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HERVOYAGEMAG

Period

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Easing the Cycle From Pain to Power

The Rise of TheRiseof

Manuela Wenger Wenger Wenger

Editor’s Note

HERVOYAGEMAG

Let me start by pointing the finger at myself whoamI?

The usual answer? “I am what I do.” But my heart wants to tell you a different story. From Yemen, Oman, Tanzania these rivers flow in my bloodstream, a legacy from lands of heroes, of courage without fear. I am a daughter of those places, a bearer of love, and above all, a storyteller of life’s journey. I am a diaspora who lefthometoseekmore,tofindmore. So, who are you? Too often, we shrink ourselves down to job titles, to roles that barely scratch the surface. But you are so much more. You are daughter, friend, sister, lover, and humble heart. You are the warmth in a cold world, the resilience after a storm. Life is a gift don’t rush to unwrap it. Take your time. Tenderly pull the ribbon, savor every moment like a lover’s whisper. You are not a simple answer to a simple question. You are history deep roots entwined with stories that span generations. You are the author of your own book, and when you write, write with a tender heart, because when others read it, you become the masterpiece.So,tellmeagainwhoareyou?

Editor-in-Chiefhoneymoon aljabri

EDITORIAL: EDITORIAL:

The Many Faces of Womanhood The Many Faces of Womanhood

We come from different backgrounds, shapes, colors, and textures of hair. We walk through fire and emerge not untouched, but unyielding scarred yet stronger. We are not the pills designed to shrink us, nor the chemicals marketed to silence the wildness of our curls. We are not beauty standards wrapped in glossy covers or sold in sleek bottles. We are raw. We are real. We are unbreakable. Womanhood isn’t a mold to fill; it’s a force to be reckoned with. We are the fighters and the lovers, the quiet healers and the roaring storms. We carry the weight of ancient stories in our bones and craft new ones with every breath we take. In a world desperate to shrink us, silence us, erase us, Her Voyage stands tall as a celebration a fierce, unapologetic anthem for every woman who refuses to be anything less than herself. We honor the scars and the smiles, the battles waged in boardrooms, kitchens, and hearts alike.

We lift the voices that have been silenced and amplify the strength that has always been ours. To be a woman is to embody contradictions with grace strength wrapped in vulnerability, independence tethered to connection. It is to have roots entrenched in history while daring to reach for the uncharted tomorrow. It is holding heartbreak and hope, resilience and rebellion, tradition and transformation all at once. This issue is an invitation a call to embrace every story, every shape, every struggle, and every triumph of womanhood. To stand together in unshakable sisterhood, to heal each other’s wounds, to ignite each other’s flames. Because the true power of womanhood isn’t found in bending to meet expectations. It’s in rising, raw and radiant, as our full, fierce selves.

HER VOYAGE

When to Let Go and How to Heal

WE talk about breakups, the spotlight often falls on romantic relationships. But there’s another kind of heartbreak that doesn’t get enough attention at the end of a deep friendship. This is the breakup that often leaves us reeling, our souls aching in a way few other losses can. As women, we pour so much into our friendships. These are the sisters we choose, the ones who know our secrets, celebrate our wins, and hold us through our losses. So, what happens when the bond fades, or worse, shatters? This is personal to me. I’m Honeymoon Aljabri, the editor of Her Voyage magazine, and I’ll be the first to say it: friendship breakups hurt more than we like to admit. They don’t come with closure dinners or neatly tied-up endings. Instead, they leave behind unanswered questions, lingering pain, and a void where laughter and connection once lived.

Growing up, I believed my worth was tied to how many friends I had. I gave all I could time, energy, love because I truly believed friends were the family God gave us the chance to choose. Over the years, I’ve lost friends who meant the world to me. These weren’t just casual connections; they were soul sisters. Even now, I hold onto the beautiful memories we created together. I loved them then, I love them now, and I always will. But I’ve learned to accept that some friendships are for a season, some for a reason, and a rare few for a lifetime.

Think of your friendships like a tree:

Roots: These are your lifelong connections. They’re steady, unshaken by storms, and will always hold you up.

Branches: They seem strong, but a hurricane or even a strong wind can reveal their fragility.

Leaves: Beautiful, colorful, but everchanging with the seasons. Understanding this can help you navigate the loss when a branch breaks or a leaf falls away.

Losing a friend is a deep emotional wound, and it’s okay to feel the loss. Grief is not just for romantic breakups or divorce it’s for any kind of love that’s been lost. Allow yourself to mourn. Here’s how you can start healing:

Sometimes, a friendship ends because it’s meant to. Life changes, priorities shift, and people grow apart. It’s not always about blame or bad blood it’s about timing. Give yourself and your former friend the space to breathe. If it’s meant to be, the connection might rekindle in the future.

It’s easy to fall into a loop of “What did I do wrong?” But instead of dwelling on the negative, reflect on what friendship brought to your life. Cherish the good times and recognize the lessons you’ve learned. Every friendship short-lived or lifelong teaches you something.

When a friendship ends, it’s easy to feel isolated. Reach out to other friends, family, or even a therapist to share your feelings. Surround yourself with people who uplift you and remind you that you’re never truly alone.

Friendship breakups are painful, but they’re also an opportunity for growth. They teach us resilience, self-worth, and the importance of nurturing the relationships that remain. To everyone who has lost a friend they loved deeply: It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to hold onto the memories. And it’s okay to move forward, knowing that the love you gave and the time you shared were real. Because some friendships are for a season, some for a reason, and a few, like roots, will hold you steady no matter what storms life throws your way.

MANUELA WENGER MANUELA WENGER

When SHE stepped onto the red carpet at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival, she didn’t just arrive; she owned the moment. With every step, she turned heads, her gown catching the light as effortlessly as her confidence captured the room. She didn’t need direction from the paparazzi; her presence alone dictated the shot. This wasn’t a debutante fumbling her way into fame. This was Manuela Wenger, a Swiss powerhouse whose journey is as riveting as the films she now stars in. We first met her near the African Pavilion, where her infectious smile and approachable warmth made her impossible to overlook. “I’m Manuela Wenger,” she said, her handshake firm yet inviting. Weeks later, she sat down with Her Voyage to share her story.

When faced with the quintessential question, Manuela didn’t flinch. “Not an easy one,” she laughed, “but I’ll try.”; Her answer? A tapestry of identity: “I believe in oneness; we’re all connected in different ways. I’m the second of four siblings, a farmer’s daughter, but I always felt like a square peg in a round hole. I’m an agricultural engineer by education and a woman with dreams and vision.” A pause, a smile, and then: “I think that covers it.”

Manuela’s story begins far from the glamour of Cannes in the Swiss countryside, where she grew up on a farm surrounded by nature, animals, and endless horizons. It was here that her dreams first took root. “I always knew what I wanted,” she said. Her first taste of the spotlight came with a farmer’s calendar project. Out of 300 hopefuls, she was one of 12 chosen. A moment that hinted at her future in front of the camera. But her love affair with storytelling started long before that. Manuela’s teenage years revolved around horses, particularly her best friend, an ex-racehorse named Golden Flame.

“He was my confidant,”; she reminisced. “Horses are incredible. They feel everything; they understand so much more than people realize.” When Golden Flame passed away, the loss left a void that still lingers.”He taught me about empathy, trust, and patience qualities that later shaped my acting.

Those long rides through the quiet countryside gave me time for selfreflection, which allowed me to recognize and embrace my own qualities and idiosyncrasies.”

When her equestrian chapter ended, Manuela chose an entirely new path. Moving to Zurich, she balanced a career as an agricultural engineer with acting classes and auditions. “It wasn’t easy” she admitted. “My family always assumed I would remain on the farm, to continue the legacy. But I knew I needed to follow my own path.” Her transition wasn’t without its battles. “You have to trust your inner voice,” she said. “Dreams are for the brave, and you can’t wait for anyone else’s approval. You just do it and thank yourself later.”

The Spotlight Beckons

Manuela’s perseverance began to pay off in 2024, when she gained acclaim for roles in Velo Gang and Follow Us #ICarus. Velo Gang premiered at the Oscar-qualifying Warsaw International Film Festival and went on to screen globally, from Beijing to Orlando. In 2025, she took her career to the next level, landing her first lead role in the Swiss feature film Cordula and securing a spot in another major production set to begin later this year. Her dedication to her craft shines through her rigorous training, which includes an intensive at Giles Foreman Centre for Acting in London, sessions with Seamus McNally (Orange is the New Black, Black Mirror) and Academy Awardwinning director Paul Haggis (Million Dollar Baby, Casino Royale).

When asked what advice she’d give her younger self, Manuela’s response was both tender and empowering:

“Don’t be afraid. Let your fire burn bright. Understand your power; only you know your full potential. Don’t act small, even when the world tries to shrink you. And most importantly, follow your inner enthusiasm.”

WHAT’S NEXT FOR MANUELA WENGER? WHAT’S NEXT FOR MANUELA WENGER?

As our conversation drew to a close, Manuela flashed a knowing smile. “What’s next? Keep chasing my dreams. Keep living fully.” From a quiet farm in Switzerland to the bright lights of Cannes, Manuela Wenger is proof that bold dreams belong to those who dare to chase them. Thank you, Manuela, for sharing your inspiring story with Her Voyage.

HYGIENE HACKS

FOR A HAPPY VJJ

We can’t talk periods without talking about hygiene. Here’s the golden rule: keep it simple, clean, and consistent. Swap the latest trends for timeless habits that’ll have you saying goodbye to UTIs and yeast infections:

*Post-Sex and PostPeriod Cleansing:

Wash with warm water to maintain balance. No harsh soaps or unnecessary products just water.

*Pad and Tampon Changes:

At home? Use water during changes to refresh. It’s a game-changer.

* After Bathroom Ritual:

After a number two, water rinses help keep things fresh and prevent infections. If you haven’t started this habit, now’s the time!

The Power of Self-Love

Periods don’t just impact your body; they touch your mind and soul. Before, during, and after your cycle, you’re evolving. Embrace it! Celebrate your shifts, moods, and power. Remember, a happy V means a happy life. Nurture your body and let the magic flow. Her Voyage, Your Journey Every step you take in caring for yourself big or small is a step toward empowerment. Let’s rewrite the narrative around periods. From pain to power, this is your time to shine.

