{"id":92,"date":"2026-01-21T14:37:52","date_gmt":"2026-01-21T14:37:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/?p=92"},"modified":"2026-01-21T14:37:52","modified_gmt":"2026-01-21T14:37:52","slug":"uguluva-chapter-22","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/uguluva-chapter-22\/","title":{"rendered":"uGULUVA Chapter 22"},"content":{"rendered":"
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uGULUVA.<\/div>\n
CHAPTER 22.<\/div>\n
[SPONSORED CHAPTER. \"\u2728\ufe0f\"<\/span>]<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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NCANEZWE CELE.<\/div>\n
I would be lying if I said I slept\u2014not even a single drop. It\u2019s 03:00 a.m., and I requested a cab about five minutes ago. My phone vibrates just as impatience settles in my chest.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I\u2019m outside, sir.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I release a slow breath, grab my jacket, and walk out of the hotel room without looking back. The corridor is quiet, the kind of quiet that makes your thoughts louder. The lift ride down feels longer than it should, my reflection in the mirror staring back at me\u2014eyes sharp, jaw tight, mind far from calm. Outside, the cold air slaps some sense into me. I slide into the back of the cab, murmuring the address, and the driver pulls off smoothly. Dubai at this hour is a different beast\u2014empty roads, dim streetlights, secrets tucked into shadows.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes, but she\u2019s there immediately. Phindile. The way her breath hitched when I leaned too close. The way her body betrayed her before her mouth ever could. That scent\u2014warm, soft, dangerous\u2014still clings to my senses like it\u2019s branded itself into me.<\/div>\n
This is madness, I tell myself.<\/div>\n
She is not mine. She is part of a plan, a story we are selling to the world. Nothing more.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Yet my body doesn\u2019t listen.<\/div>\n
The cab turns into the quiet street near the housing, slowing down as if even the driver understands the hour demands respect. I look at the last messages I sent her.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I will be back by 03:30 just to make our story more convincing, Mamacita.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I swallow hard at my own words. Convincing who, exactly? The world\u2026 or myself? The cab comes to a stop a short distance away. I pay the driver and step out, adjusting my jacket as I walk the rest of the way. The gate creaks as I stand in front of it, well thanks to MK. Lights are off. The house is asleep.<\/div>\n
Not the kind of sleep that\u2019s light and restless, but the heavy kind\u2014walls settled, floors quiet, air holding its breath. I stand there for a moment with my hand on the door, listening. Nothing. No footsteps. No voices. Just the low hum of night. I push the door open slowly.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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It gives way without complaint, and I step inside, closing it behind me with care. The darkness wraps around me as I move through the passage, my steps measured, deliberate. I know this house well enough now to walk it blind, but tonight I\u2019m careful anyway. Some instinct tells me not to disturb the stillness.<\/div>\n
The stairs creak softly beneath my weight as I climb them. One step. Then another. Every sound feels louder than it should be, like the night is paying attention.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Her door is at the end of the passage. I stop there for a second longer than necessary, staring at it. There\u2019s something about crossing that threshold\u2014like stepping into something I shouldn\u2019t linger in for too long. Eventually, I push it open. The room greets me in silver.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Moonlight spills through the curtains, casting soft lines across the bed. She\u2019s lying on her side, face turned toward the window, lashes resting against her cheeks. Peaceful. Unguarded. The sight pulls a smirk from me before I can stop it.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Deep sleeper, I think.<\/div>\n
I step further in, careful again. She doesn\u2019t move. Not even a twitch. For a moment, I just stand there watching her breathe, slow and even, as if the world hasn\u2019t touched her tonight.<\/div>\n
Then I reach for the switch.<\/div>\n
The light clicks on. Her eyes flutter open almost immediately. So much for deep sleep. She blinks once, then again, adjusting to the light. Her gaze finds mine, unfocused but familiar. Too familiar.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cNca?\u201d Her voice is soft, thick with sleep, and it rolls through me like a quiet curse. It hits my chest first, then settles lower. I clench my jaw. F-uck.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cIt\u2019s me, mamacita,\u201d I say, keeping my tone steady. Casual. Controlled. I shrug out of my jacket, letting it slide from my shoulders. \u201cGo back to sleep. I\u2019ll take the couch.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She hums in response\u2014not quite a word, not quite a sound. Just acknowledgment. Acceptance.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Her eyes close again as if I were never anything more than part of the room. I turn away before I can think too much about that.<\/div>\n
