CHAPTER FIVE233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6JLZhD8VQY
The bell had rung twice already, but Musa hadn’t moved from the window. His shirt clung damply to his back, sweat from a sleepless night and the kind of fear that doesn't shake off by morning. 233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFtzEJbgic1
The compound outside was waking up slowly—boys yelling half-hearted insults across the quad, buckets slamming against concrete at the water taps, the usual mtu ni mechi leo! —indicating a laid-back, carefree bravado bouncing between Form Fours.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw9CRCNEpDr
But he wasn’t hearing any of it.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlWSh06wXaM
His eyes were fixed on the far wall.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXrg6txbudV
The one they called dunda.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvikWp772yo
Not its real name, of course. But among a few of them—the ones who’d listened more than they talked—it meant something. A place where things crossed. Notes. Looks. Sometimes, people.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzHHpgI9aj1
And last night, they’d crossed it.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEYCEFFZQsO
He still felt the burn in his arms from pulling himself up and over. Still heard the sharp breath of Otieno behind him, limping on the way back from that forbidden path.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC5eF8YNryb
Musa turned from the window, eyes falling on the side pocket of his school bag.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxNE75nkPPd
Inside, folded carefully between the cover of a torn CRE exercise book, was the first letter.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0x4YSLryYZ
"To the girl with the sunflower hair ribbon..."233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOgKrh90iVO
He never got to send it. Someone had beaten him to the wall.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCUxZbqTXrF
But now it was too late.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPzFyv2Vm89
Because last night, something changed. For months now, Musa had crossed it.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvPanRYIHw6
Quietly. Carefully.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwegBPRz4fc
Never to meet anyone specific. Not at first. It had started with passing notes, coded jokes, half-written lyrics, little trades. Some of the girls would meet them at the vines in the wall during preps or when the bell rang late. Never faces. Just fingers passing folded paper. Voices whispered through leaves.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUrFrvytXai
And sometimes… more. Otieno had someone. Musa had... no one.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgkDJlNxbLD
Except the smile.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡStTqBSen3i
That one smile. From the Madaraka Day parade a year back. She had stood there, yellow ribbon in her hair, laughing quietly at something her friend whispered. That moment had carved itself into him like a signature on wet cement.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLyI8zQf626
He had crossed the wall five times since that day. Whispered with at least three different girls. Swapped lines of poetry he barely understood. But never her.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrxaG6xtUxM
Never the girl with the sunflower ribbon.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPX0vaMvIoR
And as his feet hit the ground, he whispered to himself—barely louder than the wind:233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk4fn128r6d
“I’ll find you. One day.”233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbooO9MvfGW
He didn’t know her name. Never heard her speak. But he remembered her.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc2STCm5904
It had been during the Jamhuri Day inspection the year before, when both schools were assembled on the Jaramogi Oginga Odinga Sports Complex grounds. The sun had been brutal, melting through blazers and brows, the kind of heat that blurred vision and time.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDFtSPfzx4U
Boys stood in lines on one side of the field. Girls on the other. A gulf of baked red earth between them. She had been near the front of the girls’ group—second or third row. Her posture was sharper than the rest. Back straight, eyes forward, the kind of discipline that made a student stand out.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYi5pmxhaQf
But what caught Musa wasn’t how she stood. It was what she wore.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbL9TgXXAgU
A yellow ribbon, tied around her bun.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMSnS9rjpvh
Not school regulation. Not loud either. But defiant.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb22iW1LnRF
A silent flare of color in a world that punished difference.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0YcWKxyjcI
And then—she laughed.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwStklNope2
Quickly, quietly. Her friend must have whispered something. Her hand flew to her mouth, but the smile broke through. Just for a second. He saw it from across the field and something about it cracked open a window inside him.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXH3fFmRakt
She didn’t look his way. Probably never would.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIOjgFDVqzF
But from that day on, when he walked past the far end of the wall—the part the girls called dunda too—he always slowed his steps.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKZtUhiukbX
Just a little.233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡetxIkUAm1r
In case something waited on the other side8964 copyright protection229ＰＥＮＡＮＡuI5joSaa1N 維尼

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