{"id":83,"date":"2026-01-21T14:36:09","date_gmt":"2026-01-21T14:36:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/?p=83"},"modified":"2026-01-21T14:36:09","modified_gmt":"2026-01-21T14:36:09","slug":"uguluva-chapter-13","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/uguluva-chapter-13\/","title":{"rendered":"uGULUVA Chapter 13"},"content":{"rendered":"
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uGULUVA.<\/div>\n
CHAPTER 13.<\/div>\n
[SPONSORED CHAPTER. \"\u2728\ufe0f\"<\/span>]<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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PHINDILE GWALA.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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It’s been a week and a half since my \u201ctraining\u201d of being his girlfriend started, and honestly\u2026 nothing exciting has happened. Today is Wednesday, the day before we depart for the anniversary event. I\u2019m at his house, sitting on the edge of the cream sofa, scrolling absentmindedly on my phone while he\u2019s in his office, fiddling with what he called \u201csomething small.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I sent Nobantu R500 last week for Ma\u2019s medication and haven\u2019t heard a thing since. Knowing Nobantu, she probably spent the money on herself and is now planning her next request. But this time? She has it wrong. I\u2019m not giving in. The quiet hum of the house is comforting yet unsettling. My thoughts wander\u2014about Ma, about the arrangement I\u2019ve been thrust into, and about him. I don\u2019t dare think too much; I\u2019ve learned how quickly my mind can betray me around him.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cThank you for waiting, MaP.\u201d His voice cuts through my thoughts, smooth and low, startling me.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cNcanezwe,\u201d I murmur, clearing my throat and forcing my attention back to him. He steps into the living area, straightening his cufflinks, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI hope you weren\u2019t getting too bored,\u201d he says, casually leaning against the doorway.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cNot at all,\u201d I lie, though my fingers fidget with the edge of my sleeve. \u201cJust\u2026 thinking.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning mine like he knows exactly what I\u2019m thinking\u2014which, given Ncanezwe Cele, is probably true. He steps closer, each movement deliberate, and I feel the subtle shift in the air around us.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI see,\u201d he says softly, almost amused. \u201cWell, thinking is allowed. Just don\u2019t think too much about me. It can be\u2026 distracting.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Distracting. Him? Yeah, right.I nod, though my heart does a small, traitorous skip.<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll try,\u201d I whisper, careful to keep my voice steady.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He smirks, clearly amused by my attempt at composure.<\/div>\n
\u201cGood girl,\u201d he says, almost lazily, before walking past me and picking up a sleek black folder from the table. I follow his movements, pretending not to watch, but my eyes betray me. Every small gesture of his feels deliberate, commanding.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cJust finishing some things before we leave tomorrow,\u201d he continues, flipping the folder open. His voice softens slightly, almost casual. \u201cYou don\u2019t need to worry about a thing. Everything will be perfect.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I want to say something, anything, but the words get stuck. There\u2019s this strange mix of comfort and tension in the room\u2014like I\u2019m safe, yet on the edge of a precipice. And I don\u2019t know whether to step back or lean closer.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cMaP,\u201d he says suddenly, and I snap my attention back to him. \u201cCome here.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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My stomach tightens as I rise, walking slowly toward him. He doesn\u2019t move, just watches me, and the weight of his gaze makes my skin prickle. When I reach him, he closes the folder with a soft snap and looks down at me, his expression unreadable.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cYou\u2019re learning quickly,\u201d he says. \u201cBut remember\u2026 this isn\u2019t a game. There are rules, and if you break them\u2026\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He trails off, letting the threat hang in the air. I shiver, but not from fear\u2014there\u2019s something else in the tension, something that makes my chest feel tight.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI won\u2019t,\u201d I whisper.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He leans slightly closer, just enough for me to catch the faint scent of his cologne. It\u2019s subtle, expensive, and intoxicating.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cGood. I like that about you.\u201d<\/div>\n
I clear my throat again, trying to regain my composure, though my heart is hammering in my chest.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cThen\u2026 shall we go over the itinerary for tomorrow?\u201d I ask, forcing a shift to something practical.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He smirks, a slow, knowing curl of his lips.<\/div>\n
\u201cWe will. But first\u2026 coffee. I think you deserve it after all that\u2026 thinking.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
I allow myself a small, almost imperceptible smile. And just like that, the tension in the room softens\u2026 though I know it\u2019s only temporary. With Ncanezwe Cele, nothing ever stays soft for long.I follow him into the kitchen, trying to ignore the way my heart still races.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He\u2019s already pouring two cups of coffee, the steam curling up between us. The aroma is rich, dark\u2026 and somehow it feels heavier with him standing so close.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cBlack?\u201d he asks, handing me a cup. I nod, fingers brushing his briefly as I take it. The contact is electric, though he doesn\u2019t flinch, doesn\u2019t comment. Just watches me with those calculating eyes that always seem one step ahead. We move to the living area, coffee in hand, and he gestures for me to sit. I perch on the edge of the sofa, careful to keep my posture \u201cappropriate,\u201d whatever that means in this strange, orchestrated relationship.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cSo,\u201d he says, voice low and smooth, \u201cwe leave later today. By the time we arrive, I want you settled and ready. The anniversary event is Saturday night, so the days before it are for preparation. Outfits, demeanor\u2026 everything. People notice everything.\u201d<\/div>\n
I nod again, trying not to fidget.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI understand. I\u2019ll do my best.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cYou always do,\u201d he replies, and the words feel\u2026 heavier than praise. There\u2019s an unspoken weight to them, a reminder that nothing with him is just casual. Not a glance, not a word, not a gesture.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I take a careful sip of my coffee, grateful for the warm liquid as I try to steady my nerves.<\/div>\n
