CHAPTER THREE- The Return
1684 Words
The pharmacy door chimed again.
Buhle’s breath caught.
Her fingers tightened around the cloth she was still holding, the edges damp from wiping the counter through her tears. She didn’t turn around immediately. She couldn’t. Her heart was already thudding hard enough to make her vision blur slightly.
She knew it was him.
She felt it.
Her spirit recognized his presence before her eyes confirmed it.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
There he was.
Ntsika stood just inside the doorway, shoulders rising and falling as if he had rushed inside without thinking. His eyes — deep brown with that strange softness she’d seen earlier — scanned the room urgently until they landed on her.
When they did, his whole posture changed.
His chest loosened.
His shoulders dropped.
His expression softened into something unreadable… something raw.
He took one careful step forward.
“Buhle,” he said quietly.
Just her name.
But the way he said it felt like an apology, a confession, and a plea all stitched into one breath.
Buhle swallowed hard. “Can I… help you?”
Her voice cracked at the end. She hoped he didn’t hear it, but from the way his brows pulled together, he did.
Ntsika looked around, as if making sure no one was watching too closely. Siya was already pretending to pack shelves but was blatantly eavesdropping. An elderly woman waited at the vitamins section, reading labels slowly.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
Buhle blinked.
She hadn’t expected that.
He continued, voice steady but low. “I didn’t want to walk out like that.”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly, looking down.
“It’s not.”
His tone held firmness this time. A gentle firmness. A sincerity that made her chest tighten painfully.
When she finally met his eyes, she saw conflict swimming behind them — not small conflict, not casual confusion, but the kind of war that could change a person.
“I shouldn’t have come back,” he admitted. “But something told me to.”
Her breath hitched. She didn’t know whether it was fear or hope pulling at her ribs.
“Something?” she whispered.
He nodded slowly. “You.”
She felt the weight of that word like a physical touch. Her fingers trembled slightly around the cloth.
Buhle took a tiny step back, needing space to breathe. “Ntsika… you have a girlfriend.”
She forced herself to say it.
Forced herself to face truth.
His jaw tightened. “I know.”
“And she seems… nice,” Buhle said quietly, even though that sentence tasted like bitter medicine in her mouth.
“She is,” he admitted.
The honesty stung. But it also revealed something deeper in his tone — something hollow.
“But,” he continued, “that doesn’t change the fact that when I walked out… I felt like I was leaving something unfinished.”
Buhle’s heart flipped.
He ran a hand over his head — a nervous gesture she was learning quickly. “I argued with Sihle outside. She asked why I was taking so long in here. I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t even have the words.”
Buhle’s eyes widened slightly.
“I told her I needed to go home,” he said softly. “She left without me.”
This shocked her. “You two fought… because of me?”
“No,” he said gently. “We fought because I’m not being honest with myself.”
Silence fell between them.
Thick. Heavy.
Yet strangely comforting.
Buhle felt her heartbeat in her throat. She knew this was dangerous ground — ground she didn’t want to walk on, but somehow felt called to. Something spiritual pulsed quietly beneath this moment, something she couldn’t explain.
He looked at her again — really looked at her — and she couldn’t look away.
“From the first moment,” he said softly, “there was something about you.”
A tear escaped her before she could stop it.
He stepped closer instinctively, concern flashing across his face. “Hey… why are you crying?”
She shook her head quickly, wiping it away. “I’m fine. I just… had a long morning.”
“That’s not all,” he said quietly.
He wasn’t asking.
He was stating.
She hated how easily he read her.
How quickly he saw her.
“Buhle,” he continued, “I didn’t come back here to mess with you.”
“Then why did you?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “All I know is that something in me felt pulled back to you.”
Her breath shook. She hadn’t meant to cry again, but tears kept gathering in her eyes, hot and overwhelming.
Ntsika reached forward slowly — cautiously — as if giving her ample time to step away.
He didn’t touch her.
