The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath Joey's bare feet. She stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a faded hoodie that once belonged to Paul. It smelled like old memories—sunlight, sweat, and the kind of hope that had long since soured.
Her reflection stared back, unflinching.
She leaned closer, tracing the outline of her cheekbone with a fingertip. Her face had changed. Not drastically, but enough. Her eyes held something heavier now—something earned. She tilted her head, studying the woman she'd become. Not the girl who had waited by the phone, who had believed in promises whispered under jacaranda trees. This woman had survived disappointment, betrayal, and the slow erosion of trust.
She opened her journal and began to write.
> Dear Paul,
> I came to the road today. The one where you left. I thought I'd feel anger, or grief, or something cinematic. But I didn't. I felt tired. Tired of waiting for closure. Tired of carrying your absence like a badge. I don't hate you. I just don't need you anymore.
She paused, tapping the pen against her lip. The words felt true, but incomplete. She flipped to a new page.
> Dear Zed,
> You confuse me. You challenge me. You make me feel like I'm both too much and not enough. I don't know what this is between us, but it scares me. Because it's real. And I don't know if I'm ready for real.
She stared at the page, then tore it out and crumpled it. The paper landed beside a growing pile of unsent letters—fragments of her heart she wasn't ready to share.
She walked to the window and opened it wide. The city spilled in—horns, laughter, distant music. Nairobi was alive, indifferent to her turmoil. She watched a couple walking hand in hand, their laughter rising like bubbles. She didn't envy them. She didn't resent them. She simply observed.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Wayne:
"You okay?"
She typed back:
"Not really. But I'm working on it."
Wayne replied with a single emoji: 🫂
Joey smiled. It was enough.
She turned back to the mirror. This time, she didn't look for flaws or signs of change. She looked for truth. And for the first time in weeks, she saw it.
She was healing.
Not perfectly. Not quickly.
But undeniably.