The bus hissed to a stop, and students began stepping out in small groups, stretching and murmuring as the cool air greeted them. A few girls stood nearby, clustered beside their luggage, idly chatting and watching the last people step off the bus.
Jennifer and Kevin were among the last.
He stepped down first, then turned around and offered his hand to her. Silent, steady. She looked at it for a moment, then placed her hand in his.
He helped her down gently.
One of the girls near the front gasped softly, nudging the other with her elbow.
"Wow...what a gentleman."
Another let out a playful sigh.
"She is so lucky. I wish he was mine."
A couple more giggled behind their hands, their voices not all quiet.
Jennifer quickly let go of Kevin's hand and looked away, her cheeks warming. Kevin said nothing, only slipped his hands back into his pockets and walked ahead without looking back.
...
The students had started to assemble in a wide clearing near the base of the hill, backpacks slung over shoulders and water bottles in hand. Teachers stood a short distance away, checking clipboards and waiting to give instructions.
Kevin walked ahead, a quiet confidence in his steps. Jennifer followed just behind, the echo of her shoes tapping slightly out of sync with his.
As they approached the crowd, something strange happened.
A subtle shift in movement.
The students from St. Andrew's and St. Peter's-boys-parted quietly, stepping aside without being told. No teasing. No jostling. Just...silence. Heads turned. A few exchanged glances. The atmosphere thickened like mist.
Kevin didn't seem to notice-or maybe he did. A small smile curled on his face, calm and unreadable, as she realized what was happening.
They were clearing a path.
She heard someone muttering and laughing as they passed by.
"Damn...who is that guy?" one of the boys asked, half stunned.
"St. Andrew's student's president," another replied quickly. "Top in Physics, star in football...most liked by teachers too."
"Tsk. Most of the girls like him. He's their favorite crush," another voice joined, low but clear.
A chuckle.
"We need to check our girls, man."
Then a final voice-quieter, amused-said,
"Still...seems like he's got good taste in girls."
Jennifer said nothing.
She kept walking.
But her mind was somewhere else.
She wasn't ready-not for this. Not for Kevin's attention, not for whatever promise he was still clinging to.
Her thoughts kept circling back to that hidden clearing behind the plaza in Nairobi National Park-quiet, secluded. Kevin being blamed for inappropriate behavior near a school event, dragged to his teacher to be punished.
That humiliation. And all of it... because of her.
She hadn't said sorry. Not really. And now, walking beside him again, just a few feet away felt too soon-too raw.
But she couldn't say no to him.
Not with the way everyone looked at him.
Not with the way the girls whispered-"I wish he was mine."
Not with the weight of eyes, approval, and the pressure to fit into something she never chose.
So, she didn't fight it.
She just went along, quietly-her silence not a yes, but something that looked close enough.
...
The students had finally settled into the open clearing at the base of the hill, forming scattered lines around the crowd. Kevin and Jennifer stood near the front, the last to arrive. A murmur of excitement passed through the groups as a woman in a khaki jacket stepped forward with a welcoming smile.
"I'm Madam Leah," she announced, holding up a map as a soft breeze lifted the corners.
I'll be your guide today. We're heading up Ngong Hills, and along the way, you'll encounter valleys, ridges, wind turbines, and old colonial trails. Keep your eyes open-Ngong is full of stories."
As she moved aside, a tall man in glasses stepped forward. He wore a striped shirt tucked too neatly into his brown trousers and carried a clipboard under his arm. "Before you all scatter into adventure," he said with a crisp voice, "Let me address my geography students from St. Peter's. A few students sat straighter, recognizing their teacher-Mr. Kilonzo, known for his strict field assessments.
"I expect observations. Terrain sketches. You know the drill. But this goes for the rest of you too," he added, glancing at other schools nearby. "Our Lady of Fatima and yes, even St. Andrew's. This isn't just outing. I'll be discussing with your teachers-those with clear notes and effort will submit a short field report back at school."
A low groan swept through the students, but the seriousness in his tone made it clear-St. Peter's didn't come to play. "Some of you came to take selfies," Mr. Kilonzo added, adjusting his glasses. "But let's make sure you also take something back in your mind."
