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Nimrod Kamau invested KSh 350,000 in his partner’s education, only to be dumped for a "campus bae" upon her graduation, forcing him to find solace and a new beginning in the iron paradise of a Westlands gym.

It is the oldest script in the Nairobi playbook, yet it stings with fresh venom every time it is read aloud. Nimrod Kamau, a meticulous electrical engineer living in Westlands, thought he had secured his future when he invested in the education of the woman he loved. Instead, he found himself alone in an empty apartment, staring at a bank loan balance of KSh 350,000 and a wedding invitation that did not bear his name.
This is not just a story about a broken heart; it is a cautionary tale about the economics of modern romance in a city that eats the naive for breakfast. For Nimrod, a man who values the precision of circuits and the predictability of voltage, the chaos of Magdalena’s betrayal was a system failure he never saw coming. He had followed the rules: he identified a "good girl" from a humble background, supported her dreams, and paid her tuition at a leading university, believing he was building a foundation for a shared life.
Nimrod’s descent began the way most tragedies do—with good intentions. "She was intelligent, ambitious, and burdened by responsibility," Nimrod recalls, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the lingering pain. He took out a sacco loan to clear her fee arrears, shielding her from the indignity of missing exams. He paid for her hostel, her upkeep, and her graduation gown. He was the silent investor in Magdalena Inc., waiting for the dividends of marriage and partnership.
The returns never came. On the day of her graduation, amidst the ululations and garlands, Magdalena introduced Nimrod not as her fiancé, but as "a supportive friend from home." Two months later, she moved in with a fellow graduate—a "campus bae" who had contributed nothing to her degree but had evidently captured her heart. The wedding photos on Instagram were the final receipt of a transaction gone wrong.
The Fitfinity Gym became Nimrod’s rehabilitation centre. At first, he was a ghost among the fitness influencers and powerlifters, intimidated by the clang of iron and the hiss of treadmills. But the gym offered something the relationship hadn't: a direct correlation between effort and result. If he lifted heavy, he got stronger. If he ran, his endurance improved. There were no hidden clauses, no sudden changes of heart.
"I’ve learned the cost of neglect and the pain of loss," Nimrod told a fellow gym-goer one evening. That gym-goer was Agatha, a woman who moved with power and grace, observing the world with a calm detachment. Unlike Magdalena, Agatha did not need saving. She was self-sufficient, training daily with a discipline that matched Nimrod’s own.
Weeks of shared sets and synchronized water breaks turned into coffee dates. There was no pressure, no financial transaction—just two adults rebuilding themselves one rep at a time. Nimrod Kamau may have lost his capital investment in the School of Love, but at Fitfinity, he is finally gaining interest in a future that looks surprisingly bright.
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