Geneva welcomed Zaria with crisp air and quiet elegance.
Snow kissed the rooftops like powdered sugar, and the city sparkled beneath a sky that never seemed to sleep. Zaria had never seen snow before. The first morning, she stood by the window, watching flakes fall like blessings from a new world.
She had arrived.
A penthouse suite in a corporate apartment block had been arranged for her—modest by billionaire standards, but warm, serene, and safe.
Darius had flown in with her, setting up a temporary base to work remotely while staying close. He insisted on doing the grocery runs, navigating the French menus with a mixture of confidence and Google Translate.
And for the first few weeks, everything seemed perfect.
Her belly grew rounder by the day. Her mornings were filled with leadership sessions, global think tanks, and coaching from CEOs who ran entire continents. Her evenings were for Darius—and for the baby. Long walks beside the lake, soft music, warm baths, and gentle laughter.
It felt like the future had finally opened its arms to her.
Until the knock came.
It was early evening, and Darius was out picking up supper. Zaria had just finished her call with the fellowship coordinator when she heard it.
A soft but firm knock.
She opened the door slowly, not expecting anyone.
And there he stood.
Tari.
The boy from the village who once gave her mangoes under the baobab tree.
Only he wasn't a boy anymore.
He wore a grey coat over a black turtleneck, and his dreadlocks were shorter now—clean-cut, trimmed, but familiar.
For a second, Zaria didn't breathe.
"Tari?" she whispered.
"Hi, Zed," he said gently. "It's been a while."
Her knees nearly gave out.
They sat in the living room, a pot of tea steaming between them. Her hands trembled as she poured.
"I thought you were in Canada," she said.
"I was. Finished school. Then got a research grant that brought me here last year. I heard about your story. The news. Everything. I didn't believe it at first. But then…" He looked at her with soft pride. "You did it, Zed. You really did."
She blinked back tears. "You were the first one who ever believed I could."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe. But you believed it more."
There was a silence between them. Heavy. Old. Comforting.
Then he looked at her belly.
"You're…?"
"Seven months."
"Wow."
More silence.
"You look good," he said at last.
"I feel… tired. But good."
Then he leaned forward, his eyes more serious.
"I didn't come to cause confusion. I just wanted to say… I'm proud of you. And I'm sorry I disappeared."
"You had your path," she said. "And I had mine."
"But we were supposed to have one together, remember?"
Her heart squeezed.
A part of her had imagined this moment. Wondered if she'd ever see him again. If the boy who once knew her before the scars would recognise the woman she had become.
He did.
But she was no longer the girl who needed that recognition.
Zaria stood up slowly, holding her bump as she walked to the window.
"I loved you once," she said. "But that love belonged to a girl who thought survival was the same thing as destiny."
"And now?"
"Now… I've found a love that meets me where I am. That stays, even in storms. That grows with me."
Behind her, Tari stood too.
He nodded. "Then I'm happy for you."
She turned back, her eyes misty. "Thank you for coming. And for reminding me how far I've come."
He smiled again. "Go change the world, Zed."
And just like that, he left.
No drama. No begging. Just closure.
That night, Darius returned to find her quiet, curled up on the couch.
"Everything okay?"
She nodded and leaned into him.
"Someone from my past came to say goodbye."
Darius wrapped his arm around her. "Then the future just got lighter."
And outside, snow fell again.
Soft.
Gentle.
Freeing.