THE RISE OF TUMELO By Author’s Voice Chapter 17

THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 17
It’s almost 4pm when Tumelo spots Itu pushing a trolley, and he’s immediately on high alert. He wants to approach her, but he’s nervous, his heart racing with anticipation. He parks his car and steps, trying not to be seen, his eyes fixed on her. He prays she doesn’t look back and see him, his heart pounding in his chest.
As he follows her, he clenches his jaws, his anger rising as he sees a man walking with her, offering to push her trolley for her. Tumelo’s eyes narrow, his possessiveness kicking in. He steps faster, his long strides eating up the distance between them. Deep down, he wants to kick the stupid guy for getting closer to his wife, but he knows he can’t do that. There’s no ring on her finger, and every man can claim her.
He pushes the guy aside, he stumbles, almost falling. She lifts her head, looking at Tumelo in disbelief, her eyes flashing with surprise. “What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice sharp.
Tumelo doesn’t respond, except to look aside, avoiding eye contact with her. “My car is parked that side,” he says, turning the trolley towards where his car is parked. The guy who was pushing Itu’s trolley is nowhere to be seen, it’s like he just vanished into thin air.
Itu’s eyes are still flashing with anger as she looks at Tumelo. “You’re not answering my question,” she says, snapping her eyebrows together. Tumelo pretends not to hear her, his eyes fixed on the car ahead.
Itu shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. She knows Tumelo, knows he’s one stubborn man who’s clingy and it’s attractive. She gets in the passenger seat, and Tumelo loads the things she bought into the back of the car.
As he gets in the driver’s seat, Itu looks at him, her eyes softening. God knows how much she loves this man, his only problem is refusing with his totolozi.
“Anything you want?” he asks, fastening his seat belt with a practiced ease, but not looking at her, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as if he’s trying to hide a smile.
“Galito’s,” she says, a small, mischievous smile playing on her lips, her eyes sparkling with a hint of challenge.
“Fasten your seat belt,” he says, looking at her, his eyes stern but with a hint of amusement, his voice firm but not unkind. Itu lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes slightly as she fastens the seat belt, the click echoing through the silence.
The drive back to his apartment is short, the tension between them palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved issues. Itu’s breathing becomes a bit more erratic she ordered extra chilli meat from Galito’s, her mouth starting to water because of the one piece of mean she has eaten,her heart rate increasing slightly as she thinks about the impending heat.
They step out of the car, and Itu immediately rushes inside, heading straight for the kitchen, her movements quick and purposeful. “Milk, I need milk,” she mutters to herself, her voice barely audible as she starts ripping open cabinets, searching for a lifesaver.
Tumelo watches her, a mixture of confusion and amusement on his face, as he starts offloading the groceries from the car, his movements slow and deliberate. He knows that look, and he’s pretty sure he’s about to witness some serious chilli-induced drama, but he’s not going to intervene, nope, he’s going to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.
Tumelo walks into the kitchen, and his eyes land on Itu, who’s devouring the chilli meat with a mix of anguish and ecstasy on her face. He’s taken aback, a chuckle rising to his throat, but he swallows it, placing the groceries on the counter with a soft thud.
“Whuu!!” Itu’s complaints are muffled, her words garbled as she tries to speak with her mouth full, her eyes welling up with tears.
Tumelo shakes his head, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. He wants to tell her to stop, to spare herself the agony, but he’s scared she might bite his head off – literally. He sits next to her, watching as her lips tremble slightly with each bite, her eyes filled with tears.
“Slow down, babe,” he says softly, his voice gentle, his eyes locked on hers.
Itu stops eating immediately, her eyes locking onto his, a spark of surprise igniting within them. “You called me babe?” A radiant smile spreads across her face, and Tumelo’s heart skips a beat.
He nods, his eyes crling at the corners, and Itu’s grin widens. “I’m your babe?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, her eyes shining with hope.
Tumelo nods again, his jaw clenched, his heart pounding in his chest. “Do you love me?” she asks, her voice trembling, and he nods once more, his eyes never leaving hers.
Her smile brightens, and she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him tight. Tumelo hugs her back, his arms enveloping her, his heart overflowing with emotion. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice muffled against her hair.
“And I love you more,” she whispers back, giggling, her body shaking with laughter. They pull out of the hug, their lips meeting in a soft, tender kiss.
