DANGEROUS AFFAIR

The Rejection

CHAPTER 3

NARRATED

MANQOBA NCUKANA

Manqoba walked into his bedroom, tired from the day's events, and began to undress. He removed his tie, letting it sliver to the floor, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, revealing a hint of his chest. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind still reeling from his meeting with Buhle. Her face kept floating before his eyes, her confidence and intelligence shining through her words. He couldn't help but be impressed by her – how could one person be so gifted?

Just as he was lost in thought, Nomalanga walked into the room, a smile on her face. She was expecting a warm welcome, perhaps a little romance, but Manqoba's mind was elsewhere. She slid off her robe, letting it fall to the floor, and walked towards him, her intentions clear. She stood between his legs, leaned in, and tried to kiss him. But Manqoba wasn't having it. He ignored her kiss and stood up from the bed, his movement abrupt. Nomalanga was taken aback, but she tried to brush it off, chuckling lightly.

Nomalanga: What's going on, Nqoba?

She asked, her voice husky.

Nomalanga; We hardly make love nowadays.

Manqoba's expression was unyielding.

Manqoba; I'm not in the mood.

He said, his voice firm.

Manqoba; Plus, I'm not drunk.

The implication was clear: he wasn't going to be swayed by her charms, not tonight. Nomalanga's face changed instantly, her smile faltering.

Nomalanga; Wow, Manqoba.

She said, her voice lipped with sarcasm and hurt. Manqoba stared at her, his eyes warning her not to push the issue.

Manqoba; Don't 'wow' me, Nomalanga.

He said, his voice low and even.

Manqoba; I'm going to take a shower. I had a very long day.

With that, he turned his back on her, removed the rest of his clothes, and walked into the shower, leaving Nomalanga standing there, her feelings bruised. She clicked her tongue in frustration, a habit she had when she was annoyed, and shook her head. The sound of the shower running was the only noise in the room, a stark contrast to the tension that had just hung in the air.

The sound of the shower running was a welcome respite for Manqoba, a chance to wash away the stress of the day and clear his mind. He stood under the warm water, letting it beat down on his skin, and closed his eyes, Buhle's face still etched in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had just made a mistake, that he had offered Buhle a job she wasn't ready for, that he had let his personal feelings cloud his judgment.

But as he thought back to their meeting, he knew that wasn't true. Buhle had impressed him, genuinely impressed him, with her intelligence and her passion. She was going to do great things, and he was just the man to help her get there.

The water was starting to cool when Manqoba finally emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. Nomalanga was sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard, her eyes fixed on her phone. She looked up as he entered the room, her expression neutral, but Manqoba knew her well enough to see the anger and hurt lurking beneath the surface. He ignored her, walking over to the dresser to grab a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Nomalanga watched him, her eyes following him as he dressed, her silence speaking volumes.

Nomalanga broke the silence.

Nomalanga; Do you still want to be in this marriage, Manqoba?

Manqoba looked at her through the mirror, his expression guarded.

Manqoba; I have no choice, so yes.

Nomalanga chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound

Nomalanga; Let's just say you had a choice, what would be your answer?

Manqoba swallowed, his mind racing. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he wouldn't have married her in the first place. But he couldn't say that to her, not now, not when she was looking at him with that mixture of anger and vulnerability.

Manqoba; I think you already know the answer to that.

He said finally, his voice neutral. Nomalanga's smile was faint, but it was there, playing on her lips.

Nomalanga; What do you think my father will do if he finds out how you're treating me?

Manqoba's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and he turned to look at her.

Manqoba; Are you threatening me?

He asked, his voice low and even. Nomalanga shook her head, her smile still playing on her lips.

Nomalanga; I'm just asking a question.

Manqoba's eyes held hers for a moment, and then he turned back to finish getting dressed. He put on a pair of tracksuits and sneakers, his movements economical and precise.

Manqoba; I'm going out for a walk to clear my head.

He said, his voice flat.

Manqoba; Don't wait for me.