Just as the guide prepared to lead the way, another teacher stepped forward. He raised a hand, clearing his throat. "Ah, one more reminder," he said, his voice a bit more cautious. "Following a concern raised after our last trip...students are expected to stay strictly within their designated groups. No one is allowed to wander off or explore unmarked paths. You'll move as instructed, and always remain where the guide can see you."
There was a ripple through the crowd-some exchanged curious glances, others just nodded.
Jennifer blinked slowly.
She didn't need to ask. Kevin's sideways glance already said enough. She met his eyes for only a second before looking away, the memory settling in like a quiet weight in her chest. Not again. That one moment from before-reckless, almost naive-had left more damage than she'd expected.
And then her eyes drifted across the crowd.
There she was.
Miss Emily.
Standing near the chaperones, scarf wrapped neatly around her neck, watching. Not glaring. Not smiling. Just...watching. Not the crowd. Not the group.
Watching them.
Jennifer looked away quickly, but the image of her teacher's unreadable expression clung to her like dust on wet skin.
For a moment, Jennifer exhaled quietly.
She hadn't realized how much tension she had been holding-until the teacher's announcement, from now on, students were forbidden from moving alone or going anywhere without a guide.
Somehow...that brought her a small sense of relief.
She wasn't ready for Kevin keeping her promise.
The line of students began to shift as the guide stepped forward.
"We'll be covering the lower ridges of Ngong Hills, so please stay with your groups, take care of your belongings and stay hydrated.
Students began filing into the path-some chatting, some taking selfies, some just silent.
Kevin walked beside Jennifer again.
He tapped her gently on the shoulder and pointed to the large bottle peeking from her side pocket.
"This big bottle..." he smiled. "Can I help you with it?"
Jennifer glanced at him, then at the bottle.
She hesitated for a second and handed it over without a word.
The weight gone from her side, she kept walking.
"I can help with your bag too, if you want."
She took her head. "No. The bag is fine."
Kevin didn't push. Just walked beside her in silence.
Ahead, Miss Leah was talking about the history of the ridges, how the hills had once been sacred grazing grounds, and the way the wind shaped the land. Her voice faded into the background.
Because that's when Jennifer saw her.
Miss Emily.
She was walking slightly ahead with the teachers. Her scarf soft rust in color today, her face calm-too calm.
Their eyes met for the briefest moment.
Jennifer looked away immediately.
Her heart thudded quietly against her chest. Her steps slowed-just for a second-before she picked up pace again.
Why was she looking at her like that?
...
The soil grew drier with every step. Loose gravel scattered beneath their shoes. Students ahead began to huff, hands gripping their thighs for support as they climbed.
Ngong's ridges stretched like sleeping backs beneath the sky-gentle from afar, but sharp beneath tired feet.
Jennifer adjusted her footing, but the edge of her boot slipped against a patch of fine dust. Her knee buckled. The sudden shift pulled her forward-and she slid.
Her foot hit a rock.
Her palms scraped against the ground.
And before she could fully catch herself-hands caught her.
Strong and firm.
Familiar.
She froze.
There was a sudden stillness in the air, a hush in the crowd above. The crunching of students climbing slowed.
Jennifer remained still-half-fallen, one leg folded awkwardly.
The first thing she noticed was the scent.
Lavender.
Warm and distinct.
She opened her eyes.
Miss Emily.
Jennifer was now slightly above her-Miss Emily crouched low on the slope, one arm wrapped across Jennifer's back, the other steadying her wrist. Their bodies close. Too close.
Dust rose around them in the breeze. Somewhere above, students paused, whispering. Footsteps slowed. A few glanced down the slope. Teachers below raised their eyes briefly.
But the world felt narrowed.
Just the scent of the lavender. Just that moment.
Miss Emily's fingers didn't let go immediately.
Jennifer's heart kicked against her ribs, breath caught in her throat.
They didn't speak.
Not yet.
Because their eyes were locked-and neither of them seemed ready to move.