My shoes come off quietly near the door. I pull my shirt over my head, the fabric clinging for a second before releasing me. The room suddenly feels warmer, heavier. I leave my pants on, like a boundary I\u2019m not ready to cross\u2014even in my own head.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I glance back at her once more. She hasn\u2019t moved. Still breathing evenly. Still asleep. Or pretending well enough. The balcony door slides open with a soft sound, and the cool night air greets me like a slap of clarity. I step outside, leaning against the railing as I pull out a cigarette. The city lights flicker in the distance, indifferent to whatever storm is brewing inside me.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I light up and inhale slowly. The smoke fills my lungs, steadies my thoughts\u2014but not enough. Behind me, through the glass, she sleeps. Or rests. Or waits. I don\u2019t know which one unsettles me more. I exhale into the morning and stare up at the sky.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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*<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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THE MORNING.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Phindile slowly opens her eyes, her senses waking before her thoughts. Strong arms are wrapped around her, her head resting against a firm chest. She inhales softly\u2014and the scent tells her everything.<\/div>\n
Him.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Her brows knit faintly as awareness settles in. When did he get back? She shifts slightly, and Ncanezwe feels it immediately. He loosens his hold, though he has been awake for a long while now. He had woken before dawn and chosen not to move, wanting only to feel her there\u2014how naturally she fit against him, how peaceful it made him feel. He hadn\u2019t expected her to wake this early.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cMorning,\u201d he says quietly, sitting up and stepping off the bed, the sudden space between them making the moment feel awkward.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Yet even as he moves away, the warmth lingers. He had felt at peace with her tucked safely between his arms. He walks away slowly, movements deliberate, and settles on the top of the couch, leaning back with a calm, controlled presence. Phindile sits up straighter in bed, suddenly aware of her body, the lingering closeness still heating her skin. Morning light streams through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the room, highlighting the quiet intimacy lingering between them.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cMorning,\u201d she murmurs, her voice slightly breathless as she glances toward him. The simple greeting feels heavier than usual, laden with unspoken thoughts and the memory of last night.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Ncanezwe clears his throat, low and deliberate. \u201cI\u2026 I apologise if I made you uncomfortable,\u201d he says, eyes meeting hers for a fraction of a second before looking away, betraying a hint of unease.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Phindile freezes for a moment, taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. She had been shocked at how close he held her, the way his body seemed to claim the space beside hers\u2014but instead of fear, she feels something else: a curious sense of safety she hadn\u2019t expected.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cUh\u2026 no problem,\u201d she answers softly, voice tinged with surprise and something else she doesn\u2019t quite name. She swings her legs over the edge of the bed, the soft fabric of her short pajamas brushing against her skin, making her hyper-aware of the electricity in the air.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Ncanezwe\u2019s gaze lingers on her, unflinching, making warmth creep up her neck. She can almost feel the intensity of his stare tracing her movements without touching. Even across the room, a magnetic pull seems to bridge the distance between them.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Phindile rises from the bed, careful but conscious of every subtle movement, each one catching his attention. She walks toward the bathroom door, thoughts a mixture of embarrassment, anticipation, and something she\u2019s reluctant to admit: desire. Every step feels amplified under his watchful eyes, and she feels heat rise instinctively, betraying her composure.<\/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 22. [SPONSORED CHAPTER. ] NCANEZWE CELE. I would be lying if I said I slept\u2014not even a single […]<\/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-92","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uguluva"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/92","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=92"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/92\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":106,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/92\/revisions\/106"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=92"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=92"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=92"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}