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Brian Ngunjiri

Brian Ngunjiri

Short stories with a twist of mystery, a dash of romance, and a wink of humor. Where love misbehaves, reality bends, and nothing’s ever quite what it seems.

8 min readSep 10, 2025

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Chapter three……

Ray leaned back, rubbing his temples. “Tracy… this was years ago.”

She shrugged, her lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, the curve of her jaw, the way her hair fell loose over her shoulder, the faint tremor in her fingers as she swirled the whiskey. Damn it.

“Tracy,” he said again, softer this time, almost a plea. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she whispered, leaning forward just slightly, enough for him to catch the faint scent of her perfume, a memory wrapped in something dangerously present. “Pretend you don’t remember how it felt?”

Ray’s throat tightened. He remembered. Every second of it. The heat of her mouth, the wild rush in his chest, the guilt that came right after.

He pushed back from the desk abruptly, standing so fast the chair rolled into the bookshelf. “This, this is not happening. Not again.”

“Why not?” Tracy’s voice cracked like a whip in the quiet. “You think I haven’t thought about it? You think I haven’t replayed that night a thousand times in my head?”

He turned, his pulse hammering. “Stop.”

But she didn’t. She set the glass down, rose to her feet, and crossed the room slowly, like a storm closing in. “You called me Sarah tonight,” she said, stopping inches from him. “You don’t think that means something?”

His jaw clenched. “It means I’m tired. It means I’m losing everything, and you’re” He cut himself off, because the rest of the sentence was a confession he couldn’t afford.

“And I’m what?” Tracy pressed, her voice soft now, breaking through the armor. “Say it.”

Ray looked at her, really looked, and in that charged silence, he knew he was standing on the edge of something that could ruin him, or save him. Maybe both.

As she walked to him, his phone suddenly rang again, aaaargh, I swear if it’s her one more time, I will blow off on this phone.

As he struggled to get his phone out of his jacket, Tracy held his hand and pulled it up her back, We can’t do this, he said, we just can’t.

Your dad will kill me, I’m so afraid of that man, please, Tracy, please, he cried out.

Tracy didn’t flinch. Her eyes locked on his, daring him to pull away. “Then don’t let him find out,” she whispered, her breath trembling but her grip like iron.

The phone buzzed again between them, a violent reminder of the world outside this moment. Ray glanced at the screen, Sarah. His chest tightened.

He froze, torn in half. What the hell am I doing? Every rational thought screamed at him to stop, to step back, to run before this became something neither of them could undo. But Tracy was there, close enough that he could feel her heartbeat through the thin silk of her dress.

“You think I’m afraid of him?” she said, voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. “I’m afraid of losing you.”

That undid him. Everything, the fear, the guilt, the desire, crashed like a wave. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes shut tight, as the phone kept ringing in his hand.

The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud. He didn’t care anymore. Not about the call. Not about the consequences.

Her fingers trailed up his arm, slow, deliberate, until they rested at the back of his neck. “Ray…” she breathed, and God help him, it sounded like a prayer.

“We can’t,” he whispered, even as his hands betrayed him, drawing her closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

“Working for you in this case for the past seven weeks, and how you looked at me showed me different,” she murmured, her lips so close he could taste the word weeks on his tongue. “And yet here we are.”

His heart slammed against his ribs. Every warning in his head flashed red: Sarah, her father, the fallout, but none of it mattered in that second. All that existed was Tracy. The girl he wasn’t supposed to want. The girl he couldn’t stop wanting at the moment.

Her forehead brushed his, her breath mingling with his. “Tell me you don’t feel it,” she said, voice trembling with something that sounded dangerously like hope.

Ray’s hands tightened on her waist. His throat burned as he forced out the lie that never stood a chance. “I don’t feel it.”

Tracy smiled, slow and devastating, because they both knew he was lying. Her lips brushed his feather-light, enough to break every last piece of his resolve.

When he kissed her, it wasn’t gentle. It was years of restraint snapping all at once, hunger and fury and something far worse: love? If so, what kind of love was this?

The world could end, her father could kill him, Sarah could hate him forever, he’d only just gotten her, but in that moment, he belonged to Tracy.

The kiss deepened, a desperate collision of everything they had tried to bury. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could lock the moment in time. Ray didn’t think, couldn’t think, only feel.

Then click.

The sound was small, but it hit like a gunshot. A door latch. From the other office.

Both froze. Breathless. Tracy’s lips hovered against his, her nails digging into his shoulders. His pulse roared in his ears as his eyes darted toward the frosted glass pane separating them from the adjoining office.

A shadow moved.

Someone’s here.

Ray’s mind spun, panic slicing through the haze of desire. He stepped back too quickly, nearly knocking over a chair. Tracy’s chest rose and fell like she’d just run a marathon, her flushed cheeks glowing in the dim light.

“Ray…” she whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling not with fear, but with the thrill of being caught.

The silhouette shifted again. The door creaked wider.

Ray’s stomach knotted. Please, God, not him. Not her father.

