They drove in silence.
The city was buzzing with headlines, sirens, and whispers — but up in the hills, tucked inside a rented villa no one knew about, Lynn and Lwandile had a moment to breathe.
Finally.
She slipped off her heels and poured a glass of wine.
> "To war," she said, raising the glass with a half-smile.
Lwandile clinked his bottle against hers. "To surviving it."
They sat on the balcony, watching the city burn with drama below them.
> "You really blew up your whole life for me," she murmured.
> "I blew it up for us," he corrected.
She turned to him. "What if there's no 'us' in the end?"
He looked at her, deadly serious now.
> "Then I'll still sleep better knowing I chose you."
Silence.
Then her hand found his. Warm. Soft. Scared.
> "I'm not used to needing someone," she said quietly.
> "Then get used to it," he whispered, pulling her in.
And just like that… he kissed her again. But slower this time. Sweeter. Less fire, more feeling.
She let herself melt into him.
She let herself feel.
But just as things got softer… her phone buzzed.
One message.
No name. No number. Just:
> "You think the boardroom was the end? You haven't even met me yet. — T."
Her heart sank. Thabiso wasn't done.
She looked up at Lwandile.
> "It's starting again," she said.
He pulled her close.
> "Then we end it. This time for good."