Nicodème’s POV
“Aroni, you know my visa hasn’t been approved yet, and it has been years. Maybe it’s not meant to be, well, maybe for now at least,” she responds to the caller, shifting onto her other leg. “Also, Mom isn’t that bad,” she utters, but her face says otherwise. “I’ll manage, don’t worry,” she assures the caller.
I’m not the type to eavesdrop, but hearing Jasmine talk about her visa stopped me in my tracks. “Is Jasmine planning on leaving anytime soon?” The question sits heavier than it should. I snap out of my thoughts, retreating in the opposite direction of the veranda.
─ ✦ ❘ ✧ ❘ ✦ ─
Luckily, one of Anne’s husband’s friends has experience with DJing and volunteered to do so for the event. I stood next to him, chatting as I occasionally observed the scene, assuring myself nothing was off. Maya walks in with her arms crossed and a pout. Jasmine comes in soon after. She bends down to meet Maya’s height, says something to her, then raises her hands to the corners of her mouth, lightly pulling them into a smile. My lips quirk upward. Maya resists for a bit before bursting into laughter. She hurriedly pulls her into a hug, then runs off to her friends.
Jasmine briefly laughs before getting up. She now wears a sleeveless black glittering jumpsuit that fits her frame perfectly, her hair styled in a natural updo. Feeling Jack’s eyes on me, I avert my gaze to the dance floor.
“I must say, you have successfully kept them dancing; they will for sure be knocked out as soon as the party ends.”
Jack laughs, shaking his head.
“Keen on letting me in on the joke?” A familiar velvety voice with a touch of huskiness inquires. A pleasant anticipation settles in my chest, a reaction I don’t bother pursuing.
“Nicodème was saying that with all the dancing the kids did, they will be asleep as soon as it ends.”
She laughs, her head tilting up a bit as her eyes close for a brief moment.
“Nick is definitely thrilled about that. Lately, the kids have been glued to him. He hardly gets alone time.”
“Not that I have any issue with that,” I interject, raising a finger slightly.
“Yes, he does not.” She muses, her eyes crinkling at the sides, before diverting her gaze to Jack.
Jack’s eyes linger on her longer than they should. I bring my hand to the back of my neck. “I’m going to grab a drink.”
“Sure thing.” He nods.
“Same here—and some food. Just realised I haven’t eaten anything yet,” Jasmine says, before following suit.
“Continue the great work, Jack.” She gives him two thumbs up over her shoulder.
My steps quicken, needing to down a drink as soon as possible.
“Orange or apple?” I present the options, seeing that these are the only flavours left on this particular table. “Or I could check what’s left on the other table?” I jerk my head toward it.
She waves it off. “Nah, apple will do. Thank you.” She takes the drink from my outstretched hand.
Silence envelops us as we both take sips, watching the dance floor. Not awkward—just full. Ray has decided to grace everyone with his “awesome moves”—not my words, but his—as he insisted that the mosh pit should pay close attention.
“Go, Ray!” Jasmine hollers, fist pumping the air—gaining a smirk from the young boy. Most likely giving his ego an extra pump, I chuckle faintly at the thought.
Her gaze lingers on me. “So, who is Nicodème?”
“Who is Nicodème? That’s an interesting way to phrase your curiosity.” She raises a brow.
“I mean—interesting way to ask about me.” I lift a shoulder.
She smirks, her shoulders shaking, clearly trying hard to hide her amusement. “Yeah, got you the first time.” She brushes the air between us after collecting herself.
“So…?”
“Right,” I exhale. “Nicodème’s a hardworking man.”
I pause. “He wants a simple life. Life has a funny way of reminding him otherwise.” I tilt the cup toward my lips.
“Interesting,” she mumbles. “Anything else? Hobbies?”
“Reading. Travelling, mostly.”
“That’s cool. What’s been your favourite place to visit so far?”
“Tokyo, I’d say. Why does this feel like some interview?”
“Should I start grading your answers?”
“I’d fail,” I quip. My eyes flick sideways, lips curling subtly.
“You wouldn’t.” She shifts her head in a quiet challenge.
My jaw tightens slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.
“My bad, though,” she adds. “That wasn’t the intention at all. I’m just trying to get to know my colleague. And you aren’t asking questions back as any normal human being would, but—”
“I know,” I cut in gently, raising a hand slightly. “Tell me about yourself, Jasmine.”
“Umm… besides the orphanage, I like to spend my time at the gym. Study. I guess.” Her voice drops toward the end.
“Interesting, so you and Justin are the same when it comes to the gym?”
“Yeah, you could say that. But I think he loves it more than me.” She lets out a soft laugh, fondness lacing it.
