Slowly, Becky regained her composure. She finished washing, dried herself, and dressed.
Yet the warmth of his presence a while ago, lingered — a ghost she could not shake. And so did the echo of his touch. It pressed against her skin making the walls she had built around herself weaken.
She returned to her room and sank into the bed, drawing the duvet to cover the whole of her body. She closed her eyes willing herself to sleep. But sleep would not come. She was burning. His intrusion had set fire flowing into her blood. Should I find his room? She debated. Her mind was fogging as she picked through her thougts.
Her hands trembled slightly as she rose and moved quietly into the corridor and through the house. She stopped at a door outside one of the rooms. Hoping it ledto his bedroom, she knocked softly and waited.
The door opened and he appeared. He still wore only a towel.
"Sorry to disturb," she murmured, voice tight. "I need lotion. Do you have it here?"
For a heartbeat, he did not speak only his eyes searched hers, steady and unflinching. Then he reached for her, pulling her close. She felt his lips on hers and with deliberate and sure intent, kissed.
All doubts in Koech mind, that she had agreed to offer herself to him, were cleared.
Becky, now in a state of overwhelming sensation, was mindless and thoughtless. Any good sense she had in the past clung to had burned away in the fire and so had calculation and debate.
They moved together drawing toward the bed, the world narrowing to breath, touch and quiet urgency. And she gave and took pleasure.
But then, when it was over, the room felt strangely still, and like a returning tide, her rational mind returned. And with it, the weight of what had happened.
It pressed heavily in on her.
She lay sleepless beside him, listening to his breathing as sleep claimed him. The ease with which he drifted off startled her.
Her own thoughts refused rest. They went back in time and met those women at Tirita who had once spoken against her: the devastating judgment that elders had passed.
And she could not believe she had now become what she had always denied.
In the morning, she slipped quietly from the bed going straight to the bathroom, she washed again, scrubbing as though water could undo the liaison.
When she dressed, her movements were quick and purposeful. She did not wake him. She did not leave a note.
She hurried to her apartment.
It was still dark and the air was cool. The road was empty as she walked away.
A hollow ache settled in her chest — not exactly regret, but something heavier, more complicated. She had wanted him. That truth remained stubborn and undeniable.
***
A month later, Becky plucked the last shirt from the clothesline. The air had warmed. The sun, now high up the sky, had driven away the mist that ruled the early morning hours.
Inside her room, she dropped the bundle of laundry onto the bed and began folding one by one, carefully pressing flat every crease with the palm of her hand.
When she pulled open one of the drawers at the bottom of her wardrobe, looking for storage space, the corner of a packet of sanitary pads caught her eye.
Her fingers stilled.
Three days.
Her cycle was never irregular and certainly never late.
A thin thread of unease slid through her. But no. It was too soon to panic. Perhaps the move, the unfamiliar rhythm of the campus life coupled with the cold weather of Kericho town — her body was adjusting. Yes. That was all.
She shut the drawer too quickly finding a different storage space for her clothes in a suitcase.
And just as quickly, she pushed her worries away.
But a week later she stood in the same spot, the same drawer open, the same packet untouched.
Still nothing.
The worries returned. This time there was no wishing them away. Something was off.
She had to be certain. She picked a jacket, put it on and left her room.
At the clinic, the sharp scent of disinfectant made her stomach tighten. She watched as the clinical officer disappeared to a make-shift lab behind a curtain with her sample. Each small sound of his movement behind the fabric felt amplified and every second he spent in there was a torturous delay.
Finally, he returned, his face wore an easy smile.
"Be happy," he said gently extending the test kit towards her
She took it nervously.
"A new life is forming inside you." The clinical officer added.
Becky darted another look at his face. His words did not echo. They settled.
Her gaze returned to the kit she was holding and at the two lines that affirmed the results.
Pregnant.
For one brief, disorienting moment, the faculties of her mind became a battlefield for the conflicting emotions within her.
Life. Inside her; tiny little thing at the onset of a long journey.
Then guilt crashed over the joy of her second chance at motherhood.
She was still a married woman. The discovery just made was evidence of infidelity in separation.
Tesot's face rose in her mind, stern and distant. The fragile hope she had secretly nurtured — that one day he might return — crumbled quietly. How would he take her back now, with another man's child growing in her womb?
"How much?" She inquired of her medical bill.
"Two hundred?"
"Can I pay with Mpesa?"
"Yeah," the clinical officer said his eyes shifting to a printed piece of paper posted on the wall near the door. " The till number is over there.
Later, in her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, hands pressed between her knees reflecting on her new situation.
Another child.
Kiplimo's absence lived inside her like an unhealed wound. Some nights she could almost hear his breathing in the dark.
Maybe this child was Godsend, a replacement for Kiplimo
Yet she was terrified.
And what of the kids father?
Should she tell him? Would that draw him closer. Would he claim rights, claim her? But as who? Accepting him would make her a woman with two husbands.
No.
The word formed slowly and as quietly as had the little life inside her.
This child would be hers. Entirely hers. No strings attached. No negotiations. No debts to its father.
And thinking of the devil, Koech's calls began. She only leaned forward to look at the screen and let the phone vibrate itself into silence. Once. Twice. Then countless times.
Each missed call tightened something in her chest.
She knew he would soon come looking for her. And the next day, she bought a new simcard and relocated to a new apartment without even waiting to be refunded room deposit. She even bought a new sim card.
By the time Koech began asking mutual friends about her, she had folded her life inward — shrinking her world to avoid him like a plaque.
And for six months, she heard nothing from him.