He reached for the phone on the floor, fumbling like a guilty teenager. It was still buzzing with Sarah’s name flashing across the screen, mocking him.

Another step from the other office. Then a low voice. Female. Too calm. Too close.

“Ray… you in here?”

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Ray’s blood turned to ice.

Tracy’s eyes went wide, panic finally replacing defiance. Her fingers gripped his sleeve like it was the only thing anchoring her to this reality.

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady as footsteps drew nearer.

“Yeah… I’m here,” he called out, praying his shaking hands and pounding heart didn’t give him away.

It was the cleaning lady, Maria, from the company they’d outsourced to handle the after-hours cleanup. Time had slipped through their fingers like water, and neither of them had noticed how late it had gotten.

Ray exhaled hard, his lungs screaming for air as Maria appeared in the doorway with a mop and a tired smile.

“Evening,” she said casually, oblivious to the storm brewing in that room.

“Evening, Maria,” Tracy managed, her voice light but her fingers still trembling as she smoothed her hair. Ray forced a polite nod, his throat dry, his pulse still hammering against his ribs.

They didn’t linger. Couldn’t. Tracy grabbed her bag, and they slipped out like thieves, every step echoing in Ray’s ears. The hallway felt too long, too bright, like the world could see what they’d almost done.

By the time they reached his car, his hands were still shaking. He gripped the steering wheel like it could steady him, but it didn’t. The guilt. The desire. The fear, they all tangled into a knot he couldn’t untie.

He finally picked up the phone from the cup holder, Sarah’s name still glaring at him like an accusation. With a deep breath, he hit call.

She answered on the first ring.

“Ray?” Her voice was soft, warm, familiar. It gutted him.

“Hey,” he said, trying for steady, but the words cracked.

“Where are you? You sound… off.”

He swallowed hard, eyes darting to Tracy in the passenger seat. She stared out the window, silent, her reflection in the glass a mix of defiance and something that looked too much like sadness.

“I’m fine,” Ray lied, his voice low. “Just… long day.”

Sarah didn’t sound convinced. “ You sure that’s all it is?”

His grip on the wheel tightened. For a second, he thought about telling her everything, just letting it all burn down. But then Tracy’s hand brushed against his on the center console, light as a whisper, and the words died in his throat.

“Yeah,” he said instead, forcing a weak laugh. “Just tired. I’ll be home soon.”

But as he hung up, he knew nothing about this night was over.

The Drive…..

The car was silent except for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional hiss of tires. Night had swallowed the city whole, streetlights stretching shadows across the dashboard like prison bars.

Ray gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles whitened. His heart still hadn’t slowed. His mind replayed that kiss, and every reason why it shouldn’t have happened.

He risked a glance at Tracy. She sat angled toward the window, her face sharp against the passing lights. Calm on the outside, but he knew her too well. The way her fingers curled against her thigh, the steady rise and fall of her chest, she was holding it all in.

“You don’t have to drive me,” she said finally, her voice low, almost casual. “I can call a cab.”

Ray laughed, humorless. “And let you ride alone this late? Not a chance.”

She didn’t argue, but her gaze stayed fixed on the dark city beyond the glass. After a moment, she spoke again, softer this time.

“Do you regret it?”

His breath caught. He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because the truth was clawing at him like a beast, No, God help me, no.

“Tracy…” His voice cracked on her name.

She turned then, meeting his eyes, and for a heartbeat, the world tilted again. That same pull. That same danger.

“I don’t,” she whispered.

Ray slammed the brakes a little harder than necessary at the red light ahead, needing something to jolt him back. He stared straight ahead, jaw tight.

“You should,” he said through clenched teeth.

But when the light turned green and he drove on, he felt her hand brush his again, just for a second enough to set him on fire all over again.

Sarah sat on the edge of their bed, the glow from her phone casting a pale light across the room. She stared at the last text Ray sent an hour ago: On my way. Love you.

She didn’t believe it. Not tonight.

When he finally walked in, his shirt slightly wrinkled, his hair a little too messy, her eyes narrowed. He kissed her cheek, too quick, too careful.

“Long day,” he muttered, heading straight for the closet.

Sarah studied him like a puzzle missing a piece. The way he avoided her eyes. The way his voice sounded… hollow. Off.

“You didn’t answer earlier,” she said, keeping her tone light, almost teasing. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied too fast, pulling off his tie. “Honey, it’s the case, I promise.”

Sarah smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Inside, a knot of unease twisted tighter. He’d had long days before. He’d been tired before. But this felt different.

As Ray disappeared into the bathroom, she sat very still, her instincts whispering something she didn’t want to hear. Something that sounded like betrayal.

And when she heard the faint sound of him leaning against the bathroom sink, breathing hard like a man trying to keep from falling apart, she knew her instincts were right.

To be continued……

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Brian Ngunjiri
Brian Ngunjiri

Written by Brian Ngunjiri

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Short stories with a twist of mystery, a dash of romance, and a wink of humor. Where love misbehaves, reality bends, and nothing’s ever quite what it seems.