THE INCARCERATED STRANGER

 

Chapter 41

 

He finds the address of one of the doctors in the files he is studying. Without hesitation, he grabs his car keys and leaves the house. Blade is flying back to Johannesburg later today, and only then will he be able to take his father to Blade’s private hospital. Tossing the files onto the passenger seat, he slides into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and speeds off.

The drive isn’t particularly long, especially as he pushes the limits of speed on the empty, traffic-free road. Soon, he reaches his destination and parks his car outside a hospital building. Stepping out, he adjusts his appearance—brushing down his jacket and straightening his shirt. With the file in hand, he strides purposefully toward the entrance.

As he walks in, the atmosphere shifts. Nurses bustling around the reception area pause, their gazes inevitably drawn to him, mesmerized by this striking figure of a man. Even some of the patients, though there for treatment, seem momentarily revived by his presence. His confident strides carry him straight to the receptionist's desk, commanding attention without uttering a single word.

"Good afternoon," he says, his voice smooth and commanding as he greets the receptionist, who seems utterly lost in his presence.

The woman stares at him, frozen, caught in the spell of his striking appearance.

"Miss, if you value your job, snap out of it and assist me," he warns, his tone sharp enough to jolt her back to reality.

She quickly clears her throat, her cheeks flushing as she fumbles with her words.

 "I-I'm so sorry, sir," she stammers, swallowing hard as she waves a paper in front of her face to cool down.

"Is Doctor James in?" he asks, his piercing gaze steady.

"Yes, he is, sir," she replies in a hushed whisper, nodding quickly.

Without another word, he nods and strides away from the desk, heading straight for the elevator.

"Wait, sir, let me call him first!" the receptionist calls after him, but he doesn’t bother to stop.

He steps into the elevator with purpose, pressing the button for the correct floor without hesitation. He doesn’t need directions—he already knows exactly where the doctor’s office is.

He steps out of the elevator, his strides purposeful as he heads straight for the doctor’s office. Without bothering to knock, he pushes the door open and walks in.

“What the hell!” Doctor James exclaims, his voice a mix of shock and frustration. He stares at the intruder, stunned at the audacity of someone barging into his office unannounced—especially at such a moment. James hurriedly pulls up his trousers, clearly interrupted at a rather intimate point with the woman now scrambling to put on her clothes.

The woman quickly gathers herself and rushes out of the office, her face flushed with embarrassment. Meanwhile, the uninvited guest is already seated comfortably in a chair, exuding an air of calm authority as he waits for James to compose himself.

“Open the windows. It reeks of sex in here,” he says, his tone sharp and commanding.

Grumbling under his breath, James moves to the window, slides it open, and lets fresh air into the room. Once done, he adjusts his clothes, walks to his chair, and sits down, visibly annoyed but forced to listen.

"Who are you?" James asks, his eyes narrowing as he studies the man before him.

"It doesn’t matter who I am, Doctor James. I didn’t come all this way to exchange pleasantries," he replies coolly.

Without another word, he places a file on the desk in front of James.

 "Here," he says simply.

James frowns, confused, and pulls the file toward him. "What is this?" he asks, flipping it open. His confusion quickly shifts to unease as his eyes land on a name he recognizes all too well. His throat goes dry, and he swallows hard, looking up slowly to meet the man’s piercing gaze.

"The name and the file—it looks familiar to you, doesn’t it, James?" the man asks, his tone calm but edged with menace.

James nods reluctantly.

 “Yes, it does. But what does it have to do with me?”

The man chuckles, a sound devoid of humor. "What the hell is wrong with my father, Doc?" he asks, his voice low and measured.

"I’ve already told your family—I can’t find anything wrong with your father," James responds firmly, sitting up straighter as he tries to maintain his composure.

"I know you’re lying," the man says, leaning forward, his tone dropping to a dangerous level. “So don’t screw with me, James. Start talking.”

James keeps a straight face, refusing to flinch.

 "I don’t know what you want from me," he says evenly.

