Jasmine’s POV
“Gosh, is your brother as protective as mine? I’m not tripping, right? His behaviour is uncalled for.” Arya rambles on as I drive us to our destination. Aroni is quite protective, although he is the middle child and the only boy; I think that plays a role in how he goes about his protectiveness.
“I think he is just trying to look out for you.” I softly say.
She snorts, “Duh, but there should be a limit to everything.”
Silence takes over for some time; I glance at her from the corner of my eye before bringing my attention back to the road. If it were possible, smoke would probably be visible because of how deep in thought she is.
“Is everything alright?” My brows furrow as I take a left, then a right turn.
She lets out a low sigh. “I’m just worried my brother will make it difficult for whoever I end up marrying.”
A light chuckle escapes me. “Well, that is half true, but I doubt he would be such a pain to whoever it is. Maybe in the beginning, but eventually he would loosen up, especially if he trusts him.” Laurent isn’t the easiest to deal with, and growing up around him, I’ve seen it firsthand on various occasions. I fight the urge to cringe at the memory that pops up.
“Exactly my point. You know how high his expectations are, almost making it impossible to trust despite the person proving they are trustworthy.”
“Yeah… you’ve got a point there.” A brief silence fills the tense atmosphere. “Well, you could just marry Justin, considering he’s already won him over and the fam,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Arya bursts out into laughter, a tinge of disbelief lacing her voice. “Sureee.” I can’t help but laugh too. “Anyway, speaking of relationships, has Mikiah reached out yet?”
I hum a no, shaking my head. “The last time we spoke or saw one another was when he came over to fetch the file.”
“Oh okay—so what would you say?” Her pitch goes a bit higher as she abruptly shifts her body to face me, as much as the seat belt allows.
“Huh? Say what?” My words drag off, unsure where she was going with this conversation.
“Well, if he asks you out? Heck, even proposes!”
“Girl, woah. You’re taking a whole leap there. I’m pretty sure getting to know one another comes first before the proposal.”
She shrugs. “Knowing the kind of man Mikiah is, I wouldn’t be surprised. You just got to stay prepared.”
“Girl, stop, you’re putting unwanted ideas into my head.” I pretend to shiver, which she giggles at.
She softly punches me in the arm. “Hey, do you want us to die here?”
“You’re such a drama queen, actually.” She playfully rolls her eyes at me, and I squint my eyes at her before looking back at the road. “But all jokes aside, Mikiah isn’t bad, hey.”
“Yeah…but being a good person and a potential good husband are two different things,” I mumble. My parents’ love story is a great reminder of that. The mood in the car shifts instantly. I know Arya doesn’t mean any harm, but I find it difficult to pretend that the thought doesn’t affect me. So I allow the silence to settle between us for the remainder of the short drive.
Just as we arrive, Justin and Nick are getting out of the car. My eyes snag on Nick before I can stop them. He has on green cargo pants and a black t-shirt with some white writing on it that I can’t read from this distance.
Jasmine, what was that?
I immediately look away.
“Oh, we made it in time with them?” Arya’s mouth twitches with a suppressed yawn.
“One would think you just woke up from a long sleep.” My eyes crinkle at the sight.
“It sure felt like that though.” She stretches slowly, then collapses back into the seat.
“Come on, we need to get going,” I say, taking a once-over in the vanity mirror before spraying on a bit more perfume and mouth freshener.
“Give me a minute.” She holds up a finger, closing her eyes.
“Okay…” The kids probably had her up all night. “I’ll join them so they can know we’ve already made it.” She nods in response, eyes still closed. “The keys are here; don’t forget to lock.” I glance at her once more before exiting the car. I wait to see if she locks it. “Someone could have endangered you by now,” I mutter.
“Sorry, retake.”
I shut the door, then attempt to open it. Satisfied, I stroll over to the guys, adjusting my jacket as the wind passes.
“Hey,” Nick greets, offering a slight wave as he spots me first. Justin’s head shoots up, his eyes searching my surroundings before he greets me too.
“Arya?”
“She’s in the car; she’ll be out soon.”
“Is she okay?” His brows draw together as his gaze flickers over to the car.
“Yeah, she is.”
“Okay then, let me go check up on her.”
“Ok—” I barely finish before he’s striding to my car. I tilt my head, processing what just happened.
“How are you?” Nick asks in a calm and measured tone. His hazel eyes naturally draw one’s focus, especially considering how the sun lights them up. I won’t lie, Nick is a pretty good-looking man—more than just pretty good.
“Oh, I’m good, thank you. How are you?” I slip my hands into my jacket’s pockets, feeling the chill of the weather.
“I’m good, I’m good. Thank you.”
