Ada hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen, the weight of Kamsi’s stare pressing into her. She could feel the tension between them, thick and unrelenting, like the heat swarming and scorching outside their hotel window.
“It’s Joy, isn’t it?” Kamsi’s voice was calm, but there was a tremor beneath it.
Ada sighed and locked her phone. “Yeah.”
Kamsi scoffed, shaking her head as she stood up. “Unbelievable.”
“It’s not what you think, Kamsi,” Ada started, but Kamsi turned to face her, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“Then tell me, Ada. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re still entertaining her. That you still have unfinished business with her.”
Ada exhaled sharply, running a hand through her braids. “That’s not fair.”
“Not fair?” Kamsi let out a dry laugh. “I traveled all the way here, hoping—” She stopped herself, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“Hoping for what?” Ada stepped closer. “Say it, Kamsi.”
Kamsi bit her lip, looking away. “Hoping that this trip would remind us of what we had. That maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back.” Her voice broke slightly. “But instead, I have to watch you and your ex play some unresolved, unspoken game.”
Ada’s chest tightened. “There’s nothing between Joy and me. Not anymore.”
“Then why did you hesitate just now?” Kamsi’s eyes locked onto hers. “Why did you even consider going?”
Ada’s mouth opened, then closed. She knew the answer, but saying it felt dangerous. Because the truth was, part of her had always been running—from the feelings she had for Kamsi, from the way they scared her, from the weight of loving someone so deeply it made her vulnerable.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe because I’m scared.”
Kamsi’s expression softened, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Scared of what?”
“Of you.” Ada took a shaky breath. “Of how much you mean to me. Of how much power you have over me.”
Kamsi blinked. “Ada—”
“No, let me finish,” Ada interrupted, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. “I loved you then, and I love you now. And I hate that you left. I hate that I wasn’t enough reason for you to stay. And maybe, just maybe, I thought if I let myself get distracted, if I entertained Joy even a little, it wouldn’t hurt so much to know that you might leave again.”
Silence. Thick, suffocating.
Then Kamsi reached for Ada’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I was scared too,” she admitted. “Leaving you broke me. Every day in Benin felt like I was living someone else’s life. But I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I buried it, ignored it, I could move on.”
Ada swallowed hard. “And did you?”
Kamsi shook her head. “Not even for a second.”
Ada exhaled, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “So we’re just two cowards, then?”
Kamsi smiled softly. “Maybe.” Then, she tugged Ada forward, closing the last bit of space between them. Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss—one that spoke of lost time, of unspoken words, of everything they had been too afraid to admit.
When they finally pulled away, Kamsi rested her forehead against Ada’s. “No more running?” she whispered.
Ada nodded. “No more running.”
The next morning, they packed their things in comfortable silence, the weight between them lifted. As they wheeled their suitcases to the hotel entrance, Kamsi reached for Ada’s hand, squeezing it gently.
“What now?” Ada asked as they stepped outside.
Kamsi smiled. “Now, we go home. And this time, we do it together.”
THE END.