He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and headed downstairs. His mother, Kayise, was in the kitchen, and she looked up as he entered the room. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his outfit.

Kayise; Where are you going so late?

She asked, her voice concerned. Manqoba walked over to her, kissed her cheek.

Manqoba; I'm going out, Mom.

Kayise's eyes followed him as he grabbed his car keys and headed for the door. She felt a pang of sadness as she watched him leave. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him smile, really smile, without pretending. Something was eating away at him, and she wished she could help him, wished she could make it better. But some things were beyond even a mother's reach.

****

BUHLEBENDALO BHENGU

Buhle was frantic as she searched every corner of the apartment, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of her phone. She had been looking everywhere, but it seemed to have vanished into thin air. Lumko walked into the room, a curious expression on his face.

Lumko; What are you looking for?

Buhle let out a frustrated sigh.

Buhle; I can't find my phone. I can't even remember where I put it.

Lumko walked over to her, a helpful look on his face.

Lumko; When was the last time you saw it, and where were you?

Buhle thought for a moment, trying to recall the last time she had used her phone.

Buhle; I was with it at the office earlier.

She said, a hint of realization creeping into her voice. Lumko's face lit up with understanding.

Lumko; You probably left it there. Let me call it.

Lumko took out his phone from his pocket and dialed Buhle's number. The phone rang, but there was no answer. He hung up and shook his head.

Lumko; It's ringing, but no answer.

Buhle's face fell, but she was determined to get her phone back.

Buhle; I should go there and look for it.

Lumko; Let me ask my dad to drive you.

Buhle shook her head.

Buhle; No, he's probably tired. Let me use your phone and call for an Uber.

Lumko handed her his phone, and Buhle quickly dialed the number, requesting a pickup. The Uber arrived a few minutes later, and Buhle stepped in, giving the driver the address of the Ncukana company. The driver nodded and set off, weaving through the city traffic as Buhle sat back, her mind racing with thoughts of her phone.

As the car drove through the city streets, Buhle couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. She had a nagging sense that she was forgetting something, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand, getting her phone back.

The driver pulled up in front of the Ncukana company, a sleek glass building that towered over the surrounding structures. Buhle paid the driver and stepped out, her eyes scanning the entrance. She took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and walked in.

****

MANQOBA NCUKANA

Manqoba sat in his office, gazing out the window at the sea of cars and lights below. The darkness outside seemed to mirror the turmoil inside him, and he was lost in thought, his mind replaying the events that had led him to this point. He remembered the day his mother lay in the hospital bed, her life slipping away, and the desperate feeling of helplessness that had washed over him. A man had appeared, offering help, but Manqoba had been unaware of the steep price that came with it.

The memory still stung, and he could almost feel the weight of the chains that bound him. He had agreed to marry Nomalanga, trading his happiness and freedom for his mother's life. The door to his office opened, pulling him back to the present, and he turned to see Buhle standing in the doorway, looking uncertain.

They locked eyes, and for a moment, time stood still. Manqoba's heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of her, and he felt a pang of guilt for the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind.

Manqoba; Hey.

He said finally, breaking the silence.

Manqoba; What are you doing here so late?

Buhle's eyes fluttered, and she smiled awkwardly.

Buhle; I forgot my phone. I thought I should come and check it here. I'm sorry if I disturbed you.

Manqoba shook his head, pushing aside his thoughts.

Manqoba; No, let me help you look for it.

But Buhle's eyes had already landed on her phone, which was sitting on the couch.

Buhle; No need, I found it.

She said, walking over to retrieve it. Manqoba leaned against his desk, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her.

As Buhle turned to leave, her eyes met his, and she hesitated.

Buhle; I should get going.

She said, but her voice was lipped with concern. Manqoba nodded, but she didn't move.

Buhle; Sir, are you okay?

She asked, her voice soft. Manqoba forced a smile, but Buhle was having none of it.

Buhle; I can see when someone is lying to me, and you're lying to me right now, Mr. Ncukana.