“I’m assuming you guys go way back?”
“How did you know?” She leans back theatrically.
I look away briefly, collecting myself. She’s…something. Not sure what I was expecting, but this… this is something.
“I’ve noticed how close you all are.” Referring to Arya, too.
“Yeah, we’ve been friends for the longest. Since primary school. I became friends first with Justin, then Arya, a couple of months later.”
“So it was like the three musketeers?” I joke.
“Funny thing, Justin and Arya weren’t friends then. I had to actually split myself between them both.”
Something clicks. Was Arya the girl Justin used to throw a fit about? I should interrogate him. If so, that’s hilarious.
…Also concerning.
“And how long did that go on for?”
“Until like, middle school. Ninth grade, to be exact,” she ponders. That confirms my suspicions. Justin’s still getting interrogated later.
“Tough.”
“Yeah…”
“Mrs Lockheart, why don’t you show us a bit of your dance moves?” Jack’s voice booms through the speakers. He smoothly transitions the music into something louder, upbeat—and the kids erupt with excitement.
Casting my eyes back at her, determination now settles across her face.
“If you will excuse me, I’ve got to show these little ones how it’s done,” she says, stretching her arms as she looks toward the dance floor.
Is she going to war?
“Be right back.” She shoots a wide smile before heading to the dance floor, swaying her arms side to side to the beat. The crowd surrounds her, limiting my view of her. Grabbing my cup, I make my way closer.
She hit a classic robot move, earning a belly laugh from the audience.
“Ms Lockheart, is that all you’ve got?” Ray shouts, faking a look of disappointment.
“Oh, darling, you know this is simply a warm-up.” With that, as soon as the beat dropped, she flawlessly switched to hip hop, as if she already knew what song was going to play next.
I close my mouth, catching myself. Glancing around it, it seems everyone else expected this. “She can dance, like dance dance…” I unknowingly spoke out my thoughts.
The intro of the next song alone causes the kids to hoot from excitement, before they uniformly get into formation. Their moves seemed as if they rehearsed them countless times before this very moment. I check over, wondering if I am the only one amazed.
As the performance comes to an end, I find myself eagerly applauding them, catching my abrupt enthusiasm, I ease my movements.
Jasmine gives a dramatic bow, earning a few laughs from those present, and the kids soon follow her movements. Noticing this, she tilts her head to the side and cheekily winks at the neighbouring child. I shake my head at her antics, clearing my throat.
I make my way to the kids, high-fiving them. “That was great, guys!”
“Thank you, Mr Ndiaga,” they chorus.
“How come we didn’t see you join the dance floor?” Ray questions, squinting his eyes at me.
“Ah, I’ve been busy making sure everything runs smoothly.”
That was not a lie. Although I wouldn’t take the offer to showcase my moves—my legs have a tendency to randomly lose rhythm, and today was definitely not the day to be unapologetic about it.
“Hmmm, okay then…” Ray sings, his eyes holding mischief.
“Mr Ndiaga, I’m tired,” Maya expresses, her little hand rubbing her tired eyes before hugging my leg. “It is getting late,” I counter, lifting her into my arms. She responds by snuggling into my neck. Lightly patting her back, feeling her drift into sleep. Something peculiar about Maya—she could fall asleep anywhere. There was a time when some of the kids were playing video games— being extremely loud—and there she was, lying on the couch beside them, fast asleep. Not once did she wake up to complain, even when the others shouted or dropped the controllers.
Anne once mentioned that part of the reason Maya can sleep through anything comes from years in a chaotic home before arriving at the orphanage. Her parents believed leaving her here was the better option—they felt they were young, unprepared, but planned to take her back as soon as they got back on their feet.
“Well, I’m famished,” someone exclaims, and others chime in agreement. I step aside, unconsciously tightening my hold on Maya as the kids swarm past. A chorus of squeaks, stomps, and laughter bounces off the walls. Jasmine’s laugh carries across the room, light but commanding attention effortlessly.
“I’m pretty sure they’re making the most of this opportunity.” She briefly checks her watch. “It’s a few minutes past their bedtime already.”
“We can wrap it up in about fifteen to twenty minutes,” I suggest. The kids are seated in a circle, eating the remaining pizza and snacks as one of them animatedly explains something, capturing their focus.
“I think she is asleep…should I take her?” She motions toward Maya.
“Sure, thanks.” I carefully place her in her arms, rolling my shoulders back, soothing the tension from carrying her. “I would put her to bed, but she doesn’t like being alone. So, I’ll wait until the party is over.”
Upon hearing her words, I reach out my arms to take her back. “There’s still about fifteen minutes left or so. Let me carry her for a bit longer before you take her.”
