on the second ring, her voice breathless with laughter. “Kaweme! I’m coming, I’m coming!” Then she hung up.

“What in the world…” Kaweme stared at her screen.

Japheth turned. “What happened?”

“She cut the call. She was laughing like she was on a rollercoaster.”

“Call her again.”

“I’ll text.” She fired off a message. Where is Shem? URGENT. Please pick up. There was no reply.

Japheth tried Shem’s number. It rang. Then rang again. No pickup.

The grey Prado was still behind them.

And the sun, which had felt golden just moments ago, now felt like a spotlight — hot and glaring.

SHEM

Shem was having the time of his life.

He couldn’t even explain this feeling, this joy. It wasn’t just laughter. It was like someone had reached inside him and tickled something soft that hadn’t been touched in years. Maybe ever. Even in childhood, he’d never felt this free, this warm, this… full.

Malaika was a walking marvel. She had insisted he try the food she called “divine,” and even though the taste confused him, he kept eating. Just so he wouldn’t disappoint her. But truth be told, watching her eat,  the way she moaned over every bite, her eyes fluttering like each flavor was a gift , that was the real meal.

He could’ve watched her for hours.

Actually, he had been. She’d dragged him into a boutique, promising to try on “just three dresses.” That was seven outfits ago. Now she was spinning in front of a mirror in a sleeveless peach number that made the room feel too warm.

“This is Kaweme’s cloth,” she had said earlier, pouting. “I need my own. And I don’t want to go home yet, so I will just buy. It’s been a while since I bought clothes anyway.”

She didn’t have to explain. The way the dresses clung to her, not too tight, not too loose, like they were made for her, she didn’t need approval. She just needed someone to see her. And Shem? He saw her. All of her.

She wasn’t fat. She wasn’t slim. She was really just his type, and he didn’t even know he had a type, till now, and somehow, she had him clapping like a fool every time she stepped out of the dressing room.

She’d twirl. He’d clap. She’d laugh. He’d melt.

And in the middle of all of it, he forgot who he was. What he was.

His phone had died an hour ago, but nothing had seemed urgent. No messages. No alarms. No movements from the stakeout. So he slipped it into his pocket and told Malaika he might need to leave soon.

She had begged him for one more boutique. Just one.

That’s how he found himself here. Applauding like a man under a spell.

Then, her phone beeped.

“Kaweme?” she frowned. “Why’s she texting me?”

Her fingers paused mid-type. “Wait… they’re looking for you.” She turned. “Shem, they’ve been trying to reach you.”

He was already reaching for his pocket. “My phone died.”

She shoved her phone into his hand. “Call her.”

He did.

Kaweme picked up on the first ring. “Malaika, thank God. Where’s Shem?”

“I’m here,” he said, taking the phone. “Is everything okay?”

Japheth’s voice came on next. Firm. Tense. “We’ve been trying to reach you, bro. For over an hour.”

“I’m sorry. My phone died. What’s going on?”

“A car’s been tailing us. The team wants to know, do they stay with the original target or switch to this one?”

Shem didn’t even pause. “Stay on the original. That car following you? It’s protocol. A decoy at best. The real lead is the one we’ve been watching since last week. Do not lose that trail. This is likely a distraction, they know we’re getting close.”

Japheth exhaled. “Alright. But they won’t move without your call.”

“I’m on it. I’ll reach the team now.” He ended the call and stepped back from the boutique entrance.

But as he turned, Malaika was already standing there in her ninth outfit, eyebrows raised.

“I was about to try the next one. Where are you going?”

Shem shook his head. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

Her face shifted. Bright joy melted into confusion, then disappointment. Her hands dropped to her sides. “Oh.”

He saw it. The sadness. The fear of rejection. It twisted something inside him.

He couldn’t be that guy. Not to her. Not when she’d made him feel like more than just a soldier in boots.

“Listen,” he softened. “It’s not your fault. I just need to power my phone, make a few calls. I’ll wait in the car. But if you need help carrying your stuff out, I’ll come back in.”

Malaika nodded slowly. “Okay. As long as you’re not mad at me.”

“I’m not,” he said, touching her shoulders briefly to assure her. “I couldn’t be. Not at you.”

She smiled, a small, bruised smile, and turned back toward the racks.

As Shem walked away, something in his chest felt tight. Too tight.

This was dangerous ground. He had a job to do. A mission to complete. Letting his heart stray could ruin everything.

She was amazing. No doubt. But she was also a distraction. And in his world, distractions could get people killed.

He needed to reset.

Fast.

Shem stood by the hood of the car, his phone finally charged and buzzing. Missed calls. Messages. Updates. Kaweme. Japheth. His men. The hour of silence had cost him more than just leadership points, it had shifted the timeline. Something was moving faster than planned.

His jaw clenched. His body straightened.

He’d barely slipped the phone back in his pocket when he spotted Corporal Simwanza walking briskly toward him from across the parking lot, cap low, stance tight.

“Sir,” the corporal saluted briefly. “We’ve been tracking you since your phone went dark. Just to confirm you were okay.”

Shem nodded. “Thanks. I need you to do something. There’s a girl with me. Malaika. She’ll be coming out any moment now. You’ll take her home.”

Simwanza’s brow lifted. “Understood, sir.”

Shem didn’t miss the pause, didn’t acknowledge it either.

He turned toward the boutique entrance just in time to see her come out. She was smiling, that open, bright Malaika smile, carrying two bags and one small box. She didn’t see the storm on his face. Not yet.

“There you are!” she beamed. “You left me with those grumpy women, do you know? I tried on a green jumpsuit I’m not even sure fits, we need to—”

“I’m not going back in,” Shem said evenly. “You’re going home.”

Malaika blinked, her smile freezing mid-laughter. “What?”

“This is Simwanza. He’ll take you.”

Malaika pulled him away from Simwanza for some privacy.

“Wait, what are you..? Why aren’t you taking me?”

“I’ve got to go.”

Her face fell completely now, confusion giving way to something close to hurt. “Shem… is everything okay?”

“No.”

He didn’t mean for it to come out that blunt. But she needed to understand this wasn’t personal, or maybe that it was too personal.

She stepped closer, voice softer. “What happened? Did something go wrong? You said this was a normal day, that nothing big would…”

“I was wrong,” Shem said coldly.

She stood there, the green jumpsuit already forgotten. “So you’re just going to… shut down like that? Like we didn’t spend the entire morning laughing? Talking? Eating, well, I was eating. You were pretending.”

Shem tried not to look at her for too long. Tried not to remember her eyes lighting up at a bad beat, her silly imitation of a runway model, her terrible, wonderful attempt to get him to smile.

“Don’t make this harder,” he said finally. “You were clear about wanting to spend time with me. I indulged that, because deep down, I wanted it too, and we both had a good time. But I have a job. A real one. And now it’s time to get back to it.”

“You can’t just flip a switch like that, Shem.”

“I have to.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, to scream even. But all she did was drop her gaze to her shoes. “Right. Of course. You’re good at war. Not feelings.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Don’t make this about feelings.”

“I’m not.” She looked back up, fire in her eyes now. “I’m making it about decency. You could at least say thank you for the company. For the food. For spending your day with me.”

That hit.

He looked away, lips pressing into a firm line. “Thank you,” he said eventually. “I mean it.”

Malaika stared at him a second longer, then handed her bags to Simwanza with a sigh. “Let’s go, Corporal. The soldier’s got a war to win.”

She walked off without looking back.

And Shem, who had smiled more today than in the last five years, climbed into his car, locked the doors, and stared at his screen as new intel began pouring in.

He wasn’t allowed to feel. Not today.