LOVE YOUR V-JAYJAY IT’S

A GODDESS AFTER ALL

Yes, your V cleans itself (thank you, nature!), but happiness. A splash of clean water after your perio yet transformative. No fancy potions just water.

Ditch the Myths, Embrace the Joy

UTIs and yeast infections don’t need to be regular guests. Small changes like hydrating, breathable cotton undies, and avoiding harsh soaps can work wonders. A happy V equals a happier you.

Mind-Body Sync:

Periods shift not just our hormones but our vibes. Honor these cycles with self-care:

1. Warm compresses or heated blankets for cramps.

2. Yoga poses like child’s pose for gentle relief.

3. Journaling thoughts when emotions feel tidal.

So, dear reader, let’s rewrite the narrative around periods. They’re not a burden they’re your body’s power in motion. Own it, care for it, and let the rhythm flow freely.

Her Voyage – Because every cycle is a story worth celebrating.

THE SELF-CLEANING SUPERHERO:

WHY YOUR VJJ IS SMARTER THAN YOU THINK!

Let’s talk about her. The vulva. The source of life, pleasure, and endless wonder. Yet, she’s shrouded in mystery, myths, and way too many euphemisms. It’s time to ditch the taboos and celebrate your V with facts, love, and joyful care.

Fact 1: The VJJ Cleans Itself

(So You Can Stop Stressing)

Forget the douches and designer soaps your vulva is a self-cleaning queen. The natural discharge she produces keeps her balanced. What she loves? Simple, lukewarm water and breathable cotton underwear. What she hates? Fragrant products and tight, synthetic fabrics. Treat her like royalty, and she’ll treat you kindly.

Fact 2: Pleasure Is Your Birthright

Yes, you read that right. The clitoris is a magical organ with over 8,000 nerve endings, existing solely for pleasure. Yet, so many women shy away from exploring their own bodies. It’s time to change that. Get curious, experiment with what feels good, and embrace your sensuality. Your body is not just functional; it’s a vessel for joy.

(Let’s

Feeling shy about talking to your doctor or friends about your VJJ? Don’t be.

Vaginal health is as important as any other part of your body. Regular check-ups, knowing what’s normal for you, and staying hydrated are essentials not embarrassments. And no, asking questions doesn’t make you weird it makes you wise.

Pro-Tips for a Happy VJJ

1. Drink water like your life depends on it (because it does).

2. Wash with plain water after intimacy or a workout.

3. Respect her boundaries she doesn’t need scented lotions or oils. Let’s own our bodies, empower our minds, and normalize these conversations. Your vulva is not a secret it’s a celebration.

Because joy begins with self-love.

There’s something profoundly beautiful about writing to the girl you once were. It’s a conversation with your younger self, full of lessons learned, love given, and wisdom gained. These letters carry the power to heal old wounds, honor the journey, and spark hope for what’s still to come. We asked women to reflect on their past and share the truths they wish they’d known. Among the many heartfelt submissions, these three letters stood out poignant, tender, and brimming with the kind of love only hindsight can offer.

Dear Maria,

Just remember the soul of California raised you with its warmth, its grit, and its golden skies. You saw so much at such a young age, and though you grew up fast, inside you’re still that little girl who used to visit her grandmother in Mexico. Do you remember how you cried every time it was time to leave? No one ever asked why, they just hugged you tight and let you feel it. Now, looking back, you know the answer: it was the love. Your grandmother’s love was like a balm, poured into you through her soil, her food, and her arms. Her kindness made you feel whole in a way nothing else ever did. When she called you beautiful, it wasn’t just a compliment it was a truth she planted deep within you, one you still carry. Her advice stays with you even now: “Close your legs and open your mind.” It was her way of telling you to honor yourself, to protect your essence, and to lead with wisdom.

Dear grandmother, rest in peace. You were my first love, and I will always carry your lessons in my heart. Thank you for everything.

With all my love, Maria

Dear Joyce,

Hi, we made it! Can you believe it? Turning 40 once felt like a dream too distant to touch, but here we are proof that grit and grace can carry us through the unimaginable We went through hell and came back stronger, refusing to let destruction dictate our direction. At 18, you were a single mother, juggling diapers and dreams of becoming an engineer. You dared to hold onto that dream, even when the world seemed to bet against you. You didn’t run from the challenges you wet your bed and lay in it, owning every part of the struggle and the triumph. I don’t have much advice to offer because, honestly, you’ve done more than anyone could have asked. But I do want to say thank you for being brave, for loving fiercely, and for never giving up. Let’s keep grinding, Joyce. We’re doing just fine, and the best is still ahead.

Yours, Younger Joy, With so much love and pride

Dear Zoe,

I just have to laugh loud and unapologetically. If someone had told you 30 years ago that he was just a boy, a loser, and not the end-all-be-all, you’d have laughed them right out of the room. Oh, how wrong you would’ve been.

I can still feel that heartbreak from when Mr. Right (or so you thought) dumped you. You were convinced he was the only man in the world for you. But, girl, let me tell you you dodged the bullet of the century.

Have you seen him lately? Oh boy… a drunken mess with kids scattered across the map, and I’m not even sure he owns his own bed. Imagine if you’d stayed with him? Now, look at your life your incredible husband, smart and kind, the partner you deserve. It’s proof that the art of letting go will never steer you wrong. Thank you for trusting the process, for believing there was more ahead, and for letting life surprise you in the best way possible.

Yours, Happy and in-love Zoe

Thank you so much for sharing these heartfelt letters with us. Each one has been received with care, and we treasure the pieces of your past you’ve trusted us to hold. Among the many submissions, these three truly stood out, but every letter we read was a testament to the strength and wisdom women carry. We love this section and are excited to keep it alive! Please continue sending your letters to your 16year-old selves. Your advice, reflections, and stories don’t just resonate with you they have the power to inspire and uplift millions of women around the world. Send your letters directly to our editor at honey.aljabri@gmail.com. We promise to honor your words and share them with the same love they were written with.Until the next letter, keep shining, keep reflecting, and happy voyage!

Warm regards, The Her Voyage Team

More than a book it's your hair's new best friend.

This isn’t just a guide it’s a soulful, honest journey to healthy, thriving hair. Whether you’re transitioning, protecting, or just trying to figure it out, this book meets you at every stage of your crown story. Rooted in truth, love, and a little humor, it’s a celebration of self-care, self-worth, and the sacred rituals of hair

✨ Inside you'll find:

– Step-by-step care routines

– Hair journaling prompts

– Empowering reflections on beauty, culture & healing

– Practical tips with spiritual vibes Your hair isn’t a trend. It’s your testimony.

Cora Cora Cora Cozzolino Cozzolino Cozzolino

At 21: At 21: At 21: Owning

Her Voyage sits down with Cora Cozzolino, born in Kenya to Italian and Kenyan parents. Her talent redefines storytelling through her cultural roots and global lens.

The age of 21 is often a celebrated milestone, a time of independence, exploration, and embracing newfound freedoms. Yet, it comes wrapped in myths: the supposed prime of youth, worry-free and radiant. For Cora Adriana, this chapter of life is more than just a milestone. It’s a testament to identity, responsibility, and creativity. Born in Kenya and raised across East Africa, Cora’s journey took her from motherland to the cobbled streets of Europe at the tender age of 12. “Being raised across East Africa, I was immersed in soulful living and a powerful sense of community from an early age,” she shares. “My mother’s Swahili coastal heritage continues to influence me, instilling love expressed through elegance, warmth, and creativity.”

Identity, Identity, Identity,

Influence Influence Influence & &

When asked the simple yet profound question, “Who are you?” her response radiates depth:

“I am carving out a name for myself in a world of visual storytelling. I am a daughter, a woman shaped by the lands I’ve lived. My early travel experiences taught me to see the world with wonder and to carry out all the different stories and adventures with pride. They also gave me a sense of responsibility to share the continent’s magic with the wider world.”

Storytelling:

A Mission of Love and Legacy

For Cora, storytelling isn’t merely a career path; it’s a calling. “It’s not what you pursue, it’s why you do it,” she explains. Her aim? To ensure that when she rises, she drops the rope for others, pulling as many people along with her as possible.

“I believe many doors have been easier for me to crack open. Yet, I know so many people who are giving their best, but things don’t come as easily. I know I’m blessed, and I want to bless others through storytelling.”

Fashion as a Language In her world, fashion and storytelling are intertwined. “A piece of clothing can tell a story, highlight culture, and stand tall to add value to people’s lives,” she says.

“For me, fashion is storytelling both share the same path of connecting and binding cultures.”

We couldn’t resist asking for her top three rules of fashion, and her answers were as vibrant as her personality:

1. Color and Texture: 2. Avoid Trends: 3. Identity Speaks:

“Remember, everything has feelings.”

Instead, find a connection and feeling with your style.”

“Fashion is identity. Speak loud and proud through your style tell the world who you are.”

A Principle of Purpose

Cora lives by a simple yet profound principle: Your voice matters. “People’s dreams are possible,” she insists. Trusting one’s intuition and embracing one’s unique journey shaped by past experiences, culture, and heritage unlocks true power and purpose. Who is Cora Cozzolino?

A model, storyteller, and advocate for cultural pride and creative expression, Cora is a name to watch. With her luminous confidence and her mission to elevate others, she’s already paving the way for a legacy of love and impact. Cora, thank you for sharing your story with Her Voyage. Keep shining, queen you’ve just begun.

Let’s set the record straight Seattle isn’t frozen like Alaska or Canada. No blizzards or ice storms here. But when does it comes to its people? Oh, honey, the chill is very real. Locals call it the “Seattle Freeze,” and it’s less about temperatures and more about a polite-yet-persistent “stay out of my bubble.”

Seattleites are known for their reserved nature, often keeping newcomers at arm’s length. And before you blame it all on the rain, let’s dig into the fascinating (and sometimes frustrating) history behind this social phenomenon.

If rain were the sky’s tears, then Seattle’s skies would need therapy. The city is notorious for its endless drizzle and gray skies. According to Fox 13, Seattle ranks ninth among major U.S. cities for seasonal depression, and it’s easy to see why. Long, dark winters, short daylight hours, and damp vibes can sap anyone’s energy and their social ambitions. But does the weather actually breed introversion? Studies suggest it might. The Seattle Times revealed that 42% of locals socialize less than weekly, a higher rate of isolation than places like New York City or Chicago, where chaos breeds camaraderie.