She said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Manqoba chuckled, feeling a glimmer of surprise at her perceptiveness.

Manqoba; So you're not just smart, you're also a mind reader.

He said, trying to deflect. Buhle smiled, her eyes wrinkled at the corners.

Buhle; I'm not a mind reader, but you're an open book. You can talk to me if you want.

Manqoba's smile faltered, and he looked away, feeling a pang of longing. He sat down on the couch, and Buhle joined him, her presence comforting.

Manqoba; This place is the only place that makes me feel happy and free.

He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Manqoba; I wish I could just run away and never return.

Buhle's expression turned serious, and she leaned forward, her eyes locked on his.

Buhle; What do you mean?

She asked, her voice gentle. Manqoba hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal, but something about Buhle's kind eyes made him want to open up.

Manqoba; It's a lot. I wish I could tell you.

The room fell silent, and for a moment, they just sat there, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning. Then Buhle spoke, her voice breaking the silence.

Buhle; I was raised by a single mom. She did everything in her power to make sure my brother and I got everything we wanted, even though she couldn't give us everything, but she tried.

Manqoba listened, attentively as Buhle told him about her childhood, her eyes shining with a quiet strength.

Buhle; I don't know where my father is, I can't even remember his face.

She said, her voice steady.

Buhle; There was a time I cried, asking myself why he left. But I never got an answer to my question. But it was his choice to leave not mine. I hope you're leaving cause it's your choice. If it's not, change it.

As she spoke, Manqoba felt a weight lifting off his shoulders, and he realized that he wasn't alone in his struggles. Buhle's words were like a balm to his soul, soothing the wounds he had thought were too deep to heal.

When she finished speaking, Manqoba felt a sense of peace wash over him, and he looked at her with newfound respect.

Manqoba; What if you change that and lose everything?

He asked, voicing his deepest fear. Buhle stood up, her eyes shining with conviction.

Buhle; Sometimes you've to lose something to gain something in return. I hope you feel good soon.

Manqoba felt a surge of gratitude towards her, and he stood up, his eyes meeting hers.

Manqoba; Let me drive you home. It's late now.

Buhle nodded, and together, they walked out of the office, the darkness outside waiting to be faced, but for now, they had each other, and that was enough.

*****

KAYISE NCUKANA

The house was shrouded in darkness, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock in the lounge. Kayise sat in the dark, her eyes fixed on the door, waiting for her son to come home. She couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach, and she blamed herself for her son's unhappiness. If it wasn't for her sickness years ago, Manqoba wouldn't be trapped in a life that made him miserable.

As she sat there, lost in thought, tears began to well up in her eyes. She wiped them away, trying to compose herself, but it was no use. The door opened, and Manqoba walked in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on his mother. Kayise stood up, her eyes brimming with worry, and hurried over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

Manqoba's eyes widened in surprise.

Manqoba; Mom, are you okay? Why are you not sleeping?

Kayise's voice was muffled against his chest, but the concern was clear.

Kayise; I couldn't sleep without knowing where you were.

She said, her voice trembling.

Kayise; Where were you, Nqoba?

Manqoba gently disentangled himself from his mother's arms and led her back to the couch, where they both sat down.

Manqoba; I went to the office, Mom.

He said, trying to reassure her.

Manqoba; All I wanted was to get some fresh air, and I did. You can go to sleep now.

But Kayise wasn't having it. She sat down next to him, her eyes searching his face.

Kayise; It's my fault that you're not happy.

She said, her voice lipped with guilt.

Kayise; I should have...

Manqoba's expression softened, and he cut his mom off, his voice firm but gentle.

Manqoba; No, Mom, it's not your fault. I couldn't handle losing you, Mandisa and Melissa were young, they needed you. So I did what I had to do to make sure you live. Stop blaming yourself, okay.

Kayise's eyes welled up with tears, and Manqoba could see the weight of guilt she carried. He took her hands in his, his eyes locked on hers.