He simply extended his hand, palm open, hovering near her arm.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
The way he asked… it wasn’t casual.
It wasn’t polite.
It was tender. Concerned. Real.
She stared at his hand. It was warm, steady, waiting. She didn’t take it. But she didn’t move away either.
“I’m confused,” Buhle whispered.
“So am I.”
“I’m trying to stay in my lane.”
“So am I.”
“I’m trying not to… feel things.”
“So am I.”
The confession slipped from him like he’d been holding it for hours. Maybe days.
Her chest tightened. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Ntsika.”
“I know.”
“But you are saying them.”
“I know,” he repeated, voice cracking slightly.
A silence stretched between them.
This one was different from earlier — deeper, heavier, full of things neither of them were allowed to speak.
Then the elderly customer cleared her throat softly.
“Excuse me, dear,” she called. “Is this good for joint pain?”
Buhle jumped slightly and wiped her cheeks quickly. “Yes! I’m coming.”
She hurried over to assist the woman, grateful for the small interruption. Behind her, Ntsika’s gaze followed her — not intrusively, but with a kind of ache she had never seen in a man’s eyes.
When she finished helping, she returned to the counter, expecting him to have left.
But he was still there.
Still waiting.
Still standing quietly with his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor like he was deep in conflict.
“Buhle,” he said again when she approached. “I don’t want to make your life complicated.”
“You already are,” she whispered.
He winced slightly. “I know.”
She shook her head slowly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You’re right.”
“Then why are you here?”
He lifted his gaze, and the truth in his eyes shook her.
“Because walking away from you felt wrong.”
Her breath caught again.
“And being near you feels right in a way I don’t understand,” he continued. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”
“Ntsika…” she breathed, shaking her head. “This can’t happen.”He stepped closer — carefully — leaving only a small breath of space between them.
“I’m not asking for anything to happen,” he said gently. “I’m just… telling you the truth.”
Her lips parted, but no words formed.
He leaned in slightly — not enough to invade her space, but enough that she could smell his cologne, warm and subtle. Enough for her heart to trip in her chest.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “I’ll go.”
A pang hit her heart unexpectedly.
“But before I leave,” he added softly, “please don’t cry because of me. I didn’t come back to hurt you.”
Her eyes softened. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“You sure?” he asked gently.
She looked down. “It’s just… emotions. I’ll be fine.”
He studied her face, then nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
He took a step back, his hands sliding out of his pockets — a sign of surrender, not frustration.
“Take care of yourself, Buhle.”
She inhaled sharply at the way he said her name — as if it carried meaning he didn’t yet know how to express.
“You too,” she whispered.
He turned toward the door.
And walked out.
The moment the door closed behind him, her knees weakened. She gripped the counter quickly, breathing hard, trying to calm the storm inside her.
Why did he affect her like this?
Why did her spirit feel so awakened around him?
Why did her heart ache as if she already knew losing him would hurt?
She closed her eyes and whispered, “God… help me.”
But before she could steady herself, Siya rushed over, grabbing her arm.
“Buhle!” she whispered fiercely. “Girl, that man came back for YOU! Did you see how he was looking at you? Did you see how stressed he was? Yoh! I’ve never seen a man that confused in my life!”
Buhle laughed weakly through her tears. “Siya, please… this is not funny.”
“I’m not laughing,” Siya said, lowering her voice. “I’m saying… be careful. That man is fighting a battle inside his heart.”
“I know.”
“And you…” Siya said gently, squeezing her arm. “You’re fighting one too.”
Buhle closed her eyes.
Siya wasn’t wrong.
Because the truth was simple — painfully simple.
Ntsika had awakened something in her.
Something she didn’t ask for.
Something she didn’t expect.
Something she wasn’t ready for.
But now, it refused to go back to sleep.
And out in the parking lot, sitting alone in his car with his hands clenched around the steering wheel…
Ntsika whispered to himself:
“What is happening to me?”
- Writer