Believe it or not, the Seattle Freeze isn’t new. This frosty phenomenon has its roots in the 1920s, when the city underwent a population boom and economic shift.

Social initiatives like Arthur Priest’s “Talk to Your Neighbor Day” were launched to warm up the city’s icy reputation. By World War II, local newspapers were already documenting Seattle’s reputation for unfriendliness toward newcomers.

Fast forward to the 1980s, and the rise of tech giants like Boeing, Microsoft, and Amazon brought a different kind of boom one that cemented the Freeze. As Seattle evolved from a bluecollar town to a white-collar hub, the social fabric shifted, too.

To be fair, every city has its quirks. New York City thrives on loud, blunt honesty (and shared subway trauma). Minneapolis offers passiveaggressive warmth (let’s do lunch…never). And Portland and Austin? They’ll welcome you with kombucha, quirky activism, and a whole lot of “keeping it weird.” Seattle, meanwhile, is a paradox. The Scandinavian reserve of its early settlers, mixed with tech-world hustle, has created a culture where politeness doubles as a shield. It’s not rudeness it’s just a preference for personal space over small talk.

Now, ladies, let’s talk romance. If you’re single and thinking about moving to Seattle, prepare yourself. The dating scene here can feel like trying to grow roses in the rain. It’s a waiting game until those gray skies turn blue and the garden finally blooms. In a city where connections are slow to grow, you might find yourself single a little longer than

Planned. But hey, that just means more time to focus on you, right?

After nearly three years in Seattle, I can confirm: the Freeze is real. But here’s the thing beneath the icy surface, there’s warmth to be found. Once you crack the shell of a Seattleite, you might just find a friend for life. So, is the Freeze inherently bad? Or is it just a different rhythm a city that prefers depth over instant connections, privacy over performative friendliness? Either way, whether you’re dodging raindrops or navigating social circles, one thing’s for sure: Seattle will always keep you guessing.

The Living Space

Because sometimes the way we place a chair says more about where we are in life than we realize. We talk about decorating as design. As style. As aesthetic.

But what if we reimagined it as therapy?

Your home isn’t just where you live. It’s where you cry. Where you bloom. Where you decide to begin again. So decorating isn’t just about pillows and palettes it’s about memory, intention, and healing in the form of fabric, light, and layout. Here are five ways to make your space part of your self-healing journey:

Skip trends. Keep what makes you feel. The candle you lit during a breakup. The mug that traveled with you. The rug your aunt gave you. Heal through belonging, not performance

Design not for who you were, but for who you want to be. Want peace? Choose soft textures. Want boldness? Add vibrant art. Use your space to gently tell your future: “You’re welcome here.”

Open your curtains. Sit in a sunbeam. Let your home feel held by light. Healing doesn’t always need candles and crystalssometimes it just needs a window, and a willingness to let in warmth.

You don’t need a big house. You just need a safe corner. A journal by a chair. A stack of books near a lamp. A throw blanket that smells like lavender. Little altars of peace can exist anywhere

Healing isn’t in how much you buy it’s in how much you notice. Move a vase. Wash your windows with music playing. Rearrange your art like a love letter to yourself. Let decorating become ceremony.

“I

want to walk into my home and exhale. I want every object to whisper you're safe, you're loved, you're becoming.” Her Voyage

So, you’re thinking of packing your bags and making a fresh start in a new city. Exciting, right? But girl, before you hit “book now” on that one-way flight, let’s have some real talk. Are you single? Because some cities will have you sipping wine alone on Friday nights wondering if “forever alone” is your destiny. In these 10 cities, dating isn’t just hard, it’s basically an extreme sport.

Pack your bags with extra emotional support, a Costco membership for those “treat-yourself” flowers, and maybe a lifetime supply of chocolate. Let’s dive in, shall we?

Why is it tough: NewYorkCity

The city of dreams, the city that never sleeps...and the city that will ghost you faster than a TikTok trend. There are just too many options, and everyone’s on the hunt for the next best thing. Plus, with sky-high rents, who has time for dating when you’re working three jobs to pay for a shoebox apartment?

Fact check: A 2024 Fetish Finder study ranked NYC the absolute worst U.S. city for dating.

Why it’s tough: Welcome to the land of Instagram filters and commitment issues. Everyone is so busy building their personal brand, there’s no time for real connections. You’ll meet plenty of gorgeous people, but good luck finding someone who isn’t “too focused on their journey” to text back. Fact check: Dating studies consistently place LA in the bottom tier for serious relationships.

Why it’s tough:

The Windy City blows…your chances of finding love. Between the bitter winters and the brutal honesty of its residents, Chicago’s dating scene is not for the faint-hearted.

Fact check Chicagoans socialize less than their big-city counterparts, making it a lonely landscape for singles.

Why it’s tough:

Ah, the infamous Seattle Freeze. Locals are polite, sure but don’t mistake that for warmth. Dating here is like trying to melt an iceberg with a candle. And if the gray skies don’t kill your mood, the social distance will.

Fact check: According to The Seattle Times, 42% of locals socialize less than weekly, and the city ranks ninth for seasonal depression.

Why it’s tough:

This southern city might charm you with its Tex-Mex and River Walk, but the dating pool? Shallow. Add in a family-focused vibe, and you’ll feel like the odd one out at brunch.

Fact check: Studies show San Antonio struggles with low dating satisfaction rates.

Why it’s tough:

Imagine a dating scene with minimal nightlife, fewer social venues, and nothing much to do. That’s Bakersfield for you. If Netflix and chill (alone) is your vibe, this is your place.

Fact check: WalletHub ranked it among the worst cities for dating opportunities.

Why it’s tough:

High rents, low dating satisfaction, and the constant shadow of NYC make Newark a tough sell for singles. Fact check: Studies rank it among the least satisfying cities for dating.

Why it’s tough:

Small-town vibes mean smaller dating pools. Combine that with economic challenges, and your Tinder matches will look…bleak.

Fact check: Demographic studies show high poverty rates and a low percentage of single adults.

Why it’s tough:

Sure, it’s beautiful but romance feels as rare as a sunny day in winter. The sparse population and high cost of living don’t help.

Fact check: Studies consistently rank Anchorage low for dating satisfaction.

Why it’s tough:

A tropical paradise, but not for your love life. Few social venues and minimal nightlife make it hard to connect. Fact check: WalletHub named it the worst city for singles.

Here’s the thing: Every city has its ups and downs. If you’re ready to brave these dating desserts, come prepared. Build a killer selfcare routine, make friends with the bartender at your favorite spot, and maybe, just maybe, your Prince Charming will show up… eventually.

Until then, girlfriend, remember: Your worth isn’t tied to your relationship status. Whether single, taken, or somewhere in between, you’re fabulous exactly as you are.

So, you got your dream job in one of the cities we warned you about. Maybe it’s New York, Seattle, or even Pearl City. You’re excited, you’re nervous, and you’re... single. Girl, don’t fret. Just because the dating pool looks more like a kiddie splash pad doesn’t mean your life is on pause. While you’re waiting to kiss your 40th frog and finally meet your Prince William, it’s time to date the most important person in your life: YOU. Here are five fabulous ways to date yourself and live your best life single or not.

Who needs a plus-one when you’re at the main event? Book that table at the chicest spot in town, order the tasting menu, and toast yourself. There’s no shame in your own dinner date. Bonus points: You get all the dessert!

Why wait for someone else to bring you blooms?

Head to the florist and pick out a bouquet that screams, “I love me.” Place them where you’ll see them every day and let them remind you that self-love is always in season.

New city, new adventures. Grab a map, hit up all the attractions, and snap selfies like you’re starring in your own rom-com. Who says sightseeing is only for couples?

Always wanted to try pottery. Curious about salsa dancing? Dive into the hobbies you’ve been putting off. Not only will you have fun, but you might just meet someone who shares your vibe.

Whether it’s journaling your dreams or penning that novel idea, channel your energy into creating something beautiful. Who knows? Maybe one day, your future partner will read it and fall in love with the person behind the words.

Dating yourself is more than a stopgap it’s a celebration of who you are. So go ahead, move to that city, slay at your dream job, and embrace the journey. Your prince (or princess) will find you eventually, but in the meantime, you’ve got a pretty fabulous love story to live.

Why Partner With Us?

Niche Audience¤ Women who lead¥ dream big¥ and love brands with purpose«

Multi¾Platform Reach¤ From print to digital¥ YouTube to TikTok¥ Pinterest to Instagram ¼weÉre everywhere she is«

Global Appeal¤ A fresh¥ inclusive voice for women across cultures¥ industries¥ and journeys«

Creative Collaborations¤ We go beyond banner ads« Think sponsored features¥ interviews¥ product spotlights¥ fashion editorials¥ and more«

Advertise With Us

Be Seen« Be Heard« Be Her Voyage«

Her Voyage Maga~ine is more than a publication itÉs a platform¥ a movement¥ and a growing global community of bold¥ brilliant women« We spotlight real stories¥ inspiring leaders¥ powerful brands¥ and trendsetters who are reshaping the world in style«

LetÉs Make Magic

WeÉre passionate about working with brands¥ founders¥ artists¥ and storytellers whose values align with ours¤ authenticity¥ empowerment¥ creativity¥ and connection«

Ready to advertise with impact¬

Media Kit available upon request

By advertising with Her Voyage¥ youÉre not just buying space youÉre entering a conversation that matters«

Why Partner With Us?

Opportunities Include¤

Love Across the Diaspora

For those navigating love within the diaspora, the journey is layered with complexities. Cultural expectations clash with personal desires, creating a unique dynamic. Arranged marriages may take on new forms, blending tradition with modern autonomy, as couples find their own paths.

Your Voyage, Your Love Story

Love is never one-size-fits-all. Whether arranged or autonomous, the beauty lies in finding what works for you. Explore, challenge, and embrace the adventure of love unscripted and entirely your own.

Her Voyage – Because every journey deserves to be written.

Every love story begins with you. Before hearts intertwine and futures align, there’s a path you must walk alone a journey to self-love, forgiveness, and growth. Here’s the advice you’ll one day look back on with a knowing smile.

Life will give you spring to bloom embrace them. Summers to bask in light soak it up. When autumn arrives, let the leaves fall without regret. And in winter, wrap yourself in the warmth of self-care, for those extra layers will keep your heart safe..

This is your journey. Write it with passion, live it with courage, and when you revisit these words, may they bring you a smile and a reminder of the beautiful, resilient soul you’ve always been. Her Voyage – Because the greatest love story is your own.