“It’s fine,” she gestures calmly with an open palm.
“I insist,” I murmur low, as I ease Maya into my arms.
“Okay then…thank you.”
I lower my chin, jaw tight, before going to find myself a seat—leaving her standing. From the corner of my eye, she purses her lips, confused by my change of mood. She shrugs and drifts toward Anne.
─ ✦ ❘ ✧ ❘ ✦ ─
The party has wound down. Jasmine has Maya in her arms as she promised, and the kids who joined us—the ones not from the orphanage—have made their way home along with the adults.
“Thank you for joining us and for the help. You are really great at this,” I compliment Jack, pulling him into a bro hug.
“Thanks, man. No sweat. Enjoyed my time here,” he says. We pack up his remaining equipment and meander toward his car.
“Sorry, need to give my thanks to Jasmine and Anne. Do you mind dropping what you have in the car in the meantime?” He reaches for his car keys.
“Umm, yeah…sure thing.” I take his keys, briefly watching him approach Anne, who Jasmine is simultaneously approaching.
“I think this will do,” I mumble to myself, being satisfied with how I’ve placed everything in the boot. Double-checking the car is locked before strolling up the driveway. Crossing paths with Jack along his way, he bids his last goodbye and gratitude before heading to his car. I watch him for a moment, making sure he’s safely on his way, then double-check that the other guests have left and everything is cleared up.
A yawn escapes my mouth as I stretch my arms, the cool evening air brushing against my face. With a final glance at the now-quiet yard, I make my way back inside.
A few minutes of cleaning up go by, pausing for a break, I slip my phone out of my back pocket. Quickly responding to the voice note Maman left, I resume with what’s left.
“All done?” Anne’s presence snaps me out of my thoughts—her handbag in hand and the other arm holding a shopping bag with a few leftovers, she seems set to leave.
“Yeah, is Mama Aida home?” Anne usually leaves only when her mom is home or there’s a guardian present.
“Yep,” she gives a firm nod, “Mom came in not too long ago. You were probably busy and didn’t see her come in. She escorted Jasmine with the kids to their rooms.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll give my greetings before heading out, too, then.”
“Sure thi—” A call interrupts. “Oh.” She turns the phone to me—the screen shows her husband calling. “I’ll catch you. Thanks for your service,” she hollers before picking up the call.
“Same to you.”
My shoes squeak against the floor, the hallway dimly lit by the ceiling lights.
“Ouff.”
“My bad,” Jasmine and I say at the same time, steadying ourselves from the impact.
“All good,” she reassures.
“Is Mama Aida with the kids?” I ask, remembering where I was heading in the first place.
“Oh, she went to bed, didn’t stay with them for long.”
“Oh, okay then.”
The walls echoed lightly with our steps, the hum of the house settling around us.
“How will you be getting home?”
“I’ll be calling an Uber.”
“Have you ordered? I could drop you home?”
“Thank you for the offer. I have already called, though, and it’s arriving right…about now,” she says, checking her phone.
“Are you all leaving?” Mr Abdou approaches—middle-aged, streaks of grey at his temples, tall and solidly built.
“Yes, Sir,” we respond in unison.
“Let me escort you out.”
“It’s alright, Sir, it’s quite late. I’ll escort Jasmine and myself out. Please do give my greetings to Mama Aida, missed her earlier.”
“Okay then. Will give her your regards, son.” A draft pushes through the doorway, brushing against my face as we step outside. “Alright, be safe.” We exchange our farewells, and the door clicks shut behind us.
“I think I should drop you at the gate?” I suggest considering how we are both leaving. No need to make Joseph open it twice.
“Yeah. I’m just notifying the driver I’ll be there in a bit.”
I nod before opening the car door for her. The dome light catches the edge of her hair as she slides in.
“Thank you, Joseph.” We wave each other goodbye as we exit.
After pulling up near the gate, I switch off the engine and accompany her to the Uber parked right behind. Squinting my eyes due to the brightness of the headlights, I steal a quick look at the number plate.
“Thank you,” she murmurs as I open the car door for her.
I lower my chin, something protective flickering inside me. “Be safe.”
“Thank you, I have shared the trip with Arya and Anne.”
“Okay, good.”
I greet the driver, then close the door, stepping back as the engine hums to life, and the car slowly reverses out of the driveway, headlights cutting through the dark.
─ ✦ ❘ ✧ ❘ ✦ ─
The earlier conversation about her visa comes to mind. My chest feels bruised by the memory.
I can’t help being drawn to her. My fingers tap against the steering wheel.
A huff of laughter slips past my lips. I sound ridiculous.
━━━━━━━♡❘★❘♡━━━━━━━
© 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.
