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She smiled. Maybe real romance wasn’t about grand gestures. Maybe it was about showing up — with soup, not excuses.

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“He owes me 47k. If you’re his new financier, welcome. If not, run.” She smiled

That evening, she found him at the Java house on Moi Avenue — laughing with a woman in a red dress, sipping a milkshake he’d promised her last week. Wanjiku didn’t make a scene. She simply walked to their table, smiled at the other woman, and said: welcome. If not