CAUGHT DIBS ON YOU

The story of how Luyando met Mubanga was the kind of thing people think only happens in movies—pure coincidence, perfectly timed, and wrapped in a little chaos. But for her, it didn’t feel cinematic. It felt like embarrassment, heat, and panic all mixed into one moment that would later become her favorite memory. That morning, Lusaka felt louder than usual. Even the sun seemed to burn with unnecessary enthusiasm as she navigated through crowds entering the Zambia Innovation Expo. She had arrived with purpose—and pressure. Her job was on the line. Her boss had made it painfully clear the day before: “If we don’t get at least one major tech client this month, consider your contract expired.” So yes, she walked into the Expo with a weight sitting firmly on her chest. The air-conditioning inside the venue barely helped. Her palms were already sweaty as she clutched her notebook and a cup of iced coffee like her life depended on it. She whispered to herself, “You just need one client. Just one. Don’t overthink. Just smile. Pitch. Smile again.” Small companies crowded the edges of the exhibition hall while bigger, more expensive stands took center stage—shiny, loud, confident. She wished her courage looked like that. While adjusting her ID badge, she stepped back—and collided with someone. Everything went into slow motion. Her iced coffee tipped forward. The cup flew from her hand like it had a personal vendetta. Brown liquid spilled across a crisp, white shirt. “Oh my God, no no no—I'm so sorry!” Luyando gasped, mortified as she tried to wipe his shirt with tissue that only spread the coffee more. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” the man said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Please don’t worry.” But she was worrying. She wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. “I swear it was an accident. I was just—” “Nervous?” he guessed, with the smallest smile tugging at his lips. She blinked. His voice was calm. His eyes soft. His smile… unfair. This man looked like he had been crafted by someone who understood the assignment too well—tall, clean-cut, and carrying a quiet confidence that radiated without effort. “I… yes,” she admitted, defeated. “I’m Luyando. And I’m really, really sorry.” “I’m Mubanga,” he said, extending a hand that still had droplets of coffee on it. “And it’s honestly fine. I should’ve seen you stepping back.” She shook his hand hesitantly. “I owe you a new shirt.” He chuckled. “Or at least another coffee. Since yours died a tragic death.” And for the first time since she entered the Expo, she laughed. --- A Connection That Shouldn't Have Happened They moved to the side, away from the traffic of attendees. Luyando expected the conversation to end quickly—maybe a polite apology, awkward silence, then goodbye. But instead, they spoke like two old friends reconnecting after years apart. “What brings you to the Expo?” Mubanga asked, leaning casually against a tall display board. “Work,” she replied. “I’m trying to pitch marketing solutions to tech companies.” “Sounds stressful.” “It’s… extremely stressful,” she confessed. “My job depends on it.” He nodded thoughtfully, as if he understood more than she said. “What about you?” she asked. “I run a fintech startup with a few partners,” he said. “We’re showcasing here too.” Her mind froze. A startup? A tech startup? A potential client? But just as quickly as the thought came, she shoved it away. He was being kind. She didn’t want to turn the conversation into a desperate pitch and ruin the moment. She glanced at the brown stain on his shirt again. “I really messed up your outfit.” He looked down, shrugged, and smiled. “Gives it character.” Luyando laughed softly. “Well… it was nice meeting you.” “Likewise,” he said. They didn’t exchange numbers. Didn’t promise to meet again. Nothing. When he walked away, she felt something odd—some strange tug inside her chest. Something she knew she shouldn’t entertain. She sighed, shook herself out of whatever emotional haze she was sinking into, and got back to her mission. But her mind kept replaying his smile. --- By Afternoon, She Was Exhausted Hours passed. Her throat was dry from pitching to people who politely nodded but clearly weren’t interested. Her feet ached. Her stack of business cards was almost gone. The more she tried, the more she felt the failure tightening around her like a noose. She stepped outside for air. The breeze was warm, carrying the scent of street vendors grilling maize nearby. It grounded her, reminding her of home—of her mother telling her, “A strong woman doesn't give up, even when her knees are shaking.” She swallowed the frustration and returned inside. --- The Second Encounter Just after 4 p.m., as she was adjusting a display board, someone tapped her shoulder. She turned, and her breath hitched. “Hey,” Mubanga said, looking as if he’d been scanning the room for her. “You came back?” she asked, surprised. “Well… I wasn’t sure if your day was going well,” he said. “And I realized something.” “What?” “You never actually