Chapter 2: The Pact
1098 Words
The next morning, the doorbell rang at 9 a.m., just as the sun broke over the tops of the high-rises in Braamfontein. Zara, wrapped in an oversized hoodie and nursing a hangover from crying, shuffled to the door and opened it to find Lulu and Candice standing there as the Spice Girls reincarnated—minus the coordinated outfits.
Lulu barged in first, tall and fierce, her box braids in a high bun, and lashes fluttering and lips the colour of rebellion. "Girl, we saw your story. We saw everything."
Candice followed, arms loaded with iced coffee and two boxes of croissants. Petite, caramel-skinned, and forever glamorous even at sunrise, she handed Zara a coffee." Breakfast first. Then the autopsy."
Zara took a long sip before sinking onto the couch. "It’s not even an autopsy. It’s a m******e. I was the only one who died."
Lulu flopped next to her, legs crossed. "Twelve girls, though? That’s a whole starting lineup. Thabiso was out here acting like he was casting a music video."
"And not even discreet!" Candice added. "Club bathrooms? Really? The only thing worse would be the back of an Uber."
They all burst into a peal of loud laughter that felt like a gasp of oxygen.
Zara’s smile faded quickly. "I gave him four years. I was going to marry him." Lulu leaned in. "No, babes. You were loyal. He was just… cheap wine in a champagne bottle." Silence settled over the room. Then Candice cleared her throat. "So, what now? Because you're not allowed to wallow. This is your villain's origin story."
Lulu snapped her fingers. "Actually! I had a thought last night. A plan." Zara raised a brow. "A plan?" Lulu stood, dramatic, arms stretched like a prophet. "We stop dating losers. Period. We start aiming up. Like, celebrity up. Athlete, DJ, actor, fashion mogul—whatever. We level up." Candice lit up. "Oh, I like where this is going." Zara chuckled through a sip. "You’re talking about bagging a famous man? As in, actually planning to catch a celebrity?"
"Why not?" Lulu said, pacing now. "We’re gorgeous, we’ve got charm, and with the right look. We’ll fit in like Birkin bags in Sandton Mall."
"It’s not about love anymore," Candice added. It’s a strategy. Survival of the finest. We’ve wasted too many years on guys who can’t spell loyalty. Let’s get something out of it."
“Not fittest?” asked Lulu. “Finest babe!” said Candice, and they all laughed.
Zara blinked at them both. This was ridiculous. Outlandish. Wildly unrealistic. And yet… It sparked something. A flicker.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Say we do this. What does it look like? We’re not influencers. We don’t exactly get invited to celeb yacht parties." Lulu grinned. "Yet. But that’s step one. We rebrand. From the inside out."
Candice pulled out her phone. "I’m already making a list. We need new i********: profiles. Clean, aesthetic, verified vibes. Professional photoshoots. High-end outfits. Locations with famous backdrops. We go where the famous go. We will go to the clubs, events, fashion shows, and golf courses if we have to," Lulu nodded. We rent designer clothes, bags, and jewellery. We will borrow, if we have to. Make friends with stylists. Blend in with the elite. Zara, you’ll be our muse. You’ve got the heartbreak story. You’re the phoenix."
Zara raised her hands. "Wait, wait. So I’m the face of this scheme now?"
Candice giggled. "Obviously. You’ve got the sad-eyes-meets-dangerous-glow thing happening. Men eat that up."
Zara groaned. "You guys are mad." Lulu beamed. "Brilliantly mad. Come on, tell me a part of you doesn’t want revenge. Not just on Thabiso, but on all the basic boys who thought we’d wait forever."
Zara paused. Then stood. She walked to the mirror and looked at herself.
Puffy eyes. Dull skin. Hoodie wrinkled. This was not who she was. Or who she wanted to be. She turned back around. "Let’s do it. But we need a name for it."
"Operation Celeb Bae," Candice said.
"The Glow-Up Trio," Lulu countered.
Zara smirked. "No. Let’s call it The Pact."
They looked at each other and nodded, the energy shifting. Something electric passed between them. A sisterhood built on shared heartbreak. And now, a shared mission.
Three days later, Zara stood in a rented designer dress outside the Louis Vuitton store in Sandton City, trying to look effortlessly bored. Lulu snapped a photo of her pose, while Candice adjusted the collar of her coat.
"This angle will get you reposted by those Insta travel pages," Lulu said, flicking through the shots. "Add a quote about healing and champagne." Zara rolled her eyes. "We’re doing this."
Candice grinned. "You said yes. No backing out now."
The plan was in full swing. They’d hired a freelance stylist, booked time with a hair guru in Rosebank, and scheduled their first appearance at a high-end rooftop bar frequented by influencers and C-list actors.
Each night, they went out looking like they belonged to a world they were still learning the rules of. Zara’s i********: follower count had jumped by 4,000 in just two days. Candice’s DM's were flooded with club promoters. Lulu had a mysterious photographer offering her a "collaboration."
Zara was still nursing heartbreak, but something about the plan gave her momentum. Purpose. They weren’t just chasing men. They were reclaiming control.
The trio arrived at Aurora Lounge on Saturday night, an exclusive celebrity hangout hidden in a rooftop corner of Sandton. They had to rent a bottle just to stay in the VIP section.
Lulu whispered as they walked in, "Okay, that’s Kabelo Mokoena. Rugby star. Seen on Top Billing. His weakness? Light-skinned girls who pretend to like sports. Zara, he’s yours."
Zara tried not to choke. "You want me to flirt with him?"
Candice nudged her forward. "Remember the Pact." As the music pounded and neon lights bounced off crystal glasses, Zara approached the bar where Kabelo stood, flanked by bodyguards and two male friends. "Nice shoes," she said, deadpan. He looked at her, surprised. Then he laughed. "I like yours more." She grinned. "I was hoping you’d say that." He offered her a drink. They talked. He was charming, cocky, and a little bit boring, but it worked. Zara didn’t feel sparks. But she felt seen. And that was enough.
Back at their booth, Lulu and Candice clinked glasses.
"To the Pact," Lulu toasted. "May our heartbreaks fund our glow-ups."
Zara smiled, her mind a mix of champagne and chaos.
This wasn’t love.
This was war.
- Writer
