I arrived at the Annual Presidential Ball at around 7pm. Everyone else was already seated and the dinner had commenced. I skipped the red carpet because I wanted little or no recognition in the tabloids. I had only one agenda to fulfil and as soon as I was done, I would leave.

Kyle had instructed his chauffeur to pick me up. With a ready assembled outfit as usual.
He always sent me what to wear any time we planned to meet at sophisticated events. Also, he generally loved showering me with gifts.
I’m not quite sure if it was my attire he abhorred or the latter, but I never asked.

By 6pm that evening, I was enroute to The State House, which was the venue for this ball.
I know I never learn. But this time I needed to reconcile with him. I needed it all to auger well with my soul, plus he was a walking time bomb. I believe he was approaching his final stages of AIDS. But he was a strong man, a strong man who I loved still. A strong man who worshipped the ground I walked on, and so, naturally, I was his plus one for the night.

I took my phone to check if Mark had tried to call me. Nothing.
I checked my messages. Nothing. This man!
I called him but it went straight to voicemail. I left him a message saying that I missed him and that I loved him. I told him I had gone out and thus would be getting very drunk.
I told him that I was aware he was ignoring me, but I would still text him each hour as well as attempt to call him.
Mark hadn’t come home for a week now. But I could see on his social media that he was having fun. All that I needed to know was that he was alive.

It had been well over two years since I had seen Kyle. Since our little situation with Mark in the private alley when he found us engaging in some fleshy action. Mark was his best friend. I had betrayed him. But here I was, conforming to his invites, again.

The hall was magnificent. I was in the presence of dignitaries and the ‘have it alls’ of the country. Models, celebrities, the elite. Kyle had in vain tried to make me get accustomed to this life, but I was contented with my not-so-glamorous life.
It had been a rough five years since the first time I laid my eyes on Kyle and on this night, as he was walking towards me, I started reminiscing.
It all quickly flashed before my eyes, the trips abroad, the love he showed me, the way he still opened doors,pulled chairs and introduced me as his wife.

And the night Olive had us at gun point. The night she blew her brains out in close range. How could I forget that night. The night my heart was shattered into myriads of pieces. The first time Kyle had made sweet love to me. The night I found out he was HIV positive.

He was definitely looking sickly. A frame of what he used to be. A caricature of the Kyle I once knew. My Kyle.
Damn, money makes people look good though. Other than the weight loss, this man was still sharper than any man in sight.

“Hey, are you okay?” He beckoned.
I immediately snapped out of my stupor as he led me to our seats.
‘You look as beautiful as I could ever imagine. I had missed you my love…”

My love? I couldn’t speak. I was so overwhelmed with emotion.

He was in a red coat. His outfit complimented mine as I was in black with a red lip.
Elegance.
He always had his suits custom made. I could go on, but Kyle was looking very good.
His cologne wafted and lingered. I had missed him.

After the meal and speeches, the ball was set rolling and masqueraded couples were poured onto the open space for the routine fox trot and waltz.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked me, holding his hand out, expecting me to hold it in return.

“Wait, Kyle, we need to talk. I need to apologise for what I did. I need to explain to you what happened between Mark and I, you need to know why I left you…”
He hushed me. Signaling that it was okay. That he didn’t need to hear about Mark.

No. This is not how it was supposed to go. He needed to know. I was only here to talk and leave. I reckoned that since he had reached out, I owed it to him to be there.

I agreed.

We walked over to where people were dancing and we began. I was familiar with these routines. A fox trot ensued.

“Baby, the day you walked out of my life, you killed me. But I’m glad you came today. I was afraid you wouldn’t as you have religiously been ignoring my advances. I was praying you would come.” He continued. “I wanted to let you know that you are in my will. All of my fortune is in your name. Everything!”
I gasped, “what?”… He hushed me again.

“Darling I just need you to listen. You and my sons are my sole heirs. We both know that my time here is limited and if you cannot be with me forever, then I need you to be with my sons. I love you. I forgive you.”

This wasn’t the time to be giving me such revelations.
My mind was in turmoil. And just then, Mark’s message came through. I was holding my phone so reflexively, I checked to read.

I’m at a party in Kitengela. At the Jansen mansion. Come if you want us to talk.

A clear finality in the text. No enthusiasm whatsoever. All from the man I married.

Kyle saw it. But he didn’t care. He calmly asked me to put my phone away and almost instantly started to go down on one knee. An egocentric smirk on his face almost as if to laugh at the mere thought that I could actually go to my jobless husband and leave him.

My chest!

No. Don’t do this Kyle. Don’t.
The band stopped. The crowd dispersed. The spotlight was turned on us.

“All I’ve told you is on one condition. You denounce your affiliations to that bastard Mark, you take this ring and become my wife and hence the rightful owner of my estate. So what do you say?”

And my phone started buzzing. It was Mark calling.

Mark and I had been encountering problems in our marriage.
Soon after I gave birth, he was already seeing other women. He was over indulging in promiscuity and drugs. He had recently lost his job and our lives were crumbling.
The financial strain was getting to us.

Mark would never afford or rather offer me such a ring.
We had a lavish life. But not half as classy as the one Kyle was offering me.

I was trying so hard to salvage him. I was trying to save our marriage and look past all the dishonour but here was Kyle, offering me a second chance at life on a silver platter. I was conflicted.

I was battling with logic and rationalism. Love or wealth?

My phone buzzed again.

“Robin, will you marry me?”

Utter silence except for the buzzing of my phone and the loud piercing glares from the now eager AF audience.

Was I going to say no to this man in front of all these people?
On national TV? In the presence of the president? Nah fam. I’m savage, but I’m not stupid.

Ok wait, I’m stupid. I forgot the press was here.
There goes my discretion. So much for avoiding the red carpet.
Oh shit. Mark?

No. He possibly couldn’t be watching the telly at a party. Or could he?
Naaah. People don’t watch the TV at parties. Plus I had my masquerade mask on.

He signaled for the mic to be handed over to him.

“Robin, my love. Will you marry me?”

Yeah. Bastard had to call out my name. Way to go Kyle! Way to go!! -_-

As if I hadn’t heard him the first a thousand times pre-mic.

That ring was the most beautiful thing I had laid my eyes on.

I just stood there.
My phone buzzed again.
It was Mark.

Intuition?

Yeah. Coincidence maybe.
I don’t think I’d sense if a bitch was somewhere proposing to my man.

I picked the call.