40 DAYS OF LOVE: A TANZANIAN

TRADITION OF POSTPARTUM HEALING

Giving birth is often described as the miracle of life a phrase so dazzling it can overshadow the raw, unfiltered reality of what comes next. Postpartum is more than sleepless nights and baby giggles; it’s a journey of rebirth for the mother herself, a dance of resilience, healing, and self-discovery. In Tanzania, this journey is honored in a way that feels almost sacred. They call it 40. For 40 days after childbirth, a new mother “Mzazi” is enveloped in a cocoon of care. Family members rally around her: aunties, grandmothers, mothers-in-law, and sisters-in-law. She doesn’t lift a finger. Showers? Taken care of. Meals? Prepared with love. Massages? A daily ritual.

This isn’t just pampering; it’s tradition rooted in wisdom. It ensures she rests, heals, and recharges. Perhaps most importantly, she isn’t left to navigate her emotions alone. In this circle of care, she has people to talk to, to laugh with, and, if needed, to cry with. It’s an unspoken, communal therapy a profound reminder that motherhood isn’t a solitary journey. Contrast this with the postpartum experience in many Western countries, where the pressure to “bounce back” is unrelenting. New mothers often find themselves juggling newborns, households, and jobs within mere days or weeks of giving birth. The loneliness can feel suffocating, and the silence around postpartum struggles can be deafening.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS ALONE.

Talk to someone a friend, a family member, or even a stranger online. Join a sisterhood that understands, whether it’s a local mom’s group or a vibrant corner of social media. Write to us here at Her Voyage; we’d love to share your journey and celebrate your strength. And remember, it’s okay to say “no.” No to expectations that exhaust you.No to pressure that drains you. No to anything that doesn’t serve your healing. Take moments for yourself. Walk in the woods. Watch the sunset in silence. Cry if you need to; your tears aren’t weakness they’re a release. Write your thoughts in a journal that will never interrupt you. And never forget: you are a superwoman. You created life, and you have every right to savor it, even if that means stealing time just for yourself.

To every new mother out there: you’ve baked the cake don’t forget to eat it, too.

De Lassalette

A Voice That Commands, a Story That Inspires

To have access to the truth is to hold the world in your hands

Who are you?

Three words. Simple, yet disarmingly profound. It’s the question anchoring Her Voyage’s August-September issue, and one that felt fitting to pose to Mayra De Lassalette a journalist whose voice carries not just news but the weight of stories that matter. Our first encounter was a fleeting moment in the bustling corridors of the Voice of America studios. I was rushing in to begin my show, and she was stepping out, her presence commanding attention even in motion. She greeted me with a casual “Morning.” I barely managed a reply before hurrying past, but her elegance lingered in my mind. Who is she? Months later, I made sure we became friends. Some connections are unexpected, others, intentional. With Mayra, it was both. Years passed, and though I admired her brilliance and grace, I had never asked the question that had sparked my curiosity the first time we crossed paths. Now, as her voice traveled through the phone line, connecting my Washington State to her Washington, D.C., I finally asked:

MayraWho are you?

She laughed softly, the warmth in her voice unmistakable. “Mmm... who am I?” she repeated, pausing as if to gather the many pieces of herself. “Not an easy question. I’m not just one thing. I’m a combination of many things.” Born in Angola and raised in Portugal, Mayra is a daughter, a mother, and a journalist a woman of layered identities, each shaped by her love for storytelling and a relentless pursuit of truth.

In the chaos of breaking news, I find my purpose: to inform, to connect, to empower.”

The Making of a Journalist Mayra’s journey into journalism wasn’t just a career choice; it was a calling forged in the fires of necessity. As a child, her family fled Angola’s civil war, leaving her father behind. In Portugal, the news became their lifeline, a thread of connection to the homeland they’d left behind.

“I still remember watching a journalist report from the City where I grew up, now destroyed by the war,” she recalls, her voice tinged with emotion. “I realized she had access to this story because she was a journalist. I wanted to be that person to have that access and to share it with the world.”

Her passion was born from a desire for information a thirst she describes simply: “Information is power.”

When asked if journalism is dying, her response is immediate:

“No. Real journalism is needed now more than ever.”

She acknowledges the shift toward digital platforms, a trend was not predicted during her university days when only two of her twenty classmates chose to focus on online media. “I was one of those two students” she added Now, every major media outlet has embraced the digital space, and while social media has democratized access to information, Mayra laments its tendency to monetize without expertise.

“It’s not about being first; it’s about being right,” she says firmly.

“Motherhood is not just about raising a child it’s about discovering your own strength.”

Motherhood¤

Motherhood brought a new dimension to Mayra’s life; one filled with unexpected joys and challenges. “Now I read e-books,” she says with a laugh, describing the creative ways she navigates holding her baby while indulging her love for reading.

But her tone shifts when discussing the weight of postpartum realities.

“After the joy of meeting my son for the first time, I felt a tidal wave of responsibility. It was overwhelming like carrying the world on my shoulders.”

Mayra is unflinchingly honest about postpartum struggles, emphasizing the importance of community and support.

“In Angola, as in many African countries, women are surrounded by care after giving birth. It’s a form of therapy an unspoken acknowledgment that motherhood isn’t meant to be faced alone.”

She contrasts this with the isolation many women face in Western cultures, urging new mothers to seek help, talk openly, and find sisterhood in unexpected places.

««« The Chapter That Changes Everything

A Trailblazer Mayra De Lassalette is more than a journalist. She’s a storyteller with a voice that demands to be heard, a mother navigating the beautiful chaos of parenthood, and a woman whose resilience inspires everyone she meets.

To Mayra: Thank you for peeling back your layers and sharing your journey with Her Voyage. You remind us that every woman carries multitudes and that within those layers lies a story worth telling

ÅIÉm not just one thing IÉm a combination of many things

The Art of Walking Away¤ Healing a Broken Soul

1. The Power of “No More”

There’s strength in saying, “This isn’t working.” It doesn’t mean you failed it means you’ve recognized what no longer serves your happiness. Like pruning a plant, cutting away the dead leaves makes room for growth and bloom.

3. Learn from Mauritania: Embrace the Empowerment

In Mauritania, divorce is not a scar it’s a second chance. Let that perspective inspire you. Walking away isn’t an end; it’s a fresh page in your story. Write it with bold ink and bright colors.

Sometimes, the most courageous act of self-love is knowing when to leave. It’s not about giving up it’s about choosing yourself when the world seems determined to make you forget your worth. In a powerful piece published in our sister magazine, People of Africa, we explored the inspiring perspective on divorce in Mauritania. Unlike the stigma often attached to divorced women worldwide, Mauritania views it as a symbol of empowerment and renewal. This isn’t just about relationships it’s about reclaiming your soul. So, let’s dive deeper into the art of letting go and find the beauty in starting anew.

2. Protecting Your Peace

Fights that lead nowhere, sleepless nights filled with tears, and a constant state of unrest these are the signs. Your peace is your most precious asset. Don’t let anyone rob you of it, even if it’s in the name of love.

4. Build Bridges Back to Yourself

Breakups and divorce can make you feel unmoored, but they also offer an opportunity to rediscover who you are. Take yourself on dates, reignite old passions, or try something entirely new. The road back to self-love is paved with little acts of joy.

Why It Matters

When a chapter ends, it doesn’t mean the book is over. Walking away is a declaration of your worth and a commitment to your happiness. You’re not just leaving something behind you’re moving toward a brighter, fuller future.

5. The Gift of Letting Go

Holding on to someone who doesn’t choose you is a weight your soul shouldn’t bear. Letting go is a gift to yourself. Imagine how light you’ll feel without carrying the heaviness of rejection or resentment.

The Kitchen

HER STOVE, HER RULESVoyage

A home is more than a shelter; it’s a sanctuary where rituals come alive, offering comfort, joy, and healing. At the heart of this sanctuary is the kitchen a place where culinary magic happens, and pantry staples hold the power to transform both meals and lives. From ancient traditions to modern practices, the kitchen has always been a sacred space. This article dives into the pantry staples every woman should have and their benefits not just for cooking, but for nurturing the body and soul.

The Kitchen

HER STOVE, HER RULES Voyage

The ingredients in your kitchen don’t just add flavor they tell stories, carry traditions, and hold medicinal power. Here are some must-haves for a pantry that nourishes both body and spirit:

1. Rosemary Why You Need It: Boosts memory and concentration, reduces inflammation, and adds an earthy depth to your dishes.

Use It For: Infusing oils, enhancing roasted vegetables, or even brewing calming teas.

2. Cayenne Pepper Why You Need It: Stimulates metabolism, improves circulation, and brings heat to your meals.

Use It For: Adding a kick to soups, stews, or detox drinks.

The Kitchen

HER STOVE, HER RULES

3. Cinnamon

Why You Need It: Balances blood sugar, fights inflammation, and delivers a sweet, warming aroma. Use It For: Sprinkling over oatmeal, spicing up baked goods, or enhancing hot drinks.

2. Cayenne Pepper

Why You Need It: Stimulates metabolism, improves circulation, and brings heat to your meals.

Use It For: Adding a kick to soups, stews, or detox drinks.

4. Cardamom

Why You Need It: A digestive aid that also supports respiratory health and adds a sophisticated floral note to dishes.

Use It For: Flavoring teas, curries, and desserts.

5. Clove

Why You Need It: Packed with antioxidants, great for oral health, and adds bold, warm spice. Use It For: Steeping in teas or mulled wine, or incorporating into savory meat dishes.

6. Mint

Why You Need It: Refreshes the palate, soothes digestion, and uplifts the spirit.

Use It For: Brewing tea, garnishing drinks, or adding brightness to salads.

The Kitchen

7. Ginger

Why You Need It: Eases nausea, boosts immunity, and provides a zesty kick to meals.

Use It For: Making tea, spicing up stirfries, or adding depth to soups.

8. Oregano

Why You Need It: Loaded with antioxidants and a natural antibacterial powerhouse.

Use It For: Enhancing pasta sauces, marinades, and dressings.

9. Turmeric

Why You Need It: A superfood known for its anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties.

Use It For: Golden milk, curries, and rice dishes.

10. Sea Salt and Honey

Why You Need Them: Sea salt provides essential minerals, while honey is a natural sweetener with antibacterial properties.

