Phakade pulls into the driveway just as the sky begins to soften from black to deep indigo. Sfundo's gate is already open waiting. The house hums with quiet movement, the kind that belongs to men who know where they are going and why.
Sphesihle steps out first, car keys in hand, dressed simply but deliberately. He leans against the car, watching as Phakade climbs out.
"Siyabonga besithi siyakushiya, uyosithola ngendlela ," Sphesihle says.
Phakade smirks.
"Uma Ngithe ngizofika, ngiyafika."
They clasp hands, pulling into a brief, firm embrace brothers bound by blood and unspoken understanding.