got to drink your coffee.” She blinked. He was holding a takeaway cup. “For you,” he said. Luyando blinked again. “You… got me coffee?” He nodded, smiling a little sheepishly. “Is that strange?” “Yes. But a good strange.” She took it, warmth blooming in her chest. “Thank you.” He leaned slightly closer. “Also… if you’re still trying to get clients, I’d like to hear your pitch.” Her heart dropped to her stomach. In a good way. In a terrifying way. “Really?” “Really.” She tried to hide the excitement. Failed. They sat at an empty table. And suddenly, she wasn’t nervous. Something about him made her feel safe—seen. “So,” he said playfully. “Sell me your magic.” And she did. She spoke passionately, confidently, like she had been doing this for years. Not once did he check his phone. He gave her his full attention, occasionally nodding or smiling encouragingly. It was the kind of moment every marketer dreams of—when someone genuinely listens. When she finished, she held her breath. Mubanga leaned back. “You’re good.” “You don’t have to be nice—” “I’m not being nice. You’re good.” Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you.” “I’ll think about it,” he said. “But either way… I’d like us to talk again. About more than business.” Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure he heard it. He gave her his number. No hesitation. No weirdness. “See you tomorrow?” she asked before thinking. “Definitely,” he said, smiling in that disarming way again. “I caught dibs on you yesterday. Not planning to disappear.” She froze. He winked. Then he walked away. And Luyando stood there like someone had unplugged her brain. --- Evening Thoughts That Weren’t Helpful At home, Luyando lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The fan hummed softly above her as she replayed the day—from the coffee disaster to the pitch, to the way his eyes softened when he looked at her. “What is happening?” she whispered to herself. She wasn’t looking for love. She barely had time for her job, let alone romance. But Mubanga had made something inside her shift. Her phone buzzed. A message. From him. Made it home safe? Her smile came instantly. Yes. You? Just reached. Try not to spill coffee on anyone tomorrow 😄 She typed back: No promises 😂 They talked for an hour—about work, music, childhood memories, the frustration of Lusaka traffic. His texts felt warm, genuine. Nothing forced. Before sleeping, he sent: Goodnight, Luyando. She stared at the message longer than she should have. Goodnight, Mubanga. --- Day Two — The Pull Intensifies The next morning, she woke up earlier than usual. She put more effort into her appearance without admitting to herself why. She arrived at the Expo thirty minutes early. Again, without admitting why. And when she saw him walking toward her, dressed in a fresh shirt and holding two coffees this time, her heartbeat did something traitorous. “You’re early,” he said. “So are you,” she countered. He shrugged. “Maybe I was hoping to see someone.” She looked away, flustered. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re easy to find.” She raised an eyebrow. “You stand out,” he added softly. Her chest tightened in a way that scared her and thrilled her at the same time. They walked around the Expo together. Talked. Laughed. Every minute with him felt too comfortable. She tried to be professional. Really, she did. But every time he looked at her, her thoughts turned into butterflies. --- And Then It Happened Around noon, after hours of him gently teasing her about being “too serious,” something shifted between them. They were standing near a booth showcasing solar-powered home systems when a group of exhibitors passed by, bumping her slightly. Mubanga instinctively reached out, steadying her by the waist. Her breath caught. He didn’t let go right away. “Careful,” he murmured. She looked up at him—really looked—and something unspoken passed between them. For a moment, the entire Expo faded. It was stupid. Illogical. Too fast. But undeniable. He released her slowly. Luyando stepped back, her entire body buzzing. “We should… keep walking,” she said awkwardly. “Yes,” he replied, voice lower than before. “We should.” --- The Invitation At the end of the day, just when she thought she had managed to hide her feelings well enough, he caught her off guard again. “Join me for dinner?” he asked. “Dinner?” she repeated dumbly. “You know… the meal after lunch?” he teased. “Why?” “Because I want to get to know you.” He paused. “Not your pitch. Not your work. You.” Her heart melted into a puddle. But her mind panicked. Dinner meant crossing a line she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross. “I… don’t know,” she whispered. He nodded, gentle. “No pressure. Just say yes if your heart wants to. Not your job. Not fear.” And that sentence undid her. Because her heart did want to. “Okay,” she said softly. “Dinner.” His smile was slow, warm, and devastating. “Good,” he said. “Because I caught dibs on you. And I’m not planning to let go anytime soon.” And just like that… the story truly began.