I cannot forget that night. My phone lit up in the middle of the night, a time when the whole world seemed to be in silence. The name Sasha flashed on the screen, and my heart almost stopped. At that hour, only lovers are allowed to disturb the silence, yet Sasha was no longer my lover. For a second, hope took over me, a foolish hope that maybe she wanted to come back, maybe she wanted to apologize for leaving. Without hesitation, I picked up the call.
“Hello…” I said softly, my voice unsteady with both fear and anticipation.
Then I heard it. A sharp cry, raw and terrifying. Her voice cracked as though she was breaking apart inside. Between the sobs, I caught the words that chilled my blood. “Help me, he is going to kill me…”
The line did not disconnect. Instead, I became a helpless witness to her horror. A rough husky voice thundered in the background, demanding to know who she had called. Then came the violent orchestra of sounds I will never forget. The heavy thuds of punches, the sharp slaps, the cruel kicks, and Sasha’s cries of agony blending into a nightmare symphony. Each sound stabbed my heart. I listened for ten seconds, though they felt like ten lifetimes.
Sasha was not just any woman. She was my childhood sweetheart, my first love, the girl whose smile could brighten even the darkest of days. She had flawless skin that seemed to glow naturally, and she carried herself with a grace that made her unforgettable. Everyone in our neighborhood used to joke that we would end up married. To me, it was not a joke. It was a dream.
We grew up together, went to the same schools until high school where life separated us. She joined Alliance Girls, and I went to Maseno School. Later, she earned a scholarship to study nursing in Australia, while I joined the Technical University of Kenya for software engineering. Despite the distance, our bond survived. We would talk daily, text constantly, and share everything. She sent me her laughter in memes, her affection in messages, and even her intimacy in private pictures. I believed she was mine, and I was hers.
Then, without warning, she began slipping away. At first, her replies came late. Then she stopped picking my calls altogether. Before I could fully understand, the news landed like a thunderbolt. Sasha had gotten married to someone else. Not just anyone, but a man from a wealthy family, someone whose money opened every door. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I cried like I had never cried before. She was my first love, my only love, and I did not know how to survive such pain. But in Africa, men are raised to be strong, so I gathered myself and carried on. On the outside, I moved forward, but inside, I was a dead man walking, haunted by the memory of her smile.
Years later, fate brought her back into my life. I met her at a supermarket. My heart jumped with excitement, but the woman standing before me was not the Sasha I knew. She was thinner, dull, and her once vibrant energy was gone. I noticed dark marks on her neck, marks I knew were not birthmarks. I pretended not to think too much about it, convincing myself she might have been trying the weight loss craze that had gripped Nairobi.
But that phone call revealed the truth. Her husband was a violent drunk who had turned her marriage into a prison. That night, he had locked all the doors, beaten her savagely, and when she managed to hide in the pantry, she used that chance to call me. It was her last hope. He broke in, snatched her phone, and unleashed his fury. Through the open line, I heard her pain, her fear, her helplessness.
I called the police immediately and gave them her location. They arrived in time to rescue her and rushed her to Nairobi Women’s Hospital in Kilimani. At dawn, I went there. What I saw broke me completely. Sasha lay on the hospital bed, her face swollen and disfigured, her body covered with bruises. She could not speak, only lie there in silence. Tears poured down my face uncontrollably.
Her friend Linda told me this was not the first time. Sasha had been enduring this torment for years, but she stayed because of family pressure and the image of a perfect marriage. The weight loss, the dullness, the marks on her skin—all of it was the story of her suffering.
Then, in the midst of all that pain, her husband had the audacity to show up at the hospital. Something inside me snapped. I pounced on him, raining blows while shouting in anger, demanding why he had done this to her. My fists moved with the fury of years of love and betrayal. I almost choked him to death before security pulled me away.
The police arrested me and dragged me to Kilimani Police Station. Meanwhile, her husband used his wealth to bribe his way out of trouble. I stayed in custody for two days, denied bail by officers who preferred his money to justice. When I was finally released, Linda told me the most shocking news. Sasha had chosen to go back to him.
I could not understand it. After all that had happened, after coming so close to death, she still went back. I told myself that maybe it was not my fight, but deep inside, my soul was crushed.
Three months later, as I sat in my living room watching the evening news, the headline shattered me. A man had killed his wife and later taken his own life. When the names were read, my heart froze. It was Sasha.
The reports said she had died from head injuries after being struck with a blunt object. Her husband, after realizing what he had done, hanged himself.
I could not breathe. I could not think. The last call I had from her, those twenty seconds of her desperate cry for help, were the last moments I ever had with her. That was her final voice to me.
I sat there broken, my mind drowning in memories. I remembered her smile, her laughter, her beauty, and the love we once shared. I remembered how everyone thought we would marry, and how I too had believed it.
Now, all I am left with are questions that will never be answered. Why did she not walk away at the first red flag? Why did she stay in the storm that eventually drowned her? And why did fate allow me to love her so deeply, only to lose her so cruelly?
Sasha is gone, and all I have left are the memories of the girl I once loved, and the sound of her crying voice that will haunt me forever.
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