Things We Do For Love(Conlusion)

Hello steemians! I want to express my utmost appreciation to everybody who passed by my blog and upvoted or commented on my story(THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE ) which I posted some three days back. I am very grateful.

As of yesterday I thought it would be better for us to find out what happened to Kwame after Afia gave up the ghost but I couldnt make a post because my team #manchester united suffered a demoralizing defeat at the hands of Tottenham Hotspur. But right now I am fresh out of the blocks, and ready to share the concluding part for your eyes and curiosity only.

Without further I do, enjoy the story.....

Kwame stood there stunned, shattered, empty like a shoe without a leg and angry. Angry at the world, angry at mother nature for allowing Afia to die, angry at himself for telling her they couldn’t be together and above all angry at Afia: angry at Afia for deciding to end it. He stood there reminiscing about all the days they spent together; thinking about the friendship they had dedicated their lives to building.
Did it not mean anything to Afia at all? All the times they spent taking care of each other like siblings, like lovers…did it not mean anything to her? How could she be so wicked and cowardly? How could she decide to end it without seeking permission from him? Even if they couldn’t be together as lovers, wasn’t their friendship worth saving?
Kwame stood at the abrupt end of the earth as he stared angrily at the dark ravine, which carried in its claws, Afia’s dead body. He stood watching numbly, wishing there was something he could do to undo everything Afia had done--to bring her back to life.
Suddenly reality struck him that he wouldn’t be with Afia again. He wouldn’t be able to put on his best clothes just to impress her. He wouldn’t be able to stare at her full lips again as they talked. He wouldn’t have the privilege to wander off into his own romantic fairyland. He wouldn’t be able to imagine Afia’s lips crashed against his, as he run his hands down her body, savoring every bit of her femininity. He realized that, in Afia’s absence there was a lot of things, he wouldn’t be able to do.
For instance, he thought, he wouldn’t be able to wake up late in the night and make off to Afia’s, where he would stand by the window and make some funny noises to rouse her. They would walk off alone in the night, the air around them, lovesick. In Afia’s absence there was a lot of things he couldn’t do; a lot of life he couldn’t live.
Then as he snapped out of the scores of thought which colonized his mind, the most important questions, came crawling in. How was he going to explain what had happened to both parents? He had asked for a permission to go see Afia, so if Afia ended up dead, what would be his excuse?

What I shared with Afia was nothing that I had experienced before. Well, I lived my life basically with her. I love her mum, trust me, I love her but I feared that if we started dating and I did something wrong, she wouldn’t be able to forgive me. I didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship, mum, my intentions were pure and borne of the love I have for her. So I told her we couldn’t be together, and she couldn’t take it. So she, she (his body shivering, his hands fidgeting as he struggled to mouth the words) she, jumped into that ravine and died. That would be his excuse, he thought.

Then his mind led him down memory lane again. This time he wasn’t with only Afia, his mother was there as well. They were in the kitchen together, all three of them. Then his mother went out to fetch a pack of matches to heat the leftover food from yesterday. Kwame had uncharacteristically opened the pot of soup and dipped his fingers into it, harvesting fish out of it. Afia stood by the door, her head rested against the frame and watched Kwame steal any fish of his choosing. Kwame’s mother had walked in on Afia staring unceasingly at Kwame. That was when she was fully convinced that they were meant to be together. Later, when Afia had left the house, and they were at dinner, she had told Kwame to ask for her hand. Kwame had brushed it off, saying they weren’t in the thirties and that they were just friends. But they both knew that it was more than just a friendly rapport.

Kwame conceded that he couldn’t get his parents to believe him, and most importantly, he couldn’t live without Afia. So without further to do, he threw himself into the same ravine of water and rocks, believing that if the rants about life after death were true, he would be with Afia and harvest the love they didn’t get the chance to harvest in the afterlife.

The End.

THANKS FOR READING!

IMAGES TAKEN FROM PIXABAY AND GOOGLE.