CHAPTER 14
HLENGIWE
The weekend was a much-needed breath of fresh air for her. After months of feeling like she was drowning, she finally felt her head above water. On Saturday, she treated Balungile and Siza to a full day at a luxury spa. They spent the afternoon wrapped in white robes, moving from steam rooms to deep-tissue massages.
It was her way of saying thank you, a silent acknowledgment that without their hands holding hers, she wouldn’t have made it through the dark. They laughed, drank champagne, and for a few hours, the names Funani and Gatsha weren’t mentioned.
Sunday morning felt different. For the first time since the funeral, she found herself standing in front of the church doors. She had been so angry at God and bitter that He had allowed her world to be ripped apart. As the choir’s voices rose toward the rafters, she felt a small crack around her heart.
She sat in the back row, weeping quietly, trying to believe that there was a purpose for her pain. She isn’t fully there yet, but she is trying to trust that she is being led toward something, even if she can’t see the path.
Monday morning arrives with a different energy. She stands in front of her dressing mirror, brushing down her hair. She heads down to the kitchen, sipping a hot cup of black coffee while she double-checks her briefcase, packing her laptop and the notebooks she filled over the weekend. The doorbell rings, it’s Thabile. She opens the door and they share a quick hug.
“Hlengiwe! Look at you,” Thabile says, stepping back to look her up and down. “I must say, you look good for a widow. This glow is dangerous. If you aren’t careful, people will start to think you killed your husband just to look refreshed.”
She shoots her a star and Thabile’s smile vanishes, her eyes darting away as she quickly tries to fix the moment.
“I’m kidding, of course,” Thabile says, “I just mean you look strong. Now that you’re officially back in the seat, what’s the plan? What’s next for the Nhlapho empire?”
“Work, Thabile. Just work. I have a lot to catch up on, and I don’t intend to waste any more time.”
Thabile nods, “Well, we should definitely do lunch one of these days. A proper debrief, away from the noise of the depot. Just the two of us.”
“Of course,” she responds.
She opens her mouth to say something else, a thought about the missing phone but she catches herself. She stops, the words dying on her tongue.
Thabile tilts her head, her curiosity piqued. “What is it? You look like you were about to say something.”
She forces a small, soft smile, looking at her watch and adjusts the strap of her bag. “It’s nothing, just thinking about the traffic. We should probably leave if we want to beat the morning rush.”
GATSHA
The weekend had been restless for him. Ever since that encounter with Thabile at the wine bar, a low-frequency of irritation had been vibrating under his skin. He didn’t like the way she said, “I know.” It sounded too much like a woman who felt she had leverage, and he hate being leveraged.
He spent Saturday in his own apartment, pacing the floor, wondering if sleeping with the lawyer had been the smartest move he made to keep her quiet, or the dumbest move he made by giving her a reason to feel scorned.
On Sunday, he forced himself to go into the depot. The empty yard was the only place he felt in control. He walked through the rows of stationary trucks, his hand brushing against the cold steel of the trailers. He spent hours reviewing the DRC copper contract, memorizing every clause, figure and every potential pitfall. He needs this deal to be flawless. If Hlengiwe is going to be looking over his shoulder, he needs to be so efficient that her suspicion will have nowhere to land.
Monday morning finds him in the executive suite earlier than usual. He has fresh coffee brewing, and the scent is filling the hallway. He stands by the window, his sleeves rolled up, watching the gate. He watches Hlengiwe step out of her car, and even from this distance, he can see the change in her.
Thabile exits her own vehicle, pulling down her skirt. He walks from the window and meets them at the main entrance.
“Good morning, ladies,” he says, “You’re just in time. The coffee is fresh, and the briefing room is ready.”
Hlengiwe offers him a polite, brief nod. “Morning, Gatsha. I see the yard is already busy. That’s good.”
They enter the boardroom, and Hlengiwe doesn’t wait for him to pull out her chair. She takes the seat at the head of the table and lays her briefcase down.
“Before we dive into the DRC contract, I want a full breakdown of the last three months’ fuel expenditures and the maintenance logs for the Durban fleet. Thabile mentioned you’ve been doing a great job, and I want to see the numbers that back that up.”
He smiles, though his heart is racing. “Of course. I have the digital files ready for your review. I thought we’d start with the growth potential first?”
“Numbers first, Gatsha,” Hlengiwe says, clicking her pen. She looks at him over the rims of her glasses, and for a split second, he feels like she is looking right through his ribs, searching for the secrets he has buried. “I like to know the foundation is solid before I start building the roof.”
