Korir had silently admired his colleague Nyaboke for months. She was everything he found captivating. Confident, intelligent, full of laughter and consistently outstanding at work.
During meetings, he'd sneak glances her way, heart thumping, unsure how to initiate a real conversation.
One afternoon, he finally gathered the courage.
“Hey, Nyaboke. How’s it going?” he asked, feigning casualness.
Nyaboke gave a warm smile. “I’m good, Korir. Just trying to meet these deadlines. You?”
Korir was thrilled. As they began chatting more often during lunch and coffee breaks, he wondered if she might feel the same way. But before he could explore that, an unexpected opportunity, and challenge, arose.
Kiamaku Merchandise, their workplace, was hosting a team building event. Among the activities was a 100m race. Korir decided to sign up, seeing it as a chance to impress Nyaboke.
Race day came with a buzz. As the starting gun fired, Korir surged forward with determination. But within seconds, his enthusiasm fizzled. The other runners pulled ahead as he lagged behind, his body unprepared for the burst of athleticism.
The crowd cheered but Korir barely heard it. His lungs burned, legs screamed and by the time he reached the finish line, he was a distant last.
Nyaboke approached, trying to mask her reaction. “Hey, Korir, are you okay?” she asked, sympathy in her voice. “That was quite a… spirited effort.”
Korir laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I was being strategic,” he said, forcing a grin.
Nyaboke chuckled lightly. “Maybe next time, go with a different strategy.”
As they walked away, Korir overheard her whisper to a colleague, “I don't know how he's going to redeem himself after that.”
The comment stung. His heart sank. He had hoped to impress her, not become a punchline.
Determined to change the narrative, Korir sought out his long-time friend, Baba Kajojo, a gym enthusiast. Baba welcomed him with open arms.
“What’s going on, man? You suddenly want to lift weights?” Baba Kajojo teased.
“It’s Nyaboke,” Korir confessed. “I like her. But after that disaster of a race, I feel like I need to prove I’m not a joke.”
Baba clapped him on the back. “Alright, then. Let’s do this right. Start slow, with some jogging and light weights, and then build up.”
Korir dove into the challenge. Every morning, he ran, every evening, he hit the gym. Baba Kajojo guided and pushed him, reminding him to stay disciplined. It wasn’t easy. Muscles ached and doubts crept in, but Korir pushed through. He had a goal: be better for himself and maybe win Nyaboke’s respect.
Weeks turned to months. His stamina increased. His posture improved. His confidence grew. He didn’t just feel fitter, he felt transformed.
One day, after work, Nyaboke approached him as they exited the building.
"Your body structure has truly changed. You look fantastic," she said with a smile.
"Your dedication to the gym has been really strong lately. It’s inspiring.”
Korir’s heart skipped. “Thanks, Nyaboke. You kind of inspired me.”
Her smile faltered slightly, but then she laughed softly, and for the first time, Korir sensed something had shifted between them.
Their conversations grew deeper. They shared ideas, gave each other feedback and even worked on a few small projects together.
The bond between them strengthened naturally. No performance, just connection.
Soon, it was time for the next company team building event. Korir, now lean and confident, signed up for the 100m race again, not to impress but to measure how far he’d come.
When the starting gun fired, he launched forward with power and rhythm. As the finish line neared, he surged ahead and crossed it — first.
Cheers erupted. His colleagues clapped him on the back, stunned by his turnaround. Nyaboke stood among them, clapping with a look of genuine admiration.
That evening, the team gathered for a celebratory dinner. Laughter and warmth filled the air. Korir found himself seated next to Nyaboke. The atmosphere was perfect, casual yet intimate.
“Korir,” she said, her voice softer now, “I’ve really enjoyed watching your growth. You’ve changed a lot in such a short time.”
Korir smiled. “Thank you. That really means a lot, especially coming from you.”
They chatted about the race, their work, their goals. As the night wore on, Korir felt a growing urgency. This was his moment.
“Nyaboke,” he began, clearing his throat. “I’ve been thinking about us lately.”
She turned to him, curious.
“I know we’ve built a great friendship, and I don’t want to jeopardise that,” he continued, heart pounding. “But I can’t help feeling there’s more. I like you, Nyaboke. I have for a long time.”
There was a pause. Korir held his breath.
Nyaboke looked surprised, but then her face softened. “I’m glad you said that,” she replied. “I’ve felt the same way. I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”
Relief flooded through Korir, and a wide smile spread across his face. “Really? So… what do we do now?”
Nyaboke’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s take it one step at a time. I’d love to see where this leads.”
Korir nodded. “Me, too.”
They spent the rest of the evening side by side, sharing stories and laughter. It felt easy. Right.
As the night ended, Korir walked Nyaboke to her car. The stars above shimmered, and the air was crisp with promise.
“I’m really glad I spoke up,” he said.
“Me, too,” she replied. “I’m excited to see what’s next.”
As they said goodnight, Korir felt a surge of happiness unlike anything he’d known. Not because he’d won a race, but because he’d found the courage to become better, and to love without fear.
And maybe, just maybe, that had made all the difference.