Use Them For: Balancing flavors, preserving foods, and soothing sore throats.

The Kitchen

HER STOVE, HER RULESVoyage

Morning Tonic: Start your day with warm water, honey, lemon, and a pinch of turmeric.

Herbal Infusions: Brew teas with rosemary, ginger, or mint to uplift and heal.

Flavor with Intention: When you cook, sprinkle spices not just for taste but with the intention to nourish and heal.

The beauty of a sacred kitchen lies in its ability to connect us with nature, tradition, and ourselves. By thoughtfully curating your pantry, you’re creating a space that does more than feed your body it nurtures your soul.

Her Voyage – Where every meal tells a story, and every spice sparks a journey.

From Spice to Soul:

There’s something magical about a good samosa, crisp on the outside, rich and spiced on the inside, and full of memory. In East Africa, the sambusa is more than a snack. It’s a story passed down through the hands of mothers, aunties, street vendors, and sisters. This version is bold, aromatic, and lovingly easy with store-bought pastry wraps and a heart full of heat.

East African Samosa

Serves: 4–6 | Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time:

15–20 m

Ingredients

1 lb ground beef

1 red onion, finely chopped

2–3 cloves garlic, minced

1-inch piece fresh ginger, grated

1–2 green or red chilies, finely chopped (adjust to taste)

1 tsp ground cumin

Salt and black pepper to taste

Fresh cilantro, chopped (a generous handful)

Store-bought sambusa/samosa wraps (or spring roll pastry)

Oil for deep frying

Instructions

1.Brown the Beef:

2.In a skillet over medium heat, cook the ground beef with a pinch of salt, black pepper, and half the ginger until the water evaporates and the beef is fully browned. Set aside and let it cool.

3.Build the Flavor:

4.Once cooled, mix in chopped red onion, garlic, cumin, remaining ginger, fresh cilantro, and chilies. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. The filling should be spicy, fragrant, and balanced.

5.Fold Your Samosas:

6.Take your pre-made wraps and fill each one with 1–2 tablespoons of the meat mixture. Fold into triangles, sealing the edges with water or flour paste.

7.Fry to Golden:

8.Deep-fry the samosas in hot oil until golden and crispy, about 2–3 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels.

To Serve:

Enjoy hot with fresh lime wedges, a side of tamarind chutney, or plain yogurt. Best shared with good company and warm tea.

I don’t know about you, but when I’m feeling a little cloudy or cozy, my pick-me-up is always soup. Any kind. Tomato soup. Butternut squash. Onion. Or even a simple red kidney bean stew. Soup has this gentle power it warms you up, slows you down, and somehow... resets everything.

Today, I want to talk about two soups I absolutely love both. Made from simple ingredients that are probably sitting on your counter right now. These recipes are not from a French chef’s notebook but trust me, they taste like they could be. Let’s turn those tomatoes and onions into something special.

COZY ONION SOUP

Ingredients:

Let’s be honest those big Costco bags of onions don’t wait forever. When life’s running out of them, I just make it happen.

Directions:

1.Slice all your onions and garlic. Shallow fry them in olive oil or butter until caramelized golden and brown.

2.Add your spices and the handful of raw chopped onion. Pour in the broth. Let it simmer until the onions are soft and thick.

3.Scoop into a small ovensafe bowl. Add toasted bread on top, sprinkle with cheese, and broil until bubbly and golden.

4.Eat warm, with a soft smile and quiet moment.

A mix of onions: sweet, yellow, white whatever you’ve got

Garlic (3–4 cloves, sliced)

A handful of raw chopped onions (for extra punch)

Spices: black pepper, thyme, salt

Chicken or veggie broth

Shredded cheese (Mozzarella, Gruyère, or your favorite)

Bread of choice (I love sourdough or baguette)

ROASTED TOMATO SOUP (MOOD-LIFTING MAGIC)

Tomatoes are like sunshine in food form especially when they’re roasted. Mix whatever you have: cherry, Roma, even a few sun-dried tomatoes for a deeper note.

Ingredients:

Cherry, Roma, and/or sun-dried tomatoes

Garlic (whole cloves, unpeeled)

Fresh basil and rosemary

Olive oil

Salt and black pepper

Broth of your choice (I use chicken or veggie)

Directions:

1.Roast your tomatoes, garlic, and herbs on a tray with olive oil at 400°F (about 200°C) until soft and bursting (20–25 mins).

2.In a pot, heat a splash of olive oil and sauté a little more garlic. Add your broth and roasted tomatoes.

3.Blend using a stick blender (or regular blender).

4.Pour into a bowl, drizzle with olive oil, and serve with crusty baked bread.

A Final Stir

Soup doesn’t need to be complicated to heal you. It just needs a little love, a little simmer, and a little time. So go ahead rescue those onions, roast those tomatoes, and let your kitchen become your calm.

THE ULTIMATE WOMAN’S THE ULTIMATE WOMAN’S SURVIVAL KIT: 10 MUSTHAVES FOR EVERY HANDBAG

WHAT’S INSIDE A WOMAN’S HANDBAG?

Is it a treasure chest, a survival kit, or a mystery box? To find out, we hit the streets of Seattle, Redmond, and Renton in Washington, asking 100 women the golden question:

If we opened your handbag right now, what would we find?

Their answers? Equal parts practical, empowering, and downright essential. Whether you’re a minimalist or a “kitchen sink” kind of packer, 1.these 10 items made the list and for good reason.

These 10 items made the list and for good reason.

1. Pads/Tampons: The Unquestioned MVP

First on almost everyone’s list, because we all know Aunt Flo shows up whenever she pleases no RSVP required. A pad or tampon isn’t just for you; it’s for the friend, coworker, or stranger in need. Carry one like the lifesaver it is.

2. Keys: Your Ticket to Freedom

From unlocking your car to your front door (and maybe even a diary?), keys are the OG handbag essential. Pro tip: Add a cute keychain it’s practical and makes losing them slightly harder.

3. Charger: Because Dead Phones Are So 2005

We live in the age of TikToks, texts, and Tinder swipes. A portable charger ensures your phone stays alive to keep your life running smoothly. Consider it the modern woman’s magic wand.

4. Lipstick/Lip Balm: Power in a Tube

A quick swipe of lipstick or balm can transform your look and mood. Whether you’re a bold red kind of gal or prefer something more subtle, having one on hand is nonnegotiable.

5. Safety Pins: The Silent Fixers

Wardrobe malfunctions? Solved. Broken bag strap? Fixed. Lost button? Saved. A safety pin is the unsung hero of the handbag world.

6. Perfume/Lotion: Smell Like Confidence

Nothing says I’ve got this like a quick spritz of your signature scent or a dab of hand lotion. It’s self-care in seconds, and honestly, who doesn’t want to smell like a field of dreams?

7. Pepper Spray: Safety First, Always

A handbag essential that says, “I’ve got your back, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Empowerment is carrying what you need to feel secure wherever you go.

8. Comb: Bad Hair Days, Be Gone

Wind, rain, or humidity your hair doesn’t stand a chance without a trusty comb. It’s a small but mighty tool that keeps you looking polished, no matter what.

9. Mirror: Reflect and Reassess

A compact mirror isn’t just for touch-ups; it’s also for those moments when you need to check if the spinach from lunch has overstayed its welcome.

10. A Notebook or Phone Notes App: Your Brain’s Backup

Whether you’re jotting down a grocery list, a groundbreaking idea, or a random quote that inspires you, having a space to capture your thoughts is invaluable.

Why It Matters

This isn’t just a list it’s a survival kit. These items represent empowerment, preparedness, and a touch of glam. Because when you’re ready for anything, you can do anything.

Her Voyage – Where every handbag holds a story, and every item is a step toward empowerment.

HER VOYAGEMAG

Love in Love in Love in

Transit Transit Transit

Love in Love in Love in

Transit Transit Transit

Some stories begin with a hello. Others begin with a misunderstanding. When Amelia, a Black American solo traveler, boards a luxury train from Pretoria to Victoria Falls, she isn’t looking for love just a moment of stillness, and maybe a soft place to land. But everything shifts when she meets Luca, an Italian man with eyes like stories untold, and a charm that lingers like perfume in the air. Their connection is instant. Quiet. Magnetic. But not without complication.

Because he isn’t traveling alone.

As the train glides across golden landscapes and through velvet dining cars, what begins as possibility becomes a question of timing, truth, and what we’re willing to risk for a stranger who suddenly feels familiar. They share one night. One unforgettable touch. And by the time Amelia is flying away, she reaches into her handbag and finds the letter. A letter she was never meant to read.

perfect stranger...

The air in Pretoria was alive with anticipation, mingled with the faint scent of freshly polished wood and the lingering sweetness of blooming jacaranda trees. The Rovos Rail, a vision of vintage opulence, gleamed under the golden South African sun. Its deep green carriages, trimmed with brass and gold, exuded timeless luxury. The scene was bustling with porters in crisp uniforms, guests clutching cameras and champagne flutes, and soft, excited chatter.

Amelia Blake adjusted the strap of her leather tote bag as she stepped onto the platform. At 5’7” with a striking figure that demanded attention, she didn’t need to try to turn heads. Her long braids cascaded over her shoulders, adorned with copper cuffs that glinted in the sunlight.

Dressed in a tailored white linen jumpsuit that accentuated her curves, she exuded sophistication and a subtle daring. Her brown skin glowed against the light, her big, expressive eyes scanning the crowd.

As her gaze wandered, it landed on him.

He stood tall, effortlessly commanding the space around him. Dressed in a well-fitted navy blazer, white shirt open at the collar, and tailored trousers, he radiated the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to admiration. His jet-black hair was swept back with precision, framing a face that could have been sculpted from marble sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a slight shadow of stubble that hinted at a rugged edge. His wire-rimmed glasses added a scholarly charm, but it was his smile, dazzling and boyish, that stopped her breath.

Their eyes met, and for a split second, the chaos of the station melted away. His gaze was piercing, as if he could see beyond her polished exterior, straight to the core of her. Her lips curved into a tentative smile, and he responded in kind, his mouth softening with something that felt like recognition.

Before the moment could deepen, a woman’s voice broke the spell. “Luca! Don’t forget my bag!”

Amelia’s heart thudded back to life as a slender brunette approached him, throwing an arm around his shoulder. She was dressed in an elegant floral dress, her sunhat tilted jauntily as she spoke in rapid Italian.

