Chapter Nine
797 Words
Nalishebo arrived just in time for dinner.
She washed her hands and joined her mother in setting the table. There was something different about her tonight. She kept smiling to herself without noticing, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Her mother watched her for a while before speaking.
“You seem happy today,” she said. “What’s going on?”
Nalishebo looked up quickly. “Me? No… I’m just fine.”
Her father glanced at her from across the table. “Just fine doesn’t usually come with that kind of smile.”
She let out a small laugh and lowered her gaze. “I don’t even know why I’m smiling. It’s just one of those days.”
Her mother didn’t respond immediately. She simply observed her, quietly.
After a moment, she asked again. “So what happened today?”
“Nothing special,” Nalishebo said. “Just work.”
Her father nodded slightly, though his expression didn’t change. “Work doesn’t usually leave people smiling like that.”
Nalishebo shifted in her seat. “It’s really nothing serious.”
Her mother leaned forward slightly. “You can talk to us, you know.”
“I am talking,” she said quickly. “There’s just nothing to talk about.”
Silence settled again at the table.
A few seconds passed before Nalishebo spoke again, almost too casually.
“I was just thinking about someone at work.”
Her mother looked up immediately. “Someone?”
“Yes… a friend.”
Her father frowned slightly. “What about this friend?”
Nalishebo hesitated.
“She likes someone,” she said carefully, “but she thinks her family won’t accept it.”
Her mother’s expression changed subtly. “Why wouldn’t they accept it?”
“Because of background differences,” Nalishebo said softly.
The room went quiet.
Her father placed his fork down.
“And what is she going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” Nalishebo admitted. “She’s confused.”
Her mother nodded slowly. “These things are not simple. Feelings alone are never enough.”
“I know,” Nalishebo said quietly.
Then her mother asked, more directly, “And you?”
Nalishebo looked up too quickly. “No.”
The answer came out faster than it should have.
Her mother noticed—but didn’t press further.
After a few minutes, Nalishebo pushed her chair back slightly. “I’m done eating. I’m a bit tired.”
Her mother nodded. “Alright. Go and rest.”
Her father added calmly, “Goodnight.”
She stood up and left the dining room.
In her bedroom, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. Only then did she exhale properly.
Her phone vibrated.
Tamara.
She answered in a low voice. “Hello.”
“Talk to me,” Tamara said immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” Nalishebo replied automatically.
A pause.
“That sounded like a lie,” Tamara said.
Nalishebo sat on her bed. “It’s just… a lot.”
“Work?” Tamara asked.
She hesitated.
Then quietly, “There’s someone.”
Tamara reacted instantly. “I knew it.”
“It’s not what you think,” Nalishebo said quickly.
“That’s exactly what I think,” Tamara replied. “Start talking.”
Before she could continue, her phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
She frowned.
“Hold on,” she said.
She opened the message.
I hope dinner wasn’t too serious. You looked deep in thought today.
She went still.
Slowly, she stood and walked to the window. Her fingers paused on the curtain before she pulled it aside.
Mark was there.
Standing near the fence, looking up at her window as if he had been there longer than he should.
Nalishebo froze.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
Mark lifted a hand slightly. “Just checking if you’re okay.”
“You can’t just come here like this,” she said softly.
“I know,” he replied.
A pause.
Then, quieter, “I just wanted to see you.”
That line wasn’t dramatic.
It was simple.
Too simple to ignore.
Nalishebo didn’t answer immediately.
“You should go home,” she finally said.
Mark nodded once. “Alright.”
But he didn’t move right away.
He stayed for a few seconds longer, then turned and walked away.
Nalishebo remained at the window until he disappeared into the dark.
“Hello? Are you still there?” Tamara’s voice came through the phone.
“Yes,” she said quietly, still looking outside.
But her attention was no longer on the call.
She closed the curtain slowly.
And for the first time, she couldn’t tell whether what she felt was excitement…
or the beginning of trouble.
- Writer
