PROMISED TO HIM
CHAPTER 34
MAYIBUYE SMITH
The ride home was quiet. The city lights flashed by the window, golden streaks painting Roy’s sharp jawline as he drove in silence.
I glanced at him—his focus was unreadable, his grip on the steering wheel tight, knuckles pale. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. When we finally pulled into the driveway, the soft hum of the engine died, leaving only the sound of my heartbeat.
We stepped into the house. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, breathing in his scent—the familiar, intoxicating cologne that always made my chest flutter and ache at the same time.
He didn’t pull away immediately, but his phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it, frowning at the screen.
“Roy…” I murmured, not ready to let go yet.
He glanced down at me, his eyes softening for just a second. Then that cold mask slid back in place. “I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.”
Before I could say anything, he was already out the door, leaving the faint trace of his cologne behind and an echo of his voice that lingered too long in my chest.
I sighed and turned to look around the lounge. The house was too quiet. Too perfect. Too peaceful. A peace that didn’t belong to people like us.
I went upstairs, peeled off my dress, and stepped into the shower. The hot water hit my skin like tiny needles, washing away the fatigue but not the weight in my heart. I stood there for nearly an hour, thinking of everything and nothing all at once.
When I finally stepped out, I threw on my short grey PJs and climbed into bed with my phone. My thumb scrolled lazily through my gallery until I landed on our wedding photos.
There he was—Roy Smith, the man who never smiled, grinning like the sun itself that day. I hadn’t noticed it before. His hand on my waist,I smiled , tracing the image on the screen with my thumb.
Then my phone rang. Gogo.
What could she want this late?
“Hello?”
“Mayibuye Duma, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Her voice boomed so loud I almost dropped the phone.
“Gogo, calm down. I’m still trying to gather evidence.”
“We should have named you Mayibuye ingqondo!” she snapped.
“Gogo, listen…” I sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I insisted Roy take me on the business trip so I could find out more about their shady business. I’m close. I just need time.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then the line went dead.
I stared at my phone, frustrated. Mama’s death really did a number on Gogo. I knew she wanted revenge more than she wanted peace. But… was that still what I wanted?
Because somewhere between hating Roy Smith and being his wife, I had lost track of which one hurt more—my love for him or the reason I was here in the first place.
“These people took my mom and dad when I was four,” I whispered to myself. “How could I let that slide?”
I sat in the bedroom, legs tucked under a blanket. Time flew faster than my thoughts. I didn’t even realize how late it was until I checked the clock. Roy still wasn’t home.
I tried calling him. No answer.
Once. Twice. Nothing.
I finally gave up…went through the window and lay on the couch, still holding my phone, watching the shadows from the chandelier dance across the ceiling. Sleep pulled me under before I could even fight it.
ROY SMITH
When I came back, it was 1:38 a.m.
The house was silent, except for the faint sound of the air conditioner humming. I found her curled on the couch, fast asleep, her phone still in her hand.
I stood there for a moment, just looking at her.
She had fallen asleep waiting for me. Again.
Her hair was a little messy, her breathing soft. Something about her peace made me uneasy. I wasn’t used to it.
I knelt beside the couch and gently lifted her into my arms. She was cold—too cold. I laid her on the bed, pulled the blanket over her, and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.
“Sleep, Mayi,” I murmured under my breath.
I walked back downstairs. The carpet in the study was slightly misplaced—only someone like me would notice. I pulled it back, keyed in a code on the floor panel, and the steel hatch clicked open.
Inside, stacks of cash and sealed packages waited. I placed a new black duffel bag inside—filled with drugs and pills. Business was good, but good didn’t mean safe.
Once the hatch was sealed again, I poured myself a drink. The whiskey burned down my throat, the warmth almost cruel after the kind of night I had.i went downstairs to study
My phone buzzed. Msizi.
“Boss,” he greeted.
“I know what you did,” I said flatly.
“Roy, I had to. So you could enjoy yourself, man. You know you don’t have sluts where you are.”
My jaw tightened. “So you’re comparing Mayi with sluts now?”
“I didn’t say that. You know how I mean it.”
“How was the shipment tonight?” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.
“I’ll be there by three. On the ship.”
He groaned.
“Don’t you have people you trust to handle it for you? You have a wife to attend ”
“You know I don’t even trust myself in this business.”
“Not even me?” he asked, half-joking, but his voice carried tension.
“Especially not you,” I muttered. “Anyone who brings romance into my business… dies faster. These rhino horns are in high demand. No mistakes, Msizi. None.”
He sighed. “Got it, Boss.”
When the call ended, I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my temples. My hands smelled like gun oil and her perfume. The combination was dangerous.
I checked the time—2:08 a.m.
I stood, took off my watch, and looked up at the stairs. She was probably dreaming, maybe even about me.
I walked back up, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her lips moved faintly in her sleep, whispering something I couldn’t catch. Maybe my name.
I left a black card on the nightstand beside her phone—no note, no explanation. Notes were for weak men. She’d know what it meant.
Grabbing my leather jacket, I walked out of the room, my footsteps silent on the marble floor. The night outside was colder than before.
The engine roared to life as I drove into the darkness.