The ocean glimmered beneath the afternoon sun, Umhlanga's air carrying that familiar blend of salt and soft, restless wind. Ruri adjusted her tote bag on her shoulder as she walked along the stretch of restaurants facing the sea.
She spotted him before he saw her.
Sphesihle.
Leaning casually against the railing near the café entrance, dressed in a white linen shirt and dark jeans clean, simple, effortlessly put together. Beside him stood Menzi, mid-conversation.
Then his eyes lifted.
