Love Through the Lens

Ayanda stared at her laptop screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Another client is seeking advice about finding love online. She almost laughed at the irony. Six months ago, she had been Cape Town’s most sought-after relationship coach, helping others find their perfect match through carefully curated dating profiles. Now, after Marcus left her alone at the altar, each consultation felt like reopening a wound.

“Authenticity is key,” she typed mechanically, the words feeling hollow. The afternoon sun streamed through her office window, casting a golden glow on the empty chair where her clients usually sat during in-person sessions.

A thunderous crash from the street below startled her. Ayanda rushed to her second-floor window, her braids swinging forward as she leaned out. A man lay sprawled on the sidewalk beside a toppled motorcycle, his camera equipment scattered across the pavement.

Without thinking, she ran downstairs. “Are you okay?” she called out, her heels clicking against the concrete.

The man sat up, wincing. “Just my pride that’s hurt,” he said, his accent distinctly Zimbabwean. He reached for a scratched camera, checking it anxiously. “And maybe my equipment budget.”

“I’m Ayanda,” she said, helping him gather his gear. “There’s a coffee shop next door. Let me buy you a cup while you recover.”

“Munashe,” he replied, offering a warm smile that made her heart skip unexpectedly. “I’d like that, but only if you let me photograph you. The light right now…” He gestured to how the setting sun painted the street in amber tones. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, I don’t do photographs anymore,” Ayanda said quickly, thinking of all the wedding photos she’d deleted. “Bad experiences.”

Munashe tilted his head, studying her with gentle eyes. “Sometimes the most beautiful pictures come from capturing someone without trying to pose. When they’re just being themselves.”

Over coffee, Munashe shared stories about his work documenting wildlife in Zimbabwe‘s national parks and his recent move to South Africa for a gallery exhibition. Ayanda found herself laughing genuinely for the first time in months.

“So what do you do?” he asked, his fingers absently tracing patterns on his coffee cup.

Ayanda hesitated. “I help people find love online,” she said finally. “Or at least, I used to be good at it.”

“Used to be?”

“Let’s just say I lost my faith in the whole thing.”

Munashe reached for his camera. “Maybe you just need to see it through a different lens.” He showed her the screen – a candid shot he’d taken of her laughing moments earlier. In the image, her eyes sparkled with a joy she hardly recognized.

“Sometimes,” he said softly, “the best things in life crash into us when we least expect them.”

Ayanda felt something shift inside her, like a frozen stream beginning to thaw. Maybe, she thought, looking at Munashe’s gentle smile, some crashes were meant to happen