After supper, Lunga went to take a shower, and while I was washing the dishes, a phone call from an unknown number came through.

“Silindile Mangethe, hello?” I said, answering the phone.

“Hey!” a voice on the other side of the line said, and I quickly recognised it, it was Siyabonga.

“Hey, Siya!” I said, happily.

“How did you know it was me?” Siyabonga asked, laughing.

“Your voice,” I responded, and I could imagine him smiling. We then spoke and laughed for a while, and he invited me to his house on Saturday for lunch. He said he would cook, and I knew I could not let this pass me by.

**********

Saturday came almost too soon, and Lunga had been good the whole week. I, on the other hand, was conflicted on what to wear, so I threw all my outfits on the bed while Lunga sat there, watching me.

“Why are you fussing so much? It’s just you and your girlfriends?” Lunga asked.

“I’m pregnant, Lunga, and I don’t want them to think I’m pregnant and pathetic,” I responded, lying to him.

Lunga laughed in response, and I remembered how I used to love the sound of his laughter. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you that,” he said.

I finally decided on what to wear, and it was a baby pink shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. I also wore high heels and let my weave hang over my shoulders.

“I’m so jealous right now,” Lunga said, joking as he kisses me. I kissed him back and, after a while, I walked out the door.

**********

Siyabonga had requested an Uber for me, and it dropped me off at his apartment. As I was walking in, I was welcomed by a clean home and the lovely aroma of a beef stew. He was wearing jeans and an apron, but he had no shirt on. He was making me drool as we stood in the kitchen while I watched him cook. It felt hot in there, but it was not just because of the cooking, it was also because of him. After a while, he caught me staring.

“Hey, don’t look at what you can’t touch,” Siyabonga said, laughing, and I suddenly became shy.

After cooking, Siyabonga served lunch, which was beef stew and dumpling, and it was very good. “So, I’m studying to be a chef, and it’s my last year,” he said, as if reading my mind. I nodded in response and congratulated him. “How old are you?” he asked.

“You don’t ask a lady her age. But, I’ll make an exception, I’m 31,” I said, laughing.

“I’m 33,” Siyabonga said.

I nodded in response, thinking how Lunga and I were the same age. Then, after eating, we both did the dishes.

***

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