\u201cI just\u2026 want to make sure I don\u2019t embarrass you,\u201d I admit quietly.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He leans back, studying me with that inscrutable expression of his. \u201cEmbarrass me?\u201d he repeats, the words almost teasing. \u201cMaP\u2026 you could never embarrass me. Not in front of anyone. But you\u2026 might make me\u2026 distracted.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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My breath catches at the soft, dangerous edge in his voice. Distracted. Me? I shake my head slightly, trying to push down the flutter of excitement\u2014and fear\u2014that rises in my chest.<\/div>\n
He smirks, a slow, knowing curl of his lips.<\/div>\n
\u201cDrink your coffee,\u201d he says casually, though the weight behind his eyes says otherwise.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cWe leave later tomorrow. Make sure you\u2019re ready. And\u2026 relaxed.\u201d<\/div>\n
Relaxed. Right. I glance down at my cup, the liquid shaking slightly in my hands. Relaxed around him\u2026 when every fiber of me is alert. When even the simplest movement feels like a performance.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I manage a small, crooked smile.<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll try.\u201d<\/div>\n
He doesn\u2019t answer, just leans back, eyes fixed on me with that unreadable intensity. And I realize, as I sit there sipping my coffee, that this week and a half of \u201ctraining\u201d has changed something. Not just in me\u2026 but in the way I notice him.<\/div>\n
And the thought makes my chest tighten in a way I can\u2019t control.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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*<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Her training hadn\u2019t been grueling\u2014not in the traditional sense. She was teaching herself, methodical and meticulous, flipping through the file he had handed her, memorizing every name, every detail of his family. Important people. Dangerous people. And that diligence\u2026 that focus\u2026 was what always made him hard whenever he caught her in the act.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He watches her lift the coffee cup to her lips, the morning sun catching the curve of her jaw, the way her fingers linger around the handle. Something stirs inside him\u2014a tug he immediately shoves down. He doesn\u2019t do feelings. Feelings are a liability.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cRemember my brothers, MaNzimande,\u201d he says, his voice low and deliberate.She nods, setting her cup down carefully.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cAfter you finish your coffee,\u201d he continues, \u201cMK is waiting for you outside.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She glances up, surprised at the sudden reminder of the schedule, but before she can reply, he adds, his tone softer but commanding:<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI also booked you a salon appointment. You\u2019re going to get your nails done, your hair touched up\u2026 and after that, a waxing appointment. I want you looking\u2014\u201d he pauses, letting the word hang, \u201cexactly like you belong in my world.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Phindile swallows, heat rising to her cheeks. She doesn\u2019t know whether to feel flattered or intimidated. Ncanezwe Cele has a way of making even the simplest instructions feel like orders that matter more than life itself.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She gives him a small nod, trying to mask her nervous excitement.<\/div>\n
\u201cGood,\u201d he says, standing. \u201cMK won\u2019t wait forever. Move.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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As she follows him out, her mind races\u2014not just with the appointments ahead, but with the awareness that every small gesture, every careful movement, is being watched, measured, and\u2026 appreciated, in a way that makes her pulse quicken.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
By the time Phindile steps out of the salon, the afternoon sun drapes the streets in a warm glow. Her burgundy goddess braids fall perfectly around her face, and her pink-nude nails catch the light with every subtle movement. She sends Ncanezwe a quick text, letting him know she\u2019s done.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI\u2019m waiting,\u201d comes his reply almost immediately.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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When she reaches the car, she freezes for a heartbeat. He\u2019s behind the wheel himself\u2014a rare sight. The car smells faintly of leather and his cologne, a combination that always sets her senses on edge. She slides into the passenger seat, careful not to brush against him\u2026 though the moment she does, the air between them thickens.<\/div>\n
Ncanezwe shifts in his seat, his gaze falling on her. The effect is instantaneous and disorienting.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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The way the sunlight hits her hair, the careful posture she maintains, the confidence she carries even in small things\u2014it hits him harder than he expects. A surge of heat courses through him, sharp, undeniable, and completely unwelcome.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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He clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the road. Discipline. Control. Those are the rules. He isn\u2019t supposed to feel this. He isn\u2019t supposed to\u2026 notice her like this.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cYou\u2026 look different,\u201d he finally mutters, his voice low, carefully neutral, though the edge of something else lingers under the surface.<\/div>\n
\u201cGood\u2026 different.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Phindile tilts her head, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. She feels it too\u2014the charge in the car, thick and dangerous\u2014but she keeps her composure, folding her hands neatly on her lap.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI\u2019m ready,\u201d she says softly, calm and steady, though every nerve in her body is alert.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Ncanezwe inhales sharply through his nose, gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. Every glance at her, every subtle movement, feels like a challenge to his control\u2014and yet, one he can\u2019t resist noticing.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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The ride is quiet, but the tension is tangible, simmering like electricity between them. Neither speaks again, but neither can ignore it. Every moment in the car feels like a careful game of restraint and awareness, a dangerous balance of desire and discipline.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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*<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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100+ comments & 10 shares. \"\ud83d\udc8b\"<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

uGULUVA. CHAPTER 13. [SPONSORED CHAPTER. ] PHINDILE GWALA. It’s been a week and a half since my \u201ctraining\u201d of being […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-83","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uguluva"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/83","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=83"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/83\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":97,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/83\/revisions\/97"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=83"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=83"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=83"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}