The first time Titus met Lina, it was not planned.
It never was in stories like his.
It happened on a day like any other—when life did not announce that it was about to change, but simply did it anyway.
He was returning from the river, jerrycans cutting into his hands, dust clinging to his feet. The sun was already harsh, and his mind was elsewhere—half on tomorrow’s work, half on the quiet exhaustion that had become his normal.
That was when he heard laughter.
Not the mocking kind he was used to.
This was lighter.
Unburdened.
He slowed without meaning to.
Near the roadside, a group of village girls stood chatting. One of them turned slightly, and for a brief moment, her eyes met his.
Lina.
She wasn’t the kind of beauty that demanded attention.
She was the kind that held it quietly.
Soft eyes. Calm presence. A smile that looked like it hadn’t been shaped by struggle yet.
Titus looked away immediately.
Not because he was uninterested.
But because interest was dangerous in a life like his.
“Hey,” one of the girls called out suddenly. “You’re Titus, right?”
He paused.
Hearing his name spoken by someone who wasn’t commanding him always felt strange.
“Yes,” he replied cautiously.
Lina stepped slightly forward. “You always carry water alone?”
Titus didn’t answer at first.
Because no one ever asked why he did...