Kayise; I'm feeling much better now, Mom.

He said, trying to reassure her.

Manqoba; I talked to someone, and to be honest, I felt like there's some heavy weight that has been lifted off my shoulder.

Kayise's expression softened, and she looked at her son with a mix of love and sadness.

Manqoba; You'll be fine, Nqoba.

She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kayise; I know you will. I didn't named you Manqoba for no reason.

Manqoba smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

Manqoba; Go to sleep, Mom.

He said, his voice gentle.

Manqoba; I'll be fine.

Kayise nodded, stood up, and walked away, leaving Manqoba sitting alone in the dark. He sighed heavily, his mind replaying his conversation with Buhle. He couldn't help but smile as he thought about her words, her kindness, and her, and he felt a sense of hope that he hadn't felt in a long time. He sat there for a while, lost in thought, the darkness outside mirroring the turmoil inside him, but for now, he was at peace.

****

MANQOBA NCUKANA

Manqoba stepped out of his car, laptop bag in hand, and was immediately struck by the sight of Buhle standing beside it. She looked stunning in a white dress that hugged her curves, the V-line on her thigh adding a touch of sophistication. Her hair was tied up neatly, and her lips shone with a hint of lip gloss. Manqoba felt a flutter in his chest as he gazed at her, his eyes drinking in her beauty.

He quickly averted his gaze, trying to compose himself, and walked towards her with a casual smile.

Manqoba: Hey.

He said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Manqoba: I'm sure today you didn't forget your phone at home.

Buhle laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Buhle: I didn't. I made sure I put it in my bag. I was probably excited too much and forgot about it yesterday.

Manqoba smiled, feeling a sense of ease with her.

Manqoba: Let's go inside, shall we?.

He said, offering her his hand. Buhle took it, and they walked into the building, their hands entwined in a bridal style that seemed almost natural. As they walked in, the office fell silent, all eyes turning to them. Belinda, who had been typing away on her computer, looked up and felt a surge of unease. She had never seen Manqoba with a woman before, not like this. She stood up, her eyes narrowing, and walked towards them.

Manqoba, can we talk?

She asked, her voice a little too loud. Manqoba's expression changed, his eyes turning cold.

Manqoba; It's Mr. Ncukana to you.

He said, his voice firm.

Manqoba: What do you want us to talk about?

Belinda's eyes flicked to Buhle, and she seemed to remember herself.

Buhle: Excuse me.

Buhle said, sensing the tension, and quickly walked away.

Manqoba turned to follow her, but Belinda caught his arm.

Belinda: Manqoba, please.

She said her voice low and urgent.

Manqoba's eyes flashed with annoyance, and he pulled his arm free.

Manqoba: Not now, Belinda.

He said, and walked away. Belinda following close behind. As they walked in, Belinda closed the door behind her and suddenly launched herself at Manqoba, her lips seeking his. Her hand working on his belt fast like someone was chasing her. Manqoba was taken aback, but he quickly recovered, holding her at arm's length.

Manqoba: Wait.

He said, his voice firm.

Manqoba: What are you doing? This is a workplace, Belinda. Please, let's be professional.

Belinda chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound.

Belinda: So now you want us to be professional, Manqoba?

She asked, her eyes flashing with anger.

Belinda: Where was your professionalism when we had s*x countless times in this office?

Manqoba's expression was unyielding.

Manqoba Leave my office, Belinda.

He said, his voice cold.

Manqoba : I have a lot of work to do.

Belinda's eyes narrowed, and she sneered at him.

Belinda: You mean you want to spend time with that girl?

She asked, her voice lipped with venom. Manqoba raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed.

Manqoba: You mean Ndalo?

He asked, his voice firm.

Manqoba: She's a kid, and she's here to work, not to do what you're thinking, okay. Just leave my office.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and sat down, his eyes dismissing her. Belinda's face twisted with anger, and she turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Manqoba let out a sigh, feeling a sense of relief, and turned his attention to the work on his desk.