SIX WEEKS WITH HIM

six weeks with him

*Three months later. 6 PM. Varsity Pitch.*

The rumors didn’t die. They just got boring.

“Kimani and Kip are dating” trended for two days, then got buried under exam week memes and a KU vs UoN football fight video. Dennis kept his mouth shut after Coach pulled him aside. Dr. Onyango never brought it up again, but she did start scheduling my sessions earlier in the day.

We stayed quiet. Not secret, but not public either. No posts. No hand-holding in the library.

Just us.

And that was enough.

Lucas jogged over to where I sat on the bench, sweaty and grinning after practice.

“Two weeks clean,” he said, dropping down beside me. “No swelling, no pain. Dr. Onyango says I’m officially boring.”

“Good,” I said. “Boring is safe.”

He bumped my shoulder. “You miss the drama?”

“No,” I said honestly. “I miss you not limping.”

He laughed.

For a while we just sat there, watching the sun go down over the pitch. Same place we had that fight less than 2 months ago. Feels like years ago.

“You know,” Lucas said quietly, “I used to think six weeks was a long time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Thought it was enough to get my knee right and get back to rugby.” He looked at me. “Turns out it was enough to get something better.”

I looked away before he saw me go soft. “Don’t get cheesy on me.”

“Why not? It’s true.” He paused. “You still want to do this? Even now that it’s real and not just ‘after the contract’?”

I turned to face him.

“Lucas,” I said, “I’ve been choosing you since day 1, I’m not stopping now.”

He smiled like I’d just told him he’d won the championship.

“Good,” he said. “Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go.”

He didn’t kiss me there. Still too many people around. But he reached over and laced his fingers through mine.

Open. Casual. Real.

My phone buzzed. Aisha: _Are you two ever gonna post a pic or what?? Campus needs content._

I showed it to Lucas.

He typed back for me: _Some things are better off the timeline. See you in class, Aisha._

“Bold,” I said.

“Truth,” he said. “We don’t owe anyone a performance.”

We stood up together.

“Walk me to the gate?” he asked.

“Only if you promise not to jog.”

“No promises,” he said, grinning.

And we walked out together. Not patient and physio. Not secret.

Just Kip and Lucas.

Six weeks started it.

But we’re not done.

---

*Epilogue: One Year Later*

Lucas starts every game.

I’m in my final year, doing my placement at Kenyatta Hospital.

We still meet at Java House on Saturdays.

We still don’t post anything.

And every time he scores a try, I watch him point to the stands.

Right at me.

---