Luca’s lips quirked into a grin as he reached down to pick up her luggage, his attention momentarily diverted. Amelia exhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of her tote again as she turned toward the grand announcement being made at the platform’s edge.

A man in a tailored suit, the owner of Rovos Rail, stood on a makeshift podium. Behind him, the train loomed like a promise of adventure. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Pride of Africa,” he declared, his voice rich and melodic. “This train is not merely a mode of transport; it is a journey through time, through the soul of this great continent.”

Amelia moved closer, drawn to the man’s words and the magnetic pull of the train itself. The faint scent of leather and cedar wafted from the carriages. Inside, she imagined the plush velvet seats, the polished mahogany tables set with crystal glasses, and the vintage lamps that cast a warm glow reminiscent of another era.

As she enter inside the train, Amelia ran her fingers over the smooth woodpaneled walls of her compartment, the subtle fragrance of lilies mingling with the faint metallic hum of the train. She sighed and shook her head, trying to shake off the image of him. She knew nothing about the man except that he had a woman, who was probably counting her blessings to have him at her side.

"How lucky she must be," Amelia muttered to herself, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "And here I am, on the solo adventure of a lifetime, thinking about a stranger."

The gentle lurch of the train brought her back to reality. She turned to the window, watching as Pretoria’s bustling platform faded into a blur of golden hues, dotted with trees and small towns. South Africa was calling, and with it came the promise of discovery, of stepping out of her routine and into something new.

The room was smaller than she expected, a cozy single she had booked by mistake instead of the double she initially wanted. She laughed, thinking, Well, at least I won’t have to share the mirror.

She threw herself onto the plush bed, spreading her arms out wide. "I could be naked if I wanted," she mused with a grin. The thought made her giggle, a sound that echoed softly in the quiet room.

A soft rhythm began to rise in the distance drums, steady and enchanting. Amelia glanced at her watch. 6:30. Dinner was being announced in the most dramatic, Rovos Railway. The ceremonial drumming resonated through the train like an ancient call to gather.

Amelia stretched lazily before hopping up to prepare. In the compact but luxurious bathroom, she let the warm water of the shower wash away her fatigue. After toweling off, she reached for her yellow dress, its satin fabric shimmering like sunlight. Paired with sleek black heels and her favorite gold earrings, she felt every bit the radiant queen she wanted to be tonight. Her braids, freshly moisturized and styled, cascaded over her shoulders. She leaned into the mirror, carefully applying her makeup just enough to highlight her striking eyes and full lips. A spritz of her signature perfume added the finishing touch.

Amelia stepped back from the mirror, smiling at her reflection. She mimicked the voice of the Rovos Rail owner from earlier, waving her hand regally. "No cellphones, official dinner attire." She winked at herself. "Guess we’re here to create memories, not take pictures."

Satisfied, she grabbed her small clutch and stepped out of her room. The hallways were alive with faint murmurs of fellow passengers and the sound of soft piano notes floating from the dining car. Amelia felt her heart quicken not just at the idea of the lavish meal awaiting her, but the possibility of crossing paths with him again.

As she entered the dining car, the opulence was intoxicating. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over tables set with fine china and polished silver. Guests were already seated, their laughter and chatter blending harmoniously with the clink of glasses. And there he was. Luca.

Seated at a table near the window, his dark eyes flicked upward, catching hers. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. His lips curved into that devastating smile once more, and Amelia felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

Taking a steadying breath, she smiled back and walked toward her assigned table. Tonight was just beginning, and so, perhaps, was something else entirely.

After the exquisite three-course meal, paired with wines that tasted like bottled African sunsets, the Pride of Africa train kept its rhythm rolling steadily through the night as Amelia’s heart and Luca’s soul danced to the melody of perfect strangers.

The dining car buzzed with soft conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. Luca’s sister Sofia, animated and exuberant, spoke to him in rapid Italian, her hands moving as though she were painting the air with her words. Luca nodded along, his attention seemingly devoted to her, but every so often, his gaze would wander, searching, until it found Amelia.

Seated across the room, Amelia pretended not to notice. But her last sip of wine felt heavier than the others, weighted by the heat of his glances. As she placed her empty glass down, she stood with deliberate calmness, excused herself politely, and walked back to her room, her steps slow but purposeful. Inside her compartment, she exhaled deeply and smiled to herself. She reached for her diary, the leather soft and familiar in her hands, and began writing. Her pen moved tenderly across the page as she described him the man she’d just met, the man who seemed to have rooted himself somewhere between her mind and her heart. She read over the words, chuckling softly before pressing her fingers to the page as if to seal her feelings within. After brushing her teeth, she slipped into her soft cotton pajamas and lay down, letting the gentle swaying of the train lull her into sleep beneath Africa’s starlit sky.

By dawn, a cool breeze whispered through the small gap in her window, waking her softly. She stirred, glancing at the clock 6:00 a.m. Deciding that the promise of coffee was too tempting to resist, she rolled out of bed, slipped on her robe, and made her way to the lounge area.

The air was still, the car faintly illuminated by the early morning light. As she entered, she froze. There he was Luca, standing by the coffee station, holding two steaming cups in his hands.

Luca’s face lit up when he saw her, his smile as warm as the coffee he was holding. Before she could even manage a "Good morning," he blurted, "Which car are you in?"

Caught off guard, Amelia laughed softly, her voice still husky from sleep. "Good morning, stranger."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Good morning, perfect stranger."

They giggled together, the sound breaking the quiet of the lounge in a way that felt oddly intimate.

"I’m in the car just after the café," she said, pointing down the corridor. "And you?"

"After yours," he replied, his eyes sparkling. They stood there, smiling at each other, the silence stretching just enough to feel significant. Thirty seconds passed before they both broke into laughter again.

"You better go before the coffee gets cold," Amelia teased, nodding toward the cups in his hands. Luca glanced down at them and smiled. "Yep. And she’s...oh, sorry, see you around."

He turned to leave, his steps light, his grin lingering like a promise. Amelia stood there for a moment, biting her lip, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she watched him disappear into the corridor.

Her morning had just started, and already, the day held a spark of something extraordinary Amelia wasn’t in the mood for the dining car that morning. Instead, she opted for a granola bar from her bag and the coffee she'd managed to snag earlier. Sitting by the window, her laptop balanced on her knees, she opened her inbox to find an email from her boss in Washington, D.C. Work was a constant companion, even on this luxury escape. She sighed, replying quickly while the train hummed along the tracks.

Time slipped by unnoticed. By the time she glanced at the clock, it was nearing lunch. She jumped up, taking a quick shower before slipping into a red jumpsuit that clung to her curves in all the right places. A pair of chic flat shoes completed the look, and with her signature red lipstick and oversized black sunglasses, she could’ve been mistaken for a model straight off the pages of a glamour magazine.

As she stepped into the train's aisle, Amelia walked with effortless grace, each step echoing like a catwalk strut. She felt the presence of someone behind her, the soft rhythm of footsteps matching hers, but she didn’t turn around. Behind her was Luca, utterly captivated. Each sway of her hips, each confident stride, felt like an unspoken invitation to a private dance that only he could see. She was mesmerizing, and Luca couldn’t look away, his thoughts a blur of admiration and longing.

Amelia entered the dining car and took a seat at one of the elegantly set tables. Moments later, Luca appeared, pulling out the chair next to hers with a charming smile.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, his voice warm and teasing.

Amelia looked up, her lips curling into a smirk. She gestured toward the chair with a graceful hand, her smile all the invitation Luca needed.

"Perfect stranger," he began, leaning slightly toward her, "what’s your name?"

Amelia laughed softly, shaking his outstretched hand. "I think I’ll keep the 'perfect stranger' title. It suits us, don’t you think?"

Luca nodded, his grin widening. "Alright, Perfect Stranger. Nice to officially meet you."

The waitress appeared, and they ordered their meals. The conversation flowed as if they’d known each other for years. They talked about everything and nothing travel dreams, embarrassing stories, favorite meals. But neither asked the obvious questions: phone numbers, relationship status, or even last names. It felt unnecessary, as though naming their connection might break the spell.

Time passed too quickly, and before they knew it, the train began to slow for the first ground tour a safari.

As Amelia stood to leave, she caught sight of Sofia approaching from the opposite direction. Not wanting to create an awkward situation, she smiled politely and excused herself.

"It was wonderful talking to you, Perfect Stranger," she said, grabbing her bag. "I need to go change for the safari tour." Luca stood as well, his gaze following her every move. "See you then," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. As Amelia walked away, Luca watched her disappear down the corridor, already counting the moments until their paths crossed again. The air between them was charged, the promise of something undeniable hanging just out of reach. Sofia walked up to him, placing two fingers under his chin to close his slightly ajar mouth. "Dude, you’re literally dropping your face. She’s gone." Her tone was sharp, but her smirk betrayed her amusement.

"Please, not again. You promised me this trip is supposed to be just us. I hate when you start doing this," she added, pointing at him with an exaggerated flourish. "We’ve never had a proper brother-sister getaway without you falling in love with a stranger." Luca chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, come on Sof. That’s not true!"

Sofia arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "How about Spain? Ring any bells, Lupe?"

Luca sighed dramatically. "Spain doesn’t count."

"It so counts," she shot back, collapsing into her seat and eyeing the extra glass of wine he had yet to finish. "You didn’t even remember her name after that whirlwind romance."

They both laughed, but the train slowed to a stop, signaling their arrival for the ground tour. Sofia handed him her bag. "Carry this for me," she said, smiling sweetly.

Luca frowned. "Do I have to? What is it with you and these heavy handbags?"

She grinned. "Because when girls see you holding my bag, they’ll assume I’m your girlfriend. Consider it a repellent for your habit of falling for strangers. It’s for your own good."

Luca groaned but slung the bag over his shoulder, muttering, "If you weren’t my sister…"

As they disembarked, tourists bustled around, eagerly finding their assigned vehicles for the game drive. Luca glanced around but didn’t see Amelia. He mumbled an excuse and ducked into the restroom.

The air was fresh, carrying the faint mineral scent of Warmbaths, Bela Bela a town famous for its hot springs. Luca’s sister, impatient as ever, climbed into their car and saved him a seat. She glanced up, realizing he was nowhere in sight.

When she finally spotted him emerging from the restroom, he was too far away to stop the inevitable. Another passenger was about to take his saved seat. Luca spotted Amelia heading toward a different car and quickly waved to his sister, gesturing he’d ride elsewhere.

