1
Never a Fool In Love
Once upon a lifetime ago, Sheba Munene witnessed the undying love of her parents.
It thrived in their quiet devotion, the shared passion, and carefree laughter.
They proved that their vows, ‘in sickness and in health, in good times and bad,’ were closely held.
They weathered miscarriages, political firestorms, and a final battle with cancer without resentment or the need for applause.
Theirs was a bone-deep loyalty, a commitment lived out daily in giving of themselves to each other.
Sheba craved that substance for herself, dreaming of an everlasting love with the same fire and dedication.
Instead, she became a magnet for men who vanished the moment the fairytale hit the skids.
She attracted narcissists who lacked the stomach for the unglamorous work real love demanded.
They expected perfection from her while offering nothing but empty gestures in return.
A sucker for romance, she yearned for a connection deeper than a virtual holo series, the kind that wasn’t ‘pretty’ but endured without entitlement or selfishness.
She prayed for it daily, yet life only offered her endless disappointment.
She was tired of the loneliness and the dark, and she often wondered when the dawn of her real, enduring ‘ever after’ would finally rise.
What she never imagined was that when the universe listened, it would tear her world apart to give her what she asked for.
‘We’re done.’
The words echoed in the perfumed air of the sumptuous glass-walled hotel suite.
Outside, silver rays from the twin moons of Zanyria danced over the inviting surf.
Sheba stood by the window, her skin flushed and her heart fracturing as months of suspicion finally solidified into three ugly truths.
Her boyfriend was a bitch-ass douche clown scumbag.
Her first romantic getaway and intimate tryst in years was a disaster.
Her only option was to escape being trapped in a luxury hotel with a creep.
She shifted her gaze to Leon, who lay sprawled on the couch, a sardonic glint in his eye and a beer in one hand.
It freakin’ enraged her to look at him, but for a second, she appreciated his beauty.
He was a masterpiece of manufactured charm: dark curly hair styled to the millimeter, a perfect beard, and teeth that flashed a blinding, artificial white.
He spent hours in the gym building a frame that strained against clothes far too expensive for a man with an intergalactic courier job.
She also swore he’d recently had some bio-modding done, reforming his jawline and narrowing his nose.
The result was a version of handsomeness that rang hollow, a symmetrical lie carved into his skin.
What had she seen in him?
His good looks and sweet, raspy nothings had so overwhelmed her that she never questioned what lay behind them.