“It’s quite cold today,” I say.
“Yes.” I quirk up a brow, considering how he’s not properly covered. “Ahh, it’s in the car in case I need it. I’ll easily warm up due to the movements.”
“Oh okay.” Silence fills the space for a bit, my shoulders stiffen, and my hands sink deeper into my pockets as the wind blows.
“I think we should head inside.”
“The others—” I cut myself off when he jerks his head behind me. Swiftly looking over my shoulder, I see Justin and Arya are now approaching us.
“Enjoyed your rest?” I whisper to Arya, leaning in to her side, as we walk behind the guys.
“Ouff yeah, needed it.”
“You seem extremely tired. Do you think you have enough energy for today?”
“Don’t worry, I’m all good now. Guess this time I’m the one needing much rest.”
My ears perk up. I breathe out an awkward laugh as I study her face, though she’s in her own world. I must have done a good job at hiding the dark circles.
“I think you guys can wait here while I go make the payment?” Justin suggests coming to a stop by the waiting area, which is packed—people gathered in different sizes of groups chitchatting as they wait.
We nod our heads in agreement.
“Have you guys decided which team to be on? Are we sticking to girls against boys?”
I chuckle. “You guys already assumed that we would be in a team?” I raise an eyebrow at Nick, which he responds to by shrugging one shoulder lazily… “We can mix it up?” I look at Arya.
“Fine with me.”
“Okay then, let’s wait for Justin, then we’ll conclude on who’s teaming up with who,” Nick states.
“Cool,” Arya and I chorus.
“By the way, are you going to watch the football tournament?” Arya questions Nick.
“Yeah, Justin is back on. Will need to be there.” Justin had been on a break from playing, as he wanted to focus more on his studies. Not that he wasn’t an A student, though one could assume he isn’t due to how he sometimes behaves.
“Yep, his first match after a long while…”
“Will you be attending?” Nick directs his attention to me.
“Unfortunately, no.” The game fell on the day that my mother was flying in with some partners, and I have to be present to ensure everything went well. Though I did ask our helper, who usually only works twice a week, to work for an extra two days in case extra help was required.
Arya huffs out a sad sigh, staring at the floor. “You’ll be greatly missed.”
I nudge her playfully. “I’ll miss you too. Although, I’ll need to make it up to Justin.”
“What about me?” Justin cuts in absentmindedly, joining us. In his left hand, he holds white and blue paper wristbands and a receipt, whilst in his right hand his phone, which he is staring at, his gaze faltering—he blinks then looks up at us.
“Nothing really, we were just speaking about your game.”
“The one you can’t attend.” He hits his fist against his heart, his face crunching in disappointment.
“Justin.” I pout. “You know I would certainly be present if I could. Also, I already told you I’ll make it up to you.”
Justin chuckles. “You’re so cute. I understand, just playing with you.”
“I’m convinced you enjoy putting me on the hot seat.”
“Not my fault you so easily fall for it. How many years have you known me?” He begins to count his fingers.
“Okay, okay!” I lean over, swatting my hands over his, which he laughs at. “No need to display how gullible I can be.”
Nick and Arya laugh at my situation. My eyes clash with Nick’s, whose dance with amusement—my ears heat up. I clear my throat, breaking eye contact. “Shouldn’t we be deciding on the teams?”
Justin throws me a cheeky smile before getting serious. “We’ll be merging with another group; however, we need to pick a team colour.”
“We opted to mix it up,” I inform him.
“Well, that’s easy; you both basically came matching. I think you two can team up? And I’ll be with Arya?”
My eyes sweep over Nick’s outfit, and I realise we are indeed matching. “That’s fine with me. What do you think?” I ask Nick.
“Sure.”
“Okay, now that that is sorted. Pick which colour you guys are wearing, and we’ll need to join that large group of people.” Justin points to a group behind me, largely dominated by men probably around our age, although there are a few women too.
After putting on our wristbands, we made our way to them. A few heads turn to us as we approach, and I avoid holding eye contact. Arya puts her arm through mine, as the guys are engrossed in their own conversation, which I stopped paying attention to.
“Won’t lie, our team seems to be mostly athletic people,” Arya mumbles.
I hum, nodding as I sweep those wearing green wristbands.
“Sup, dude. You’re joining us?” An average-height, white man greets Justin, who offers a handshake. He then greets Nick and gives a brief nod at us, which we return.
“Sup, yes. When is the game starting?”
“In a few minutes, but you guys can collect your gear from the woman standing there.” He jerks his head towards a woman wearing glasses and a work uniform.
“Okay, thanks, man.” The man gives him a thumbs up, then returns to the people he was talking to.
“Arya, I think you are tightening it the wrong way,” I complain, as we fail once again to close my vest gear.
