THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 06
The darkness outside seems to match Tumelo’s mood as he sits in the balcony, whisky in hand, staring down the empty street. He’s donned a hoodie, a rare move for someone who usually flunts his physique around the apartment. But tonight, he’s covering up, hiding the scars that still sting from Itu’s reaction.
He’s lost in thought, replaying the earlier scene, wondering why he let it get under his skin. It’s not like he expected her to like the scars, but a little… something. A little acknowledgement that he’s still a person, despite the mess on his body. The whisky burns his throat, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in his chest.
The smell of grilled chicken wafts from the kitchen, and his stomach growls, but he ignores it. He’d rather order in than face Itu again. Maybe he should just let her go. She’s clearly not equipped to handle… this. And with females, you can never know what they’re planning. He sighs, pulling out his phone to order dinner, again. The familiar routine of scrolling through the menu and placing the order is a small comfort, but it’s enough to distract him for a moment.
As he waits for the food to arrive, he gazes out at the night, the city lights blurring together in a mess of colour. He’s so lost in thought, he almost doesn’t hear the delivery guy arrive. Thirty minutes later, the sound of a motorcycle pulling up breaks the silence. He stands up, adjusts his hoodie, and heads to answer the door.
As he walks out of his bedroom, he’s met with the sight of Itu cooking Pap, her back to him. The aroma of simmering meat and vegetables fills the air, and for a moment, he’s taken back to simpler times. She steals a glance, her eyes flicking to him, then quickly focusing back on the pots. He takes his order from the delivery guy – always the same guy, always alone – and closes the door, shutting out the world.
The food’s here, but the appetite’s gone. Tumelo’s left wondering what’s next, with Itu, with himself. He looks at the bag of food in his hand, and for a moment, considers offering her some. But the thought dies quickly – he told her she’ll cook everyday but here he is. With a paper bag in hand.
Itu’s face is set in a disapproving expression, her arms crossed over her chest as she says, her voice laced with complaint, “You said I should cook, now you’re ordering in?” The words hang in the air, a challenge of sorts, and Tumelo’s expression doesn’t change, his eyes flicking to hers for a brief moment before he looks away.
But then, out of nowhere, he says, “I’m sorry.” The words fly out unexpectedly, and he’s as surprised as Itu is. His deep voice is laced with a hint of gruffness, and the apology sounds almost… reluctant.
Itu’s eyes widen, her frown deepening as she’s taken aback. Someone like him says sorry? The thought seems to throw her off balance, and for a moment, they’re stuck in a stare, the only sound the quiet hum of the fridge in the background.
Tumelo’s the first to break the gaze, clearing his throat as he shifts uncomfortably. “Stop staring,” he says, his voice a little gruffer now, like he’s trying to cover up that moment of weakness.
Itu’s expression is like her mom’s when she’s caught doing something sneaky – a mix of amusement and expectation. “I also want what you ordered,” she says, a hint of a challenge still lingering in her voice.
Tumelo nods, his movements economical as he sits on the high chair, watching as Itu dishes up for him. The food smells amazing, a mix of junk food and something homecooked, and Tumelo’s stomach growls in anticipation.
It’s weird how he’s beginning to trust her, how the tension between them feels… different now. She could poison him if she wanted to. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, but he pushes it aside.
—
NTHABISENG
Boi got a call from Itu’s mother yesterday saying she sent her R5000, that’s obviously a lot of money, and now I’m starting to wonder where and who she is with, because she cannot just disappear on us after getting a job. We’ve been feeding her our food and letting her stay in our apartment, and this is how she repays us?
It’s Monday morning, and I’m preparing to go to the mall to get a few groceries since we’re running out of food. The fridge is almost empty, and I don’t know what’s in Boi’s mind, but she didn’t make a lot of money this week. She knows we refill our groceries every two weeks, but she still refused to go out with me to hustle for food money. I don’t mind hustling alone, but soon she won’t touch my food, she’s the one that finishes food to begin with, because she eats like a pig.
I’m rolling out of bed, fixing the messy sheets before heading to take a shower, trying to shake off the sleep. I’m craving some corn flakes, which I rarely eat, but right now, they sound like the perfect breakfast.
As I walk out my room, Boi is already sitting on the counter with a bowl of corn flakes, looking like she’s in her own world, completely unbothered by the fact that she’s eating the last of our food. The sound of her spoon scraping against the bowl is like nails on a chalkboard, and I feel a pang of annoyance.
“Morning.” I greet, trying to sound casual, taking a bowl and a spoon, trying to mask my disappointment. My stomach is already grumbling, and I was really looking forward to those corn flakes.
“Morning.” She responds, eating away, her other hand holding her phone, scrolling through social media or something. She doesn’t even look up at me, just keeps eating, and I feel a twinge of irritation.
I search for the corn flakes and find none, panic starting to set in. “Where are the corn flakes?” I ask, my tone a mix of confusion and annoyance. She lifts her head, looking at me with a straight face, no guilt or shame whatsoever.
“They’re no more corn flakes.” She says, and I’m like, seriously?!
Now you see why I say she eats too much? I’m the one that bought them, and I only ate them once! She’s like a vacuum cleaner, sucking up everything in sight. I swear, sometimes I wonder how she stays so skinny.
