The story of how Luyando met Mubanga was the kind of thing people think only happens in movies—pure coincidence, perfectly timed, and wrapped in a little chaos. But for her, it didn’t feel cinematic. It felt like embarrassment, heat, and panic all mixed into one moment that would later become her favorite memory.That morning, Lusaka felt louder than usual. Even the sun seemed to burn with unnecessary enthusiasm as she navigated through crowds entering the Zambia Innovation Expo. She had arrived with purpose—and pressure. Her job was on the line. Her boss had made it painfully clear the day before:“If we don’t get at least one major tech client this month, consider your contract expired.”So yes, she walked into the Expo with a weight sitting firmly on her chest. The air-conditioning inside the venue barely helped. Her palms were already sweaty as she clutched her notebook and a cup of iced coffee like her life depended on it.She whispered to herself, “You just need one client. Just one. Don’t overthink. Just smile. Pitch. Smile again.”Small companies crowded the edges of the exhibition hall while bigger, more expensive stands took center stage—shiny, loud, confident. She wished her courage looked like that.While adjusting her ID badge, she stepped back—and collided with someone.Everything went into slow motion.Her iced coffee tipped forward.The cup flew from her hand like it had a personal vendetta.Brown liquid spilled across a crisp, white shirt.“Oh my God, no no no—I'm so sorry!” Luyando gasped, mortified as she tried to wipe his shirt with tissue that only spread the coffee more.“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the man said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Please don’t worry.”But she was worrying. She wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole.“I swear it was an accident. I was just—”“Nervous?” he guessed, with the smallest smile tugging at his lips.She blinked. His voice was calm. His eyes soft. His smile… unfair. This man looked like he had been crafted by someone who understood the assignment too well—tall, clean-cut, and carrying a quiet confidence that radiated without effort.“I… yes,” she admitted, defeated. “I’m Luyando. And I’m really, really sorry.”“I’m Mubanga,” he said, extending a hand that still had droplets of coffee on it. “And it’s honestly fine. I should’ve seen you stepping back.”She shook his hand hesitantly. “I owe you a new shirt.”He chuckled. “Or at least another coffee. Since yours died a tragic death.”And for the first time since she entered the Expo, she laughed.---A Connection That Shouldn't Have HappenedThey moved to the side, away from the traffic of attendees. Luyando expected the conversation to end quickly—maybe a polite apology, awkward silence, then goodbye. But instead, they spoke like two old friends reconnecting after years apart.“What brings you to the Expo?” Mubanga asked, leaning casually against a tall display board.“Work,” she replied. “I’m trying to pitch marketing solutions to tech companies.”“Sounds stressful.”“It’s… extremely stressful,” she confessed. “My job depends on it.”He nodded thoughtfully, as if he understood more than she said.“What about you?” she asked.“I run a fintech startup with a few partners,” he said. “We’re showcasing here too.”Her mind froze.A startup? A tech startup? A potential client?But just as quickly as the thought came, she shoved it away. He was being kind. She didn’t want to turn the conversation into a desperate pitch and ruin the moment.She glanced at the brown stain on his shirt again. “I really messed up your outfit.”He looked down, shrugged, and smiled. “Gives it character.”Luyando laughed softly. “Well… it was nice meeting you.”“Likewise,” he said.They didn’t exchange numbers. Didn’t promise to meet again. Nothing. When he walked away, she felt something odd—some strange tug inside her chest. Something she knew she shouldn’t entertain.She sighed, shook herself out of whatever emotional haze she was sinking into, and got back to her mission.But her mind kept replaying his smile.---By Afternoon, She Was ExhaustedHours passed. Her throat was dry from pitching to people who politely nodded but clearly weren’t interested. Her feet ached. Her stack of business cards was almost gone.The more she tried, the more she felt the failure tightening around her like a noose.She stepped outside for air.The breeze was warm, carrying the scent of street vendors grilling maize nearby. It grounded her, reminding her of home—of her mother telling her, “A strong woman doesn't give up, even when her knees are shaking.”She swallowed the frustration and returned inside.---The Second EncounterJust after 4 p.m., as she was adjusting a display board, someone tapped her shoulder.She turned, and her breath hitched.“Hey,” Mubanga said, looking as if he’d been scanning the room for her.“You came back?” she asked, surprised.“Well… I wasn’t sure if yo