I WAS JUST A SERVANT

The evening air was thick with the scent of jasmine and rain-warmed earth. Zenande sat near the window, the last gold light caressing her face, her legs covered with a soft shawl. Nokwanda moved quietly around the room, preparing tea.

Tonight, the weight of silence was different. It wasn't the heavy kind that pressed down, but the kind pregnant with possibility — like the moment before a secret is told.

Zenande's eyes followed Nokwanda's every movement. There was a rhythm to her care, an unspoken tenderness that made Zenande's chest ache with something she had never expected to feel.

When Nokwanda turned and caught her gaze, she smiled softly, the kind of smile that held warmth and invitation.

Without thinking, Zenande reached out. Her hand brushed Nokwanda's arm. The contact sent a spark up her spine — a signal she was no longer hiding from.

"Can I?" Zenande whispered.

Nokwanda nodded, her cheeks warming.

Zenande's hand slid down, fingers tracing the curve of Nokwanda's waist. She marveled at the smoothness, the gentle strength beneath her touch.

Nokwanda leaned into her, eyes fluttering closed.

Their breaths mingled.

For a long moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

Then, a sharp knock shattered the quiet.

Both women froze.

The knock came again — louder this time.

Zenande's heart thundered.

Nokwanda moved to the door, hesitating.

"Who is it?" she called.

No answer.

A cold shiver ran down Nokwanda's spine.

"Stay here," she whispered.

Zenande nodded, her hand gripping the armrest tightly.

Nokwanda opened the door slowly.

Standing there, framed in the dark hallway, was the woman from the shadows.

Her eyes gleamed with cold intent.

"Good evening, Nokwanda," she said, voice low and dangerous.

Nokwanda's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

The woman smirked. "Someone who doesn't want your little fairy tale to continue."

Zenande wheeled herself forward, summoning courage she didn't know she had.

"What do you want?"

The woman's gaze shifted to Zenande.

"You think you can heal her? Fix her? Love her?"

Zenande's jaw clenched.

"This is my home."

"Not for long."

Before anyone could react, the woman pulled something from her coat — a folded letter.

"Consider this a warning."

She dropped the letter on the floor and vanished into the night as quickly as she appeared.

Nokwanda picked up the letter, hands trembling.

Zenande read aloud, voice steady but cold:

"Stay away from her. Or you will pay the price."

A silence settled between them, heavier than before.

Zenande looked at Nokwanda.

"We're in danger."

Nokwanda swallowed hard. "But we're together."

And in that, a fierce determination bloomed.