I say with my hands on my waist, my elbows jutting out as I strike a pose, “I am the one who bought them Boi, and I only ate them once.” My voice is laced with a mix of annoyance and sarcasm, and I’m not backing down. The words come out a bit louder than intended, but I’m past caring. I’ve been feeding her, housing her, and this is the thanks I get – her eating me out of house and home.
Boi looks up at me with a straight face, her chest puffed out like she’s ready for a fight. Her eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of guilt, but it’s quickly replaced by defiance. “It’s not my fault you weren’t eating them Nthabi, and don’t talk like I don’t buy food here. You also eat what I buy.” Her words are sharp, delivered with a confidence that’s almost convincing, but I know her. I know she’s trying to deflect.
I chuckle, the sound low and throaty, as I clap once, the sharp sound echoing in the kitchen. “Like how you’ve been broke in the past 2 weeks? You do know we’re supposed to go to the mall to fill up the groceries, right?” I’m asking this on purpose, so she learns to talk with the breadwinner.
My eyes are locked on hers, and I can see the gears turning in her head. She’s calculating, weighing her options, trying to figure out how to spin this in her favor. She’s no longer talking, but she knows how to fight for food – that’s for sure.
I shake my head, the motion exaggerated, as I turn to leave. My hair brushes against my shoulder, and I can feel Boi’s eyes on me, boring into my skin. I’m almost at the door when my phone rings, breaking the tension. I glance at the screen, and my heart skips a beat – unknown number. “Hello.” I say, answering the call, my tone cautious.
“Nthabi… Nthabi, it’s me, Itu. You have to call the cops, I’m kidnapped.” Itu’s voice is panicked, but I’m not buying it. Kidnapped? By who? She sent her mother R5000 yesterday. This girl can be dramatic sometimes. I roll my eyes, the motion almost instinctive.
“Ohh really?” I say, my tone dripping with skepticism. I know she’s enjoying herself, probably living her best life with some new guy. My mind starts to wander, conjuring up images of Itu wrapped around some rich guy, living her best life.
“Yes please, it’s a scary man. Buff and got so many tattoos on him, tattoos that some of them are hiding big scars.” She says, and I’m not sure if I should believe her or not. The description sounds like Tumelo, but… nope, I don’t trust her. Tumelo who’s have hurt and brought her back by now.
“Are you sure you’re kidnapped by Tumelo?” I ask, my voice laced with doubt. I’m trying to keep my tone neutral, but I can feel my curiosity piqued.
“I don’t know his name, can you report this to the police please.” She says, and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes. God knows I’m reporting nothing. I’m not that gullible.
“I…” She just hung up, well good for me. I’m not going to ruin my day. Tumelo will haunt me, and that’s the last thing I want.
Boi is looking at me, her eyes wide with curiosity, she’s so eager to know who I was talking to, mentioning Tumelo’s name. Well, I’m not going to tell her. I smile, a sly grin spreading across my face as I head towards my room. “I guess I’ll grab something to eat at ILanga mall,” I say, dropping the bombshell. Deep down I know she wants to tag along, but I’m going there alone.
—
Tumelo chuckles, the sound low and menacing, as he snatches his phone from Itu’s small hands. How did she even get it? He hadn’t even noticed she’d taken it, his attention focused on the dark thoughts swirling in his mind.
“You’re calling people now?” He asks, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, but his eyes are cold, calculating. This doesn’t sit well with Tumelo. Why is she trying by all means to get away from him? The thought sends a spark of irritation through him, but he keeps his expression neutral.
Itu looks up at him, her eyes flashing with defiance, but also a hint of fear. She’s trying to mask it, but Tumelo’s seen it. “I was greeting my friends.” She says, her voice steady, but Tumelo isn’t buying it. Indeed, females are an unknown breed. Lies run in their blood. He’s not mad about it, just shocked that she wants him reported. The thought of being reported, of the authorities poking around annoys him.
Tumelo turns to leave, his movements fluid, like a predator stalking its prey. But Itu’s words stop him in his tracks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that but I’m not comfortable being here with you.” She says, her voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. Tumelo turns slowly, his eyes narrowing as he listens.
“I don’t know who you are and what you’re capable of doing, I’m locked here and I can’t even go outside for fresh air? If you want me dead why don’t you kill me already instead of keeping me prisoner here.” Her words are laced with frustration, desperation, and a hint of anger. Tumelo’s expression doesn’t change, but he feels a flicker of… something. Guilt? Regret? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t like it.
“I’m not killing you, you will stay here with me until I’ve had enough. Let’s say I free you, you can go out but cannot leave. Because if you do, you’re putting every breathing thing in danger.” He says, his voice firm, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. Tumelo’s not sure why he’s explaining himself to her, but something about Itu makes him want to justify his actions.
He places his apartment keys on the counter, the sound of the keys clipping against the surface is loud in the silence. “You can go out, but don’t think about leaving.” He adds, his eyes locked on hers, daring her to challenge him.
Tumelo turns to leave again, his movements deliberate, but this time, he heads back to his room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The silence that follows is oppressive, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. The only sound is the soft hum of the air conditioner, and Itu’s ragged breathing.
Stickers & emojis not allowed.
80+ comments & 15+ shares.