It started with a simple voice note from Manda:
"Next weekend. No formulas. No past questions. Just water, breeze, and freedom. You in?" Kwabena didn't hesitate.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere the TA in you can't follow. Pack shorts."
The Plan: Ada Foah
They kept it lowkey . no UEW buses, no social media hints. Just two seats on a morning trotro,
sunglasses, and fried yam in a polythene bag between them.
Kwabena, with his backpack full of "just in case" books.
Manda, with her sketchpad and a portable speaker playing Asa.
"You really brought books?" she teased.
"One. Just one. It's for emergencies."
"Isn't this trip to escape emergencies?"
"What if I panic without numbers?"
She rolled her eyes. Then held his hand quietly, her thumb brushing the back of his knuckles.
Beachside Bliss
Ada Foah welcomed them with wide skies and lazy waves.
They booked a small beach lodge nothing fancy, but it had everything: a fan, a mosquito net,
and a view that looked like peace itself.
They walked barefoot along the shore.
Manda picked shells.
Kwabena told stories of growing up in Kumasi, and how his dad made him do long division as punishment.
"That explains your trauma," she giggled.
"You laugh now, but wait till I teach our kids calculus at age 5."
She paused.
"Kids, eh?"
He blinked.
"Did I say that out loud?"
"Mhm."
They didn't speak for a moment.
Then she smiled gently.
"Well… only if I get to teach them how to sketch and ignore formulas."
That Night
They sat on the porch of the lodge, watching stars poke holes through the sky.
He had his arm around her.
She was wrapped in a shawl, sipping Sobolo they bought from a roadside woman earlier.
"Thank you," he said suddenly.
"For what?"
"For choosing me. For making a TA forget he's a TA."
"You're not just a TA," she whispered. "You're my person."
He leaned in and kissed her slowly, warmly.
Not rushed. Not stolen.
It was a kiss full of gratitude and quiet commitment.
They didn't speak much after.
Just let the breeze write the rest of the night's script