“Want a piece?” she asks, nodding towards the chilli meat, a mischievous glinkle in her eye. Tumelo shakes his head, laughing. “Alright, let me go take a shower,” she says, getting off the high chair, her movements fluid, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
She puts the remaining pieces of meat in the microwave and grabs her shopping bags, swaying her hips as she walks towards the bedroom. Tumelo watches her, his heart still reeling from the intensity of their moment.
“Aren’t you going to join me?” she asks, looking back over her shoulder, a sly smile playing on her lips.
Tumelo hesitates, his eyes locked on hers, his heart racing with anticipation. He doesn’t want to disappoint her. He gets off the chair, his movements slow, his eyes never leaving hers, and follows her to the bedroom.
She’s already stripping off her clothes, heading straight to the bathroom, her back to him. “Come on, what are you waiting for?” she asks, peeking at him over her shoulder, a playful grin on her face.
–––
The shower took forever for Tumelo, Itu’s hands were all over him, teasing him, provoking him, and she just couldn’t keep them off his…ahem… Totolozi. He was relieved to get out, but now he’s just…distracted, his body still humming with anticipation.
Itu’s not cooking dinner tonight, she’s keeping it simple with pap, and Tumelo’s ordering some meat for himself. She’s happy with her hot chicken leftovers, the spicy kick still lingering on her tongue.
Her phone rings as she’s putting a pot of boiling water on the stove, the sound echoing through the kitchen. It’s Nthabi. “Nthabiseng,” Itu says, a slight smile on her face, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
But Nthabi’s not having it, her voice icy cold, with a hint of anger. “When are you coming to get the rest of your clothes?” she asks, her tone dripping with attitude.
Itu’s smile falters, her expression turning neutral, but her eyes flash with a hint of defiance. “They’re safe there, I’ll come when I’m free,” she says, her voice calm, but with a underlying current of stubbornness.
Nthabi’s anger spikes, her voice rising. “Yey wena! We want nothing that belongs to you here, first thing in the morning tomorrow I want you here!” she half-shouts, her words tumbling out in a rush.
Itu’s unfazed, a mischievous glinkle in her eye. “Yey wena, stop shouting, you’ll damage the speaker of my new phone,” she says, just to get a rise out of Nthabi, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Nthabi clicks her tongue, breathing heavily before hanging up, the sound of her frustration echoing through the phone. Tumelo comes downstairs, wearing shorts and a vest, his… Totolozi… making its presence known, swinging slightly with each step, his eyes locked on Itu’s, a question in their depths.
He’s quite…impressive, Itu thinks, her eyes lingering on him, her heart rate picking up.
–––
Zibuyile’s pacing around her bedroom, her anxiety palpable, as Mokgadi watches with a mix of frustration and concern. The room is dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath Zibuyile’s feet.
“You just said it yourself that he didn’t see you, why are you always stressing yourself, Zibuyile?” Mokgadi asks, her voice l laded with annoyance, her words a familiar refrain, one she’s sung since Zibuyile came back from the mall.
Zibuyile stops pacing, her eyes darting around the room, her mind racing. She’s replaying the scene at the mall, wondering if she really did go unnoticed, if Tumelo’s silence is just a sign of his cleverness. “I think he saw me, but didn’t want to do things in public,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart heavy with uncertainty.
Mokgadi sighs, shaking her head, her expression a mix of disappointment and worry. “If he did, don’t you think he would have been here by now? It’s already 9pm,” she says, her words a gentle but firm reality check, one that Zibuyile doesn’t want to hear.
Zibuyile’s face screws up, her anxiety spiking, her eyes welling up with tears. She’s been waiting for Tumelo’s move, waiting for him to make his presence known, but so far, nothing. Maybe she’s just been imagining things, maybe she’s just seeing what she wants to see.
Mokgadi notices her daughter’s distress, her expression softening, her voice taking on a gentler tone. “No, listen, we already have a plan. We will use Vuyiswa,” she says, a sly grin spreading across her face, her eyes glinting with determination.
Zibuyile sighs, sinking onto the bed, her shoulders sloping in defeat. She doesn’t like the idea of using Vuyiswa, “What if he doesn’t fall for it?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes locked on Mokgadi’s.
Mokgadi’s grin widens, her confidence unwavering. “He will, trust me,” she says, her voice filled with conviction, her eyes sparkling with determination. Zibuyile nods, trying to calm herself down, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that’s settled in her stomach.
But Mokgadi’s words don’t bring her the comfort they’re meant to, and Zibuyile can’t help but worry that she’s making a mistake, that she’s playing with fire. She’s about to say something when Mokgadi stands up, her movements fluid, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she says, leaning in to kiss Zibuyile’s cheek.
