WHEN THE RAIN STOPS FALLING.

EPISODE 13: WHEN PATHS CROSS AGAIN

It took me two weeks to see him again. The night was cold and windy. I had my first genuine chance to present my idea to investors at a local showcase for small businesses being held at the community centre. I had practiced for days, perfecting every little thing. I was filled with pride as I stood close to my small stand, samples carefully arranged. I owned this. Mine, not borrowed, not shared.

I was talking to a woman from a nearby non-governmental organisation when I sensed a familiar presence behind me. An affection. A silence. He was there when I turned. Emeka. He had the same appearance, perhaps a little more worn out around the eyes, but he always smiled softly when he saw me. My heart skipped a beat, yet the world continued on. Only once.

With his hands in his pockets, he replied softly, "I heard your name on the program list." "I had to visit and see what you have constructed." I managed a courteous grin as I nodded. "It's still being worked on." His voice was now lower as he moved closer. "A lovely one."

A pause occurred. We both took our time filling it. Even though the event's cacophony persisted all around us, we felt as though we were alone in our own small world. "What you said has been on my mind," he continued. Regarding the necessity for space. about preserving your identity. You were correct, too. I was disarmed by his candour. He went on to say, "I also realised that I had to be certain about what I wanted." I had to make sure there was no doubt in what I was offering you.

ambiguity. I folded my arms, not so much in defence as in contemplation. "Now, what do you want?" He gazed at me—directly into the woman I had become, not through or past me. "You. I wish to walk beside you—on your terms—rather than as a part of my existence.

I took a while to respond. Unlike the previous iteration of myself, I didn't swoon or rush forward. Rather, I turned my attention to the people who were visiting my booth, the power I had discovered, and the support I had fostered. Then I turned back to Emeka, and for the first time in weeks, I saw the prospect of something genuine rather than a threat or cause for concern. Something was earned.

After the event, I eventually said, "Let's talk." As two individuals who have matured. They have witnessed what it takes to choose one another again and what it means to break. He grinned patiently. "I'll be present." He was, too. Emeka remained until after the audience dispersed and the lights went down. And I felt something soft develop inside of me as we sat on the center's low stairs, drinking leftover juice and conversing like old friends reuniting.

Not fireworks. Fairy stories, no. Just a simple fact: love may return stronger if it is allowed to grow up. To walk alongside, not to save. Perhaps that was all I ever required.