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continuation of chapter one. He took a hasty glimpse at his watch to re-affirm the time, as they had made the appointment for three o’clock, and it was still five minutes to three. For someone who always arrived on dates thirty minutes late for the seven years, they were a couple. Something was off-base. ‘You’ve been here a while,’ he uttered, as he looked at the pet bottle on the table with its contents past the middle point. ‘Not so much,’ she responded, her eyes looking weary and edgy. ‘I’m here, that is what’s vital.’ ‘Babe, what ensued us?’ He asked, disregarding the antipathy in her voice. Susan remained silent; however, the look in her eyes slackens as she listened to him remind her of their beautiful plans together. He closed her hands in his, and although she made to take them out, he hung tight, substantially more with the plea in his eyes, than with the grip of his fingers. With their eyes still locked, he went down on his knees, not fretted over other customers, some of whom had just directed their concentration toward him. ‘Please darling, don’t watch our whims flame out this way. Our love is special; how about we battle to keep it?’ He inquired. ‘I can’t envisage my survival without you; I would prefer even not to envision my existence without…’ ‘I’m pregnant,’ her voice cut into his gaiety. It was her first words in over fifteen minutes, and the news that would have gradually made him anxious offered a ray of hope. ‘Is that what this is about?’ He asked, his eyes lighting up. ‘I know we planned for it differently, but who says we can’t get connubial here and now?’ He queried, his eyes searching into Susan’s finding answers to his inquiries. ‘I know there are things that we planned to do before getting married and having kids. Breaking up wasn’t the solution because you’re pregnant,’ he continued, ‘We ought to search for neonate names now,’ he ridiculed, at-tempting to make an expression before he chortles however the eyes that goggled back at him was as cold as ice, an assertion that his joke was dry. ‘You’re not responsible.’ ‘What?’ He huffed, stifling on his salivation. ‘After courting for seven years, you just discovered I’m not responsible? Is that what your family thinks of me?’ He asked, his face receiving his shock. ‘I met you in my second year in school, I have stayed un-swerving with our love, I have a job, and I’m waged very hard for our future together, how responsible do you want me to get? Tell me, and I’d learn.’ Susan hauled her hands out of his as he waited for wisecracks to his inquiries. ‘You’re not responsible for the pregnancy,’ she muffled, blurry to on-lookers but boisterous enough to jolt him out of his apathy, up from his knees and seated on his chair. Sam is. The latter two words stroked like an uppercut that connected sweetly to his jaws, as his mouth hung agape in great shock, stunned at the news that his sweetheart of seven years was pregnant for his beloved companion. ‘Life,’ Daniel garbled as he roused himself from his dreams. It could be a pot of singed beans every so often. His gastrointestinal blemished in hunger as beans helped him remember lunch. He ended up salivating, as pictures of beans embellished with cleaved bits of dry fish, coordinated with cut parched plantain and outdid with speckled kachumbari, played up in his psyche. His deliberations had not prejudiced his hunger at all as he soared from his seat like a man awestruck by his vision, checked to ensure his drawer secured and made for kibanda not far off.