But Zibuyile’s not having it, her voice small, her eyes pleading. “Ma, I can’t sleep alone. I’m scared,” she says, her words barely audible, her vulnerability laid bare.
Mokgadi’s face melts, her eyes filled with love and concern. “Alright, baby, let me go get my sleep-in clothes, we’ll sleep together, okay?” she says, her voice gentle, her heart going out to her daughter.
Zibuyile nods, a small smile on her face, her anxiety easing, as Mokgadi heads out of the room, her footsteps quiet on the floor. The room is silent, except for the sound of Zibuyile’s ragged breathing, her heart still racing with anxiety. She’s trying to calm down, trying to shake off the feeling of unease, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that she’s being watched, that Tumelo’s out there.
–––
Itu walks into Nthabi’s apartment around 9am, expecting a quiet morning to collect her clothes. Instead, she’s greeted by Nthabi, lounging on the couch, sipping coffee like she owns the place alone. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, but Itu’s not here for a social visit.
Nthabi looks up, a smirk twisting her lips as she takes in Itu’s calm demeanor. “Look who finally decided to show up,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes glinting with malice.
Itu’s eyes narrow slightly, but she keeps her cool, dropping her bag on the floor. “I’m here for my clothes,” she says, her voice neutral, her hands shaking slightly as she tries to rein in her temper.
Nthabi snorts, setting her cup down. “Oh, sure, you’re just here for your clothes,” she says, her tone implying something entirely different, her words l laded with venom. “Tell me, how did you manage to tame a beast like Tumelo? Did you cast a spell on him? Are you a witch?”
Itu’s eyes flash with anger, but she bites her tongue, trying to let Nthabi’s words roll off her back. She’s not going to give her the satisfaction of getting a rise. But Nthabi’s relentless, spewing insults like a poisoned fountain. “You’re just a slut, Itu. A slut with no morals, no dignity. You’re just a plaything for Tumelo, and he’ll get bored of you soon.”
Itu’s grip on her patience slips, her anger simmering just below the surface. She tries to walk away, but Nthabi’s words keep coming, each one a fresh cut. “How does it feel to be a temporary distraction? Does it make you feel special?”
That’s when Itu loses it. Her hand flies out, slapping Nthabi across the face with a sharp crack, leaving a bright red mark on her cheek. The sound echoes through the room, followed by stunned silence.
Nthabi’s eyes widen, her hand flying to her cheek, her face twisted in shock and rage. “You bitch!” she screams, her voice piercing, as she lunges at Itu, her fingers curled into claws.
Itu’s ready for her, her own anger boiling over. The two women grapple, their anger and hurt boiling over in a mess of tears, screams, and flying hair
“You think you can just slap me and get away with it?” Nthabi screams, her voice piercing, as she tries to scratch Itu’s face.
Itu ducks, her hands flying up to defend herself. “Get off me, Nthabi!” she shouts, her voice hoarse from screaming.
The two women stumble around Nthabi’s apartment, knocking over furniture and scattering clothes everywhere. Nthabi’s determined to take Itu down, but Itu’s not going down without a fight.
Just as it seems like things are going to get really out of hand, the door bursts open, and Tumelo walks in, his eyes widening in shock as he takes in the scene before him. His gaze is icy cold, and Nthabi’s face pales, her bravado deflating instantly.
“Itu, what the…?” Tumelo starts, his voice trailing off as he takes in the chaos. His eyes narrow, and he strides towards Nthabi, his presence commanding attention.
Nthabi’s eyes flash with anger, and she points a shaking finger at Itu. “She attacked me!” she screams, her voice accusing.
Tumelo’s gaze swings to Itu, who’s standing frozen, her chest heaving with exertion. “Itu, what’s going on?” he asks, his voice firm, but with a hint of concern.
Itu takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. “She was insulting me, Tumelo,” she says, her voice shaking with anger. “I told her to stop, but she wouldn’t.”
Tumelo’s expression turns cold, his eyes flashing with anger. “You touch my wife again you’re dead,” he says, his voice low and menacing.
Nthabi’s face twists with rage, but Tumelo’s having none of it. He turns to Itu, his expression softening. “Let’s go, babe,” he says, his voice gentle, as he starts picking up Itu’s clothes and pushing them into her bag.
Itu nods, still shaking with anger, as Tumelo takes her hand and leads her out of the apartment, leaving Nthabi to stew in her own rage.
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