 “There’s nothing more to say.”

"How much did they pay you to keep quiet?" he asks, his voice sharp and unrelenting.

James shifts uncomfortably in his chair, the weight of the question making him squirm. "What are you talking about?" he stammers, attempting to feign ignorance.

"How much did Mzwandile and Senzo pay you to stay silent about my father’s condition?" he repeats, his tone colder this time, his gaze locked onto James like a predator cornering its prey.

James freezes for a moment, then chokes on his saliva, caught off guard by the directness of the accusation. His hands fumble nervously, betraying the calm front he’s trying to maintain.

"I'm giving you one more chance to talk, James. How much did my half-brothers pay you? What do they know about my father’s sickness?" he demands, his tone sharp and unyielding.

James swallows hard, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He remembers the threats from Mzwandile and Senzo, as well as the hefty bribe they had given him—twice his monthly salary. The memory sends a chill down his spine, but he resolves to stay silent. There’s no way he’ll betray them, not to this man who barges in and tries to intimidate him.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, man," James says, forcing his voice to stay steady.

 "Please, leave my office. I have patients to attend to." He rises from his chair, signaling the end of the conversation.

He chuckles, a low, mocking sound that fills the tense silence. Standing up, he picks up the file and heads toward the door. Before stepping out, he glances back at James one last time, his piercing eyes lingering for a moment, then turns and walks out of the office without another word.

Now he knows—his half-brothers are hiding something about their father’s illness. But what could it be? What kind of sickness has reduced his once-strong father to looking like a lifeless corpse? He sighs heavily, frustration and uncertainty weighing on him as he walks to his car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he sits there for a few minutes, lost in thought.

His phone rings, snapping him out of his thoughts. Seeing the name "Ayakha" on the screen brings a small smile to his face.

"MaQwane," he answers, his voice softening.

"Hey, babe, how are you?" her warm voice comes through on the other end.

"I'm okay, Cupcake. How are you?" he asks, his tone lighter now.

"I'm fine, just busy with work... Are you sure you're okay? You don’t sound like yourself," she says, her concern evident.

He smiles faintly, touched by how well she knows him, even over the phone. Letting out a deep sigh, he decides to open up. He tells her about what’s bothering him—the tension with his half-brothers and the unsettling realization that they know what’s wrong with his father but are keeping it from him.

As he speaks, her quiet support on the other end of the line gives him a small sense of relief, even as his mind remains clouded with unanswered questions.

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He arrives home to find his half-siblings and their kids gathered in the living room. The tension in the air is palpable; worry and stress over their father’s condition are etched on everyone’s faces.

“Hey, everyone,” he greets, his voice warm but subdued.

Before he can sit down, the children rush toward him, excited and energetic, each trying to claim his attention. They climb onto his lap, giggling and playfully jostling one another to be picked up first.

He chuckles softly, his affection for them clear as he gives each child equal attention. One by one, he lifts them, spins them around, or playfully taps their noses, making them laugh. It’s obvious how much he adores his sisters' children, and for a moment, his presence brings a small sense of normalcy to an otherwise tense household.

He leaves the living room and heads upstairs to find his stepmother. As he walks, his phone pings with a message from Blade: “I’ve just landed. Bring your father to the hospital.”

He reads the message quickly and hurries to his father's and stepmother's bedroom. Inside, he finds his mother helping his father change clothes.

"Hey, Mom," he greets her softly. She nods at him without looking up.

"We need to take him to the hospital," he says, urgency in his voice.

Hleliwe looks at him, a mixture of concern and exhaustion on her face. 

"But we’ve already taken him to the best doctors, Mangi. Nothing helped. They couldn’t find anything," she says, wiping away a tear that escapes down her cheek.

"You said you trust me, Mom. Remember?" he asks gently.

She nods, though her worry is still visible. “Of course I trust you, son.”

He gives her a reassuring nod. 

“Then trust me on this one. Dad will get help. Let us take him to this private doctor I know and trust.”