Sofia rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable," she muttered as the driver started the engine.

Meanwhile, Luca slipped into the car with Amelia. Coincidentally or perhaps by fate the couple assigned to join them had canceled last minute, leaving them alone.

Amelia noticed his sister’s bag still slung over his shoulder and burst into laughter. "I love your handbag!"

Luca laughed, shaking his head. "Women. Always making things complicated." She tilted her head. "What’s really complicated is why you’re carrying it in the first place."

"Forget the bag," he said, brushing it aside. "What made you take this trip solo?"

Amelia chuckled. "If that’s your way of asking if I’m single, the answer is yes."

Luca’s eyes lit up mischievously. "Are you sure?"

Before he could finish his thought, Amelia leaned in and kissed him. It was quick but confident, leaving Luca utterly breathless. His heart pounded like the drumbeats signaling a Maasai celebration.

Amelia pulled back, a teasing grin playing on her lips. "Oops. Did I just pull a 'me too' moment on you?"

Luca shook his head, leaning closer this time, and kissed her. This time, the kiss lingered, their connection deepening with each passing second. The driver’s abrupt swerve into a pothole jolted them apart, their gazes darting to the rearview mirror where the driver’s poorly hidden smirk confirmed he’d seen everything. They both sat back, flustered but grinning. As they neared the other vehicles, Amelia caught sight of Sofia. Guilt flickered across her face, and she turned to look out the window.

Luca leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. "This isn’t over."

Amelia laughed softly, shaking her head. "We’ll see, Perfect Stranger." For now, they let the moment pass, enjoying the wild beauty of the African landscape and the promise of what was yet to come.

After the safari tour, the train continued its journey, winding through the darkened African landscape. After the safari tour, most passengers retreated to their compartments, exhausted from the day’s adventures. The rhythmic hum of the rails lulled them into a quiet reprieve.

Amelia, however, was filled with a renewed energy. Dinner was calling, and she was determined to make an unforgettable impression. She chose her best dress for the occasion a long, flowing gown in a stunning periwinkle hue that clung to her curves in all the right places. The neckline offered a teasing glimpse of her décolletage, a subtle yet provocative invitation. She pinned her braids into an elegant updo, her face glowing with the soft shimmer of expertly applied makeup. Her black Christian Louboutin heels, with their signature red soles, were her finishing touch a statement of power and allure.

When she entered the dining car, the effect was immediate. Conversations paused, heads turned, and all eyes were drawn to her. But for Luca, time stopped entirely. He watched her from the moment she stepped in, unable to tear his gaze away. She was radiant, her presence commanding every flicker of the candlelight.

Sofia, seated beside him, was chatting animatedly, but her words were lost to him. His mind was elsewhere, spinning fantasies of how he might seize a moment with Amelia, away from the eyes of others.

Dinner was a luxurious affair, with courses paired expertly with fine South African wines. The dim lighting, the clinking of glasses, and the soft murmur of conversation created a perfect backdrop for longing glances and stolen smiles.

As people began to return to their rooms, the candlelight dimming with each departing guest, Amelia rose gracefully from her seat. Her movements were deliberate, her hips swaying ever so slightly as she walked past Luca, heading toward her compartment. He watched her leave, his heart racing, the primal pull toward her growing stronger with every second. After ensuring his sister was comfortably tucked into bed, lulled to sleep by wine and the gentle sway of the train, Luca slipped out of the room. His pulse quickened as he made his way through the train cars, knocking softly on doors under the pretense of searching for someone’s lost watch. When he finally reached her door and knocked, it opened almost instantly. Amelia stood there; her lips slightly parted as if she had been waiting for him. Without a word, she grabbed his hand, pulled him inside, and shut the door. Their eyes locked, and the tension between them snapped. Amelia leaned in, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both tender and fiery. Luca responded eagerly, his hands finding her waist and pulling her closer. The train rocked gently as they moved together, the motion mirroring their rhythm. Amelia’s fingers worked at the buttons of Luca’s shirt, her touch sending shivers down his spine. He slid the straps of her dress from her shoulders, the fabric pooling at her feet, revealing her luminous skin beneath.

The air was thick with desire, their breaths mingling as they explored each other. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word was electric. The sounds of the train the hum of the engine, the occasional whistle faded into the background. The only reality was each other.

Luca’s lips traced a path down her neck, his hands roaming her curves with reverence. Amelia’s fingers tangled in his hair, her head falling back as she surrendered to the moment. The world outside the window was a blur, the African sky scattered with stars bearing silent witness to their passion. Hours passed as they lost themselves in one another, their connection as deep and endless as the landscapes rushing by. When they finally lay entwined, their breathing steadying in unison, the train’s rhythm sang them into a peaceful slumber.

Above them, the sky glittered, the Southern Cross shining brightly a celestial nod to a love that was as fleeting as it was unforgettable.

Amelia lay wrapped in the soft sheets of her cabin, her breathing steady, her body relaxed from the intensity of the night. The rhythmic hum of the train blended with her serene slumber. Luca sat at the edge of the bed, gazing at her peaceful face. The night had been nothing short of magical passion intertwining with tenderness, their bodies moving in perfect harmony under the vast African sky.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She murmured softly in her sleep, and Luca smiled, his heart swelling with an emotion he wasn’t sure he could name. He wanted to freeze time, to stay in this moment forever.

But forever wasn’t theirs to claim.

Quietly, he dressed, the reality of their separate paths creeping back into his mind. Before leaving, he found a piece of paper on the desk. With the train swaying gently beneath him, he wrote:

DearPerfectStranger,

Thisnight,timefoldedinonitself,andwithinthosefleetinghours,weliveda thousandlifetimes.Theworldoutsidedisappeared,andinitsplace,youonlyyou becamemyuniverse.You’veleftanindeliblemarkonmysoul,oneInever soughtbutnowcannotimaginelivingwithout.Icameonthisjourneyexpecting landscapesandsolitude,butinstead,IfoundyouaforceIcanneithernamenor resist.AsIwrite,thememoryofyoulingerslikethefinal notesofabeautiful song,bittersweetandendless.Myheartfeelsbothimpossiblyfullandachingly hollow.Howcruelthatsomethingsoprofoundcanslipthroughthefingersof time.ButiffateshouldeverbringyoutoFlorence,knowthatIamwaiting. FindmeatViadellaVita,No.8astreetthattranslatesto“TheWayofLife,” fitting,asyou’vebecomemine…

folded the note and carefully slipped it into her handbag. As he lingered by the door, he whispered, “Goodbye, Perfect Stranger,” and left. Back in his room, Luca found his sister still fast asleep. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment with Amelia the touch of her hand, the way her laughter lit up the room, the way she looked at him as if she’d known him for a lifetime.

But as the train continued its journey, another memory crept in: his father’s laughter, his deep voice, the way he’d always known the right thing to say. The tears came before Luca could stop them. He pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs, his body shaking. This trip had always been about his father, about honoring a man who had given him and his sister everything. And now, here he was, caught between the past and the future, between duty and desire.

The Morning

Sofia woke to the muted hum of the train gliding along its tracks, the world outside bathed in a soft golden light. The first rays of morning spilled through the window, painting Luca in a glow that softened the weariness etched on his face. He sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the endless plains of the savannah, his eyes rimmed with the red of sleepless nights and unspoken sorrow. Without a word, she slid beside him, her presence a silent comfort. Resting her head on his shoulder, she whispered, “I miss him.”

Luca turned to her, his voice low and rough, as if the words themselves carried weight. “Me too.”

Their eyes met, a mirror of pain and love shared between siblings who had lost the man who had shaped their lives. Without hesitation, Sofia wrapped her arms around him, her tears spilling freely. Luca held her close, his own silent grief flowing between them like a river.

“This journey,” she began, her voice trembling, “it’s to lay him to rest, but it feels so much heavier than that.”

“It’s because it’s not just about saying goodbye,” Luca replied. “It’s about holding onto everything he was and everything he taught us to be.”

Sofia shook her head. “I don’t think I can go to breakfast. Or lunch. I just... I can’t face the world today.”

Luca nodded, his agreement unspoken but clear. He reached for his laptop, opening a folder that had been untouched for months. The screen flickered to life, revealing a home video. The two of them as children, running barefoot across their father’s garden, laughter ringing out like music. Their father’s deep, warm voice called to them, his arms outstretched in a gesture of love so profound it transcended the screen.

They sat together, the rhythmic sway of the train a gentle backdrop to their mourning. They laughed softly at the silly moments their father had captured, the joy of those days momentarily replacing the ache in their hearts. Then they cried again, their tears falling in sync with the rain that had begun to tap gently against the window, as though the world wept with them.

The train moved steadily onward, carrying them closer to Victoria Falls and the place where they would say their final goodbye. But in that morning wrapped in memories, in each other’s presence, and in the love their father had left behind they found something unexpected. Not closure, but peace. A quiet understanding that though their father’s journey on earth had ended, his legacy was alive in their laughter, their tears, and the bond that would never break.

And as the train cut through the golden landscape, the two of them sat in that cabin, letting the past heal their wounds and the present prepare them for what lay ahead.

Victoria Falls

The train came to a smooth halt at Victoria Falls, its final destination. Outside the grand windows, mist rose like a ghostly veil from the thundering cascade. Passengers eagerly stepped down, cameras and curiosity in hand, drawn by the magnetic pull of the majestic wonder ahead.

For Luca and Sofia, however, this was no ordinary journey. They stood together at the edge of the falls, the roaring waters echoing the storm of emotions within them. The spray kissed their faces, mingling with tears neither had the strength to hide.

Sofia held the urn close to her chest, her fingers trembling. She turned to Luca, her voice barely audible over the relentless rush of the falls. “Do you think he’d be proud of us?”

Luca’s jaw tightened as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “He’d be proud of you,” he said, his voice breaking. “You’ve kept us together, Sof. Through everything.”

Together, they unscrewed the urn’s lid, their hands steadying each other as they prepared for the final goodbye. The ashes danced on the wind before merging with the mist, becoming one with the falls that seemed to roar louder as if to welcome their father home.

Sofia collapsed into Luca’s arms, her grief spilling out in sobs that racked her body. He held her tightly, whispering words of comfort, though his own tears fell freely, carving silent paths down his face. In that moment, their bond as siblings was unshakable a lifeline in a sea of loss.