Thabile sits to the side, her eyes darting between the two of them. He clears his throat and opens the tablet. “Numbers it is then.”
NARRATED
The sun has long since dipped below the horizon, taking the golden dust of the depot with it. In the executive wing, the heavy curtains are drawn, Hlengiwe sits at her desk, but she isn’t working anymore. Her laptop screen has gone black minutes ago. She is simply staring on the far wall, her chin resting in her hand.
A soft knock at the door makes her jump, but before she can answer, Gatsha steps inside. He has stripped off his suit jacket and tie hours ago. His sleeves are rolled up past his forearms, revealing the tension in his muscles. He carries two coffees and a bag of takeaway.
“I saw your car outside and figured you must be hungry,” he says, “You can’t live on caffeine and spreadsheets, Hlengi. You’ve been in here since eight this morning.”
Hlengiwe leans back in her chair, a long sigh escaping her lips. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I just don’t want to go back to the house.”
Gatsha doesn’t ask why. He simply walks over to the corner of the office where a plush, low-seated lounge chair sits near a large Persian rug. He sets the food down on the floor and looks at her.
“Come on, get off that chair. My back hurts just looking at you hunched over that desk.”
Hlengiwe hesitates for a heartbeat, then stands up. She feels so much relief as she steps out of her high heels, her bare feet sinking into the thick pile of the rug. She sits down on the floor, crossing her legs, and Gatsha joins her, sitting close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from him. They eat in a comfortable silence for a while. The food is simple, but in the quiet of the office, it feels like a feast.
“Gatsha?” Hlengiwe asks softly, her eyes fixed on her coffee cup.
“Yeah?”
“Does it ever get easier? Going home?” She finally looks at him, “I find myself staying here because the depot still smells and sounds like him. That house feels like a museum. It was built for a family of four, maybe five. I walk through the rooms and I can hear the things we never got to say. I see the empty corner where the crib was supposed to go, and I feel like the walls are closing in on me. It’s so big and so painfully quiet.”
Gatsha sets his cup down and turns toward her, his expression softens. “I know,” he whispers. ” I go back to my place and I catch myself picking up the phone to call him. I see a truck with a bad axle or a new route opening up, and my first instinct is to tell Funani. And then it hits me all over again that he is gone.”
He reaches out, his hand hovering for a second before he gently places it on her shoulder.
“He loved you so much, you know,” Gatsha says, “I spent more time with that man than anyone else besides you. In the middle of the most stressful negotiations, when millions were on the line and the room was screaming, he would look at his watch and say, ‘Gatsha, we have to wrap this up. Hlengiwe is making that lamb stew tonight, and I’m not missing it for a copper contract.'”
A small laugh breaks from Hlengiwe’s throat. A single tear escapes and tracks down her cheek.
“He really said that?”
“Every time,” Gatsha smiles, “He used to tell me that I was lucky to be a bachelor because I didn’t have anyone at home waiting to yell at me for being late, but then he’d get this look on his face, this soft, proud look and he’d say, ‘But you’re missing out, Gatsha. Having a woman like Hlengiwe is like having a compass. No matter how lost I get in this business, she’s the North Star.'”
Hlengiwe leans into his touch, her head dropping slightly toward his shoulder. The weight of his words feels like a warm blanket. For months, she has felt like she is carrying Funani’s memory alone, but hearing Gatsha talk about him not as a boss or a partner, but as a man who was deeply, hopelessly in love with her makes the ice around her heart begin to break.
“I miss him so much,” she chokes out, the sob finally breaking through.
Gatsha shifts closer, pulling her into a tight hug. He lets her cry into his shirt, his chin resting on the top of her head.
“I miss him too,” he murmurs into her hair. “Every damn day. But he’s still here, Hlengi. He’s in these halls, he’s in the way you handle those books, and he’s in the way we’re going to make this DRC deal happen. You aren’t alone in that house, even if it feels like it. You have me. I’m not him, I know but I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Hlengiwe pulls back slightly, looking into his eyes. The tension in the room changes. For a long minute, they just look at each other, their breathing syncing up in the quiet office.
“Thank you for telling me that. I needed to hear it.” She finally says.
He lifts his thumb and gently brushes the tear from her cheek. “I should have told you sooner. I just didn’t know how to talk to you without making it worse.”
“You made it better,” she whispers.
Gatsha smiles, a tired smile that reaches his eyes. “Go home, Hlengi. If you want to stay here and work a bit longer, I’ll stay too.”
“I’ll get going. Thank you for the food.” She says getting up and picking her shoes.
To be continued
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