Hleliwe sighs, conflicted, but after a moment, she nods. 

“Okay then. I’m done bathing him and changing his clothes.”

Mangi walks over, carefully lifting his father from the bed. He carries him out of the room, heading toward the living room.

"Where are you taking Dad, brother?" Akhona asks as he passes with his father in his arms.

"To the hospital," Mangi replies, his voice steady but urgent. He continues walking, hoping no further questions will follow.

He carefully helps his father into the passenger seat of the car, making sure the seatbelt is secure.

"Can I come with you, son?" Hleliwe’s voice cracks as she asks, her eyes full of worry.

Mangi hesitates, looking at his stepmother with a heavy heart. “You can’t, Mom. As much as I want to take you with me, I can't. No one can know where I’m taking Dad, not even you. But I promise, as soon as we get any updates, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

Hleliwe nods, tears welling up in her eyes, but she understands. Mangi starts the car and drives off, the weight of what he’s about to do settling heavily on his shoulders.

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PARI

The past weeks have been overwhelming for her. The way she discovered that the man she loved with all her heart was polygamous still stings. She’s hurt that he never told her, never gave her any hints, but what’s done is done. She’s cried enough over it, and now, even when the thought crosses her mind, the tears no longer come.

After that night, when she told Nipho to give her space and time to think about whether she could continue their relationship and accept being his second wife, he went on his honeymoon with his first wife and "mother of his kids".

She did think it through, as hard as it was. She hates polygamy with all her being, but she loves Nipho. She loves him deeply, and if she wants him, she knows she’ll have to try and accept his way of life. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a chance, right?

She hasn't contacted him or shared her decision yet. She plans to tell him later, though, since he’s supposed to be coming over today.

After her shower, she steps out of the bathroom and applies lotion to her skin before slipping into her pajamas. She climbs into bed, pulling the covers over herself, and rests her head on the pillow.

It's now late—around 22:00—and she's no longer sure if Nipho is coming or not. He hasn’t mentioned anything, and the silence only deepens her uncertainty. She sighs, closing her eyes, hoping to drift off to sleep despite the lingering thoughts.

ShE beginning to dose off when he comes in. She feel his lips on her cheek, and her lips curl involuntarily into a smile. 

"Hey baby," she mumble.

"You are still up, " he feel his weight as he sinks in on the bed next to her, “I am so tired.”

“How was work?”

“Hectic as ever. ”

He peels off his clothes slides under covers pulls her closer to him, and kisses her neck. 

"I want you to know that I love you, baby, no matter what happens," he kisses her again. He pulls her closer to his hairy body and his hand gently caresses her stomach.

“I love you too.”

She actually thinking that they will just cuddle and sleep but she feel his lips at the nape of her neck and his kisses go down her spine till he gets to the tailbone, and she feel a surge of chills and excitement. He kisses her all the way up again and he lays his thigh over her and parts her legs with his knee, gently while his hand continues to caress all her weak spots.

She curl when she eventually feel his fingers on her coochie. She just yearn for him to just rip off her pyjamas and touch directly on the skin. She spread her thighs slightly to allow him easy access and she can feel herself getting all wet with anticipation.

As if reading her mind he tugs his hand underneath the PJ's and pulls the knickers aside and his fingers trail her lips.

He flips her body over and kisses her lips passionately and intimately. There is just a thing about how he kisses and touches her, He does magical things with his mouth that give her pure - undiluted pleasures.

He try to mirror his actions, she  just lie there and be a chicken. She knows he loves to be touched too,but not today,she is letting him do it alone.

He makes sure that by the time he enters her, the salty rivers of her haven are flowing like the Nile. She do the kegels while he pumps in, she know the convulsions of her walls drive him insane.

 He turns and flips her anyhow, but she is not complaining. His strokes hit the right spot. She whine, vibrate, and twerk along to his pace and rhythm.

Their bodies melt together like chocolate and shudder in one explosive orgasm..…

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