From a distance, Amelia arrived, her heart caught in a tangle of emotions. She had told herself she wanted to see the falls, but the pull to find Luca had been stronger.

Her steps faltered as she saw them. Luca and Sofia, locked in an embrace, tears flowing unchecked. A wave of guilt swept over her, a sharp, suffocating pang that settled heavily in her chest.

“I slept with a married man,” she thought, shame washing over her like the mist from the falls. Her gaze darted to Sofia. The way Luca held her, the intimacy of their shared grief it could only mean one thing. “That’s his wife,” she whispered to herself, her throat tightening. She turned away, unable to bear the sight, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She felt shame, yes, but also something deeper, something raw. The connection she had felt with Luca the night before wasn’t just physical. It had reached into her very soul, pulling something alive and vulnerable to the surface.

Amelia quickened her steps, her resolve hardening with each one. She found the first boat heading back toward the train station, her body trembling as though trying to shake off the memory of his touch, his voice, his presence. Her mind screamed at her to flee, to put distance between herself and a love that could only bring ruin. Yet her heart clung stubbornly to the moments they had shared, moments that had felt more real than anything she had known in years.

As the boat pulled away, she looked back one last time, the falls fading into the horizon. Her chest ached with the weight of her decision, and her soul whispered a quiet goodbye to the man who had unknowingly awakened it.

The Departure

The taxi bounced gently over the cobblestone streets, carrying Amelia away from the station, the faint roar of Victoria Falls still echoing in her ears. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass window, watching the vibrant landscape blur past. Her heart was heavy, each beat an ache she couldn’t shake.

She had made up her mind. She couldn’t face Luca again, not after what she’d seen. The memory of his arms wrapped protectively around another woman his tears falling freely played on a loop in her mind. She had felt something profound with him, something she didn’t know was possible. But now, that connection felt like an illusion, tainted by misunderstanding and guilt.

“Where to, miss?” the taxi driver asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“The airport,” she said softly, her voice fragile, as if even speaking might crack her resolve.

Back at the station, Luca looking around, his body and mind still raw from the emotions of the morning. He glanced around the platform, expecting to find her waiting, her warm smile lighting up the chaos around them. But she wasn’t there.

A small knot of worry tightened in his chest. He walked briskly through the crowd, scanning every face, looking for her. As the minutes passed and the platform began to empty, unease turned to panic. He approached a porter, his voice tight. “Have you seen the woman has black braids hair, wearing a light blue scarf?”

The porter frowned in thought before shaking his head. “Not sure, but maybe the tour guide can help.”

Luca turned quickly, finding the guide who had been with their group. “A woman I was with yesterday did you see where she went?”

The guide nodded sympathetically. “She took a taxi not long ago. Seemed in a rush, asked to be taken to the airport.”

“The airport?” Luca’s heart sank. “Did she say anything? Leave a message?”

“No, she didn’t say much,” the guide replied. “She looked…sad.”

Luca stood there, stunned, the world spinning around him. He felt an unbearable weight settle in his chest, a sense of loss he couldn’t put into words. She was leaving, slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

His mind raced. Who was she really? He knew the curve of her smile, the way her laughter warmed the air around them, the softness of her touch but he didn’t know her name. He didn’t know her story, where she was going, or why she had left without a word.

He sank onto a nearby bench, staring out at the horizon where the taxi had disappeared. The vibrant hum of the station dulled, and the lively chatter of passengers faded into an unbearable silence.

In the distance, the faint sound of Victoria Falls echoed, a reminder of the journey that had brought them together and now, the one tearing them apart. Luca closed his eyes, his head in his hands. The chances of finding her again in a world so vast seemed impossible. Yet, deep within, a flicker of hope refused to be extinguished. He wouldn’t let her memory slip away, even if she was already gone.

In the Sky

Amelia sat by the window, the hum of the plane a dull roar in her ears. Below, the vast expanse of the Atlantic shimmered like liquid silver, endless and indifferent. She rested her forehead against the cool glass, trying to silence the storm in her heart.

As she reached into her bag, searching for her journal, her fingers brushed against something unfamiliar paper, folded neatly, as if placed there with care. Her breath hitched. She pulled it out, her hands trembling as she assume this would be Perfect stranger’s handwriting.

For a moment, she stared at the note, afraid to open it, as if the words inside could undo her fragile composure. Finally, she unfolded it, the creases soft beneath her fingertips.

His words spilled onto the page like poetry, raw and unguarded she slowly she opens he lips and finish reading.

"Whatwesharedwasn’tjustamomentitwaseternitywrappedinafleetinghour. You’veimprintedyourselfonmysoul,andnomatterthedistance,Iwillcarryyou withme.Untilthen,carrymewithyouasIwillcarryyou.Always.

Eternallyyoursperfectstranger, Always,

Tears blurred her vision, each word carving its way into her heart. She pressed the note to her lips, as if by doing so, she could close the distance between them. The plane’s cabin felt smaller, the air heavier, as if the weight of her emotions defied gravity itself. Her chest tightened, a longing so profound it left her breathless. She whispered to herself, a name that now felt like a prayer. “Perfect stranger…”

Across the continent,

The luxury train sped toward Tanzania, cutting through the golden savannah under a burning orange sky. Luca sat by the window; his reflection ghostlike against the glass.

The ache of her absence was unbearable, like a wound he couldn’t heal. His thoughts were a tangled mess of regret, hope, and the memory of her the way her laughter had lit up even the darkest corners of his heart, the warmth of her touch, the way she had whispered his name as if it were sacred. He closed his eyes, the rhythmic clatter of the train amplifying the silence within him. She was out there somewhere, carrying a piece of him he could never reclaim.

Two souls, bound by a fleeting but eternal connection, traveled in opposite directions one across the sky, the other across the earth. Yet, the threads of fate rarely unravel so easily.

Amelia clutched the note tighter, her heart torn between the life waiting for her and the man she’d left behind. Questions swirled in her mind: What if? What now? What could have been? how about the girl?

Luca stared out at the fading horizon, his heart heavy but alive with a quiet resolve. He didn’t know her name, her destination, or her story but he knew one thing: he would find her.

Somewhere, in the vastness of the world, their paths had crossed. Somewhere, they would cross again...

Amelia stared at the letter in her lap, the words trembling in her hands. Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. She hadn’t expected honesty. She hadn’t expected… this.

As the plane hummed beneath her and clouds blurred outside the window, she reached for her phone maybe just to ground herself. A notification blinked across the screen

. 1 New Message Jordan

“Baby, you won. I can’t live without you. Let’s talk. I still love you.”

She blinked, heart cracking in two directions. One name lit her phone. The other still echoed from the letter.

What would you do if the goodbye came with a letter you were never meant to find?

Love in Transit

Chapter Two: The Text & The Letter

DearYou,

Whetheryoureadonepageorevery singleword, thankyouforbeinghere.

HerVoyageisaspaceforwomenwho arestillbecoming, stilllearning, still healingandstillsoft.

Mayyourpathbelitwithjoy, your heartstaywideopen, andyourstory alwaysbeyourown.BeforeYouGo... Whatwasyourfavoritepage? What spoketoyoursoul?

Writetous. Shareyourvoyage.

Email: honey.aljabri@gmail.com/ hello@hervoyagemag.com|IG: @hervoyagemag

Untilwemeetagain… Withlove, TheHerVoyageTeam

Next Stop: Oct–Nov Issue A new country. A new recipe. A new chapter of Love in Transit. And stories from women who’ve dared to start over.

Coming Soon.

HerVoyageMag Aug-Sep issue

HERVOYAGEMAG

The Rise of TheRiseof

Manuela Wenger Wenger Wenger

Editor’s Note

HERVOYAGEMAG

EDITORIAL: EDITORIAL:

The Many Faces of Womanhood The Many Faces of Womanhood

HER VOYAGE

When to Let Go and How to Heal

Think of your friendships like a tree:

MANUELA WENGER MANUELA WENGER

MANUELA WENGER MANUELA WENGER

The Spotlight Beckons

WHAT’S NEXT FOR MANUELA WENGER? WHAT’S NEXT FOR MANUELA WENGER?

HYGIENE HACKS

FOR A HAPPY VJJ

*Post-Sex and PostPeriod Cleansing:

*Pad and Tampon Changes:

* After Bathroom Ritual:

The Power of Self-Love

LOVE YOUR V-JAYJAY IT’S

A GODDESS AFTER ALL

Ditch the Myths, Embrace the Joy

Mind-Body Sync:

THE SELF-CLEANING SUPERHERO:

WHY YOUR VJJ IS SMARTER THAN YOU THINK!

Fact 1: The VJJ Cleans Itself

(So You Can Stop Stressing)

Fact 2: Pleasure Is Your Birthright

Pro-Tips for a Happy VJJ

At 21: At 21: At 21: Owning

Identity, Identity, Identity,

Influence Influence Influence & &

A Mission of Love and Legacy

A Principle of Purpose

The Living Space

Why is it tough: NewYorkCity

Why it’s tough:

Why it’s tough:

Why it’s tough:

Why it’s tough:

Why Partner With Us?

Advertise With Us

Why Partner With Us?

Love Across the Diaspora

Your Voyage, Your Love Story

40 DAYS OF LOVE: A TANZANIAN

TRADITION OF POSTPARTUM HEALING

YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS ALONE.

A Voice That Commands, a Story That Inspires

To have access to the truth is to hold the world in your hands

Who are you?

MayraWho are you?

Motherhood¤

««« The Chapter That Changes Everything

The Art of Walking Away¤ Healing a Broken Soul

2. Protecting Your Peace

4. Build Bridges Back to Yourself

Why It Matters

5. The Gift of Letting Go

The Kitchen

HER STOVE, HER RULESVoyage

The Kitchen

The Kitchen

The Kitchen

The Kitchen

From Spice to Soul:

East African Samosa

Serves: 4–6 | Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time:

COZY ONION SOUP

ROASTED TOMATO SOUP (MOOD-LIFTING MAGIC)

WHAT’S INSIDE A WOMAN’S HANDBAG?

1. Pads/Tampons: The Unquestioned MVP

2. Keys: Your Ticket to Freedom

3. Charger: Because Dead Phones Are So 2005

4. Lipstick/Lip Balm: Power in a Tube

5. Safety Pins: The Silent Fixers

6. Perfume/Lotion: Smell Like Confidence

7. Pepper Spray: Safety First, Always