The night came softly, wrapping Durban in its quiet hum — waves rolling somewhere beyond the city's pulse, streetlights flickering against damp pavement.
Nomhle sat by her desk, books open but untouched. The steady ticking of her wall clock filled the silence, her mind replaying every word, every look, every breath from that car.
"Ngikubonile, futhi ngazizwa sengathi sengikubonile kudala."
I saw you, and it felt like I'd known you long before that.
She ran her thumb along the rim of her mug, eyes lost on the windowpane where faint raindrops still clung.
Her phone vibrated against the desk — once, twice. She froze. The screen lit up with an unknown number.