“I think it’s broken…”
“I think so too. Excuse me, Ma’am, could I get another vest? This one isn’t closing.”
“Let me try closing it; if it doesn’t work, I’ll give you another one.”
After she failed to close it too, I am handed another piece. “Sorry about that,” I say to Arya, as we fasten our steps to meet the group.
“Apology accepted.” She beams at me, and I pull her into a bear hug.
“Good day, everyone. I’m Frank. I hope you are all doing okay. We will be starting in about ten minutes, but for now I’ll just be going through some rules.” A middle-aged brown-skinned man introduces himself. Arya rests her head onto my arm as he begins to go through the list of rules. The next twenty minutes go by quickly, and we are on the field.
“Just to make it clear, we aren’t friends on this battleground. So no hard feelings,” Justin raises his hands and smirks.
Arya high-fives him, and they crack up in unison. Nick and I shake our heads.
“See y’all later.” I throw over my shoulder as we go our separate ways.
A bullet is fired, which I successfully dodge as soon as the siren goes off. Nick and I look at one another, then at the paint that is now smudged on the tree. More bullets are fired, and I run into hiding. I squeeze myself in between two tanks, searching for the culprit.
“Bingo.” Ducking inside a bush as she scans the area, I seize the opportunity and take my shot, which perfectly lands on her. “That was a good one.” I admire my handiwork, seeing how the paint splatters on her gun. I fire two more, and I muffle the laugh that wants to come out when she raises her hands up in frustration and makes her way out since she’s been eliminated. The first half of the game goes by smoother than I expected, only having about two close calls.
“You haven’t been eliminated.” Nick dabs me up as I join the group of players reloading their paint and air tanks.
“Yep,” I proudly say, popping the p.
─ ✦ ❘ ✧ ❘ ✦ ─
“Watch out,” Nick whisper-yells, swiftly running over to me. He grabs my hand and pulls me away from whoever’s line of fire we were in. A couple of bullets fly around, but it wouldn’t be easy for whoever it is to reach us.
“Okay, that kind of hurt,” I grunt. We both landed on the ground, lying side by side. “Are you alive there?”
“I’m—alright.” He croaks out after a second of silence. While trying to save me, he had taken a bad fall when he used his body to break mine.
After some time of staying in place, I try to push myself off the ground, but fail. Sitting up, I notice that our hands have been clasped together.
For a second, I simply stare.
When did that happen?
“Sorry,” I frantically say, immediately letting go of his hand and looking at the opposite side. Not receiving any response from him, I slowly peer over to him. My eyes narrow slightly as I try to figure out why he is still lying on the floor, eyes closed. I wait a few seconds before leaning forward. There’s no way he is unconscious, right? As much as I want to believe so, I can’t shake the worry that begins to seep in.
I lean in further. My head is practically a few inches away from his.
He hisses at my movement. “What are you doing?” He slowly opens his eyes and stares right into mine. I swiftly pull backwards, my forehead creases, a small ripple of surprise smoothing out.
“I thought you might have been unconscious or something.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Um, I can clearly see that.” I try hard to pinch down the sarcasm in my reply, which I fail at because he glowers at me. I shoot him a superficial smile, which only makes him glower harder, so I drop the act.
He forces himself up, using one hand. I raise a brow as I study him. His shoulder seems to be locked in place. “Why are you doing that?”
“Maybe—I’ve hurt myself?” He responds sweetly. Overly sweet, might I say. I fight the urge to retort and walk to him.
“I think you may have dislocated your shoulder.”
“I don’t think so. It’s not that bad; I should be okay in a bit.” He abruptly shifts his shoulder into place. “All good.”
Rustling stops us from saying anything more. Nick jerks his head to his left before silently stepping in that direction. I follow suit. I tap him, signalling for him to crouch down so the stacked-up tyres and huge tank cover most of our bodies from the intruder’s sight.
“I’m going to go for it,” I whisper, although not waiting for his response because as soon as the opposition is in my focus, I pull the trigger to his chest.
“And that makes the white team the winners.” A woman cheers on the intercom, which is soon followed by uproars from our teammates.
“Well done.” Nick offers, his tone warm and open. I tilt my head up; a proud smile spreads across his face.
“Thank you,” I practically glow through my voice.
Gosh, why does my chest feel so tight?
Nicodème’s POV
I had tried to ignore it for the past few weeks.
But now, the certainty settles too deeply to dismiss—feeling impossible to argue with.
She is the one.
━━━━━━━♡❘★❘♡━━━━━━━
© 2026 Emmanuelle Ngoie. All rights reserved. The Crying Girl is an original work. No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, or distributed without permission.
