My Muse

All good

The rooftop of Skyline District was where Pretoria’s weekend energy came to unwind. The air smelled like citrus and fresh mint from the bar, mixed with the faintest wisp of hookah smoke curling through the sunset breeze. A soft Amapiano set pulsed low beneath the clinking of glasses, laughter, and the occasional pop of someone’s camera flash.

Golden fairy lights ran overhead like stars trapped in string, and plush couches surrounded glass firepits. Neon signs glowed aesthetic affirmations on white brick—‘Your vibe attracts your tribe’, ‘Soft life only’.

Amahlé and Felicity stepped in, their silhouettes backlit by the last amber rays of dusk. Amahlé wore a denim mini dress and box braids styled into a heart-shaped ponytail. Felicity was giving effortless pretty girl: a baby pink mini dress, white sneakers, and her lace frontal tied back with a silk ribbon. Studded earrings caught the light as she turned, clear gloss shining on her lips—not to stand out, but because she always did.

A sharply dressed waiter in black stepped forward with a smooth, “Good evening, ladies. Table for two?”

Amahlé smiled. “Yes, please.”

They were led to a velvet booth by the edge of the rooftop. The city shimmered below like spilled diamonds. Felicity eased into the seat, already tugging her dress off finger by finger, her phone-less hand twitching for the screen that wasn’t there.

Amahlé stood up. “I’m going to the bar to get us cocktails. Something fruity and strong for my bestie, right?”

“Obviously,” Felicity said, then nodded. “Go.”

Left alone, Felicity exhaled slowly and let the music roll over her. Her mind drifted until—

A shadow appeared in front of her table.

It was him.

Major Keys.

But this time, no stage lights, no screaming fans—just a guy in cargo pants and a fitted long-sleeve tee, holding a small white box.

Felicity’s face dropped. “Oh God. Not you.” Felicity rolled her eyes

He raised both hands. “I deserve that. I swear I’m not here to start drama.”

She folded her arms. “Then what are you here for?”

He stepped forward and placed the box on the table gently. “I’m Kagiso, since you don't know who I am” he said, voice softer than before. “That night at the club, I was reckless. I bumped you, and your phone—”

“I remember,” she snapped.

“I figured,” he replied. “That’s why I got you this. Same model. I vividly remember you shouting it's an iphone 13 pro"

She blinked at the box. She wanted to scream, to shove it back at him. But instead she just said, flatly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

For the first time, she looked him in the eyes. They weren’t what she expected—no arrogance, no celebrity gleam. Just a guy who knew he messed up.

“I’m still mad,” she muttered.

“You’re allowed,” Kagiso said.

She lifted the lid of the box, saw the brand new phone, still wrapped in plastic. Her fingers hovered, then fell back into her lap. “...Thanks.”

He exhaled, tension dropping from his shoulders. “Listen... I’m chilling with a few people by the firepit. Would you and Amahlé wanna join us? Just vibes.”

Right then, Amahlé returned, two cocktails balanced in her hands. “Majorkeys ” she excitedly said. Giving it away that she planned this forgiveness encounter

Majokeys hugged her like they were close friends

Felicity shot her a side-eye but said nothing. She knew how much Amahlé had been hoping for this.

"Okay fine we can chill together " Felicity sighed after that

The group moved through the rooftop lounge, a soft summer breeze tugging gently at their clothes as they followed Major Keys toward the back, where a plush velvet booth curved along the corner. The low golden light spilled from hanging lanterns above, and the DJ—now spinning a soulful music —set the perfect backdrop for the mood: laidback, flirtatious, almost cinematic.

Felicity walked slightly behind Amahlé, her arms folded and eyes scanning the rest of the crowd. The glitter from her mini dress caught flashes of light every few seconds, drawing more attention than she was comfortable with. She tugged at the hem of her dress, smoothing it out of reflex.

As they reached the booth, a guy with warm brown eyes, fresh fade, and a mischievous grin leaned back and looked up at them, with a toothpick in his mouth, and he tapped the seat beside him.

“You must be iphone 13,” he teased, locking eyes with Felicity.

She arched an eyebrow, lips curling slightly. “Pro max.”

The whole table laughed. Amahlé was already sliding into the space beside Major Keys—giddy and trying not to show it. Felicity hesitated for just a second, then sank down beside the guy, adjusting her dress and smoothing it out. The guy leaned in.

“I’m Victor,” he said.

“Felicity.”

He nodded like he already knew her name, like maybe he’d been waiting for her. Their conversation picked up quickly—banter that bounced effortlessly between campus drama, music, and petty Twitter debates. They laughed like they’d met before. Musa’s jokes had just enough edge, and Felicity’s comebacks were sharp and sparkling.

From across the booth, Major Keys sipped his drink slowly, but his eyes weren’t on Amahlé anymore. His attention kept drifting back to Felicity and Victor —how close they were leaning, how her dimples showed every time she smiled at him, how she’d pull and smooth out her dress everytime Victor complimented it.

Amahlé nudged him gently. “You good?”

He blinked. “Yeah, yeah. Nah, I’m good.”

He turned back to her, trying to stay in the moment, but something tugged at him. He’d thought Felicity didn’t like people like him—loud, confident, always in the spotlight. But now she was glowing… just not for him.

She was warm with his friend. Comfortable. Smiling.

Something about that made his chest tight,

